The rustle of leaves grows louder as you continue to trudge ahead, though the hedgerow is both calm and motionless. Lights flare up as the path is finally left behind, and you realize that you have walked into an open field.

Here, thick, shrubbery walls sprout out of the ground and several, large trees offer shade. You cannot help but notice that a fully-grown clabbert is swinging back and forth on the branches. Not far off, a big-eyed, brownish weasel seems to be chasing what seem like little sticks - and are revealed, upon closer inspection, to be bowtruckles.

It seems as if none of the creatures are aware of the three champions that have emerged into the field... yet.