"Walk the soil. Feel the breeze kiss your skin and taste the crisp spring waters. Hear the rustling grass of the plains and see your next victory on the horizon. That is what it means to be truly free."
— Soyka Tenkiller, Ghost Wolf tribeswoman
After navigating the tracks through the thick prairie pastures for almost an hour, they finally come across a road of sorts, not something that's been marked by the laying of gravel or aggregate perhaps, but definitely well-impressioned by frequent use. Tracks, bootprints and ruts clearly delineate the passing of sufficient vehicle and foot traffic, and the surrounding reeds and bushes have not grown over into the well-trodden soil of the roadway.
It doesn't take too long for some passersby to come along and point the way to the nearest spot of civilization, and the group learns that they are about ten miles or so out from Hajoth Hakados, where most of them last rememebered they had been, prior to waking up in the cultist lair. From there, it takes a couple more hours to reach a place where the road seems to follow to the left of a river that's at least a hundred feet wide.
The sky is already completely dark as the group nears the edge of town, where a grand, engraved stone wall protects the properties and residents within. To the left of the gates is a small grove and some outlying buildings, overlooking some plots of farmland. On the other side, a stone bridge stretches over the shores of the Sellen River, with more scattered buildings on the opposite bank.
This, is Hajoth Hakados, "The Velvet Caress of the North".