Shingle Beach

The trees part to reveal a narrow beach of grey stones, worn smooth and round by the endless lapping of the lake. The water is clear in the shallows and darkens quickly to an inky black further out, and on still days the reflection of the forest is so perfect it's hard to tell which way is up. Driftwood lies bleached and twisted along the tideline, and the remains of an old campfire sit in a ring of blackened stones.

The shore curves away in both directions, hemmed in by the forest. A path climbs back into the trees toward the hollow, and a little way along the beach, a weathered boathouse sits half on land and half on the water.