scathrecraw, but some short, weathered trees as well.
The silt striders seem to come to the geothermal vents to die, I saw only a few without one or two husks crouched by the vent, whitened with age, sinking into the soft ground, covered with lichen, their hanging moss beards unshorn.
I continued north, not knowing where else to go - Sadrith Mora is reachable only by boat or by magick and I possess neither.
I have since found shelter for the night, although I am loath to use the term “shelter” to describe this situation: just after nightfall,
I crested a short ridge to find myself in a wide, grassy basin, a ruined fort standing nearby. The fort is home to a nord who lives in what must have been the main office. He told me reluctantly that I could camp here if I had to: I have found an intact foyer deeper in the ruin, both doors of which I have barricaded shut with scraps of old crates and furniture I found nearby. Should I get any sleep, I will consider myself lucky.
Tomorrow will be eventful - I am thoroughly lost.