The Children of the Stars are not in the habit of naming places. Names are for people who want them, and though the Children can hear the voices of trees and rocks and earth, no place has ever told them that it wanted a name. So the forest is the forest, or the forest is home. It is thick trees spread across northern Besh, between the mountains and the rest of the continent. Even when the leaves are sparse in winter, it is difficult to see your way through the branches and trunks, which have been free to grow forever, creating a canopy like a ceiling that lets through thin patterns of sunlight. The air is full of birdsong, the chatter of squirrels, and the low snuffling of owlbears. You’ll find creeks full of fish and caves that ogres call their home. Deep in the forest, there’s a place where the trees and shrubs stand even thicker, close enough together to be a wall of foliage. It will open if a Child of the Stars asks it to. Kept safely inside are the little houses of Shiri’s village, simple and natural structures oriented around a fire pit that glows with white starlight.