Kitemaker's Lair

Something unwell owns this place. A cool, heady breeze always flows between the birch and maple, and golden sweetgrass never seems to fade to winter gray. Forever cloaked in the reds, browns, and golds of autumn, this expansive forest seems pleasant and sweet - during the day. At night, dead branches shiver as something horrible lurks through the fog...
An herbalist lives here, on the fringes, should you be looking for one, but beware the beasts and the revolutionists who slaver for vindication.