Once a large lake, it has dried to the point it is but a ring of muddy water around the island that is the RockClan camp. A lone, weathered half-bridge stands to one side, leading to nowhere and nothing.

Along what was once the lake is a series of high, rocky cliffs. The cliffs are hued a pallid grey and are exceedingly hard to navigate but for the most skilled climbers. Certain rare herbs can be found, in plain sight along the cliff walls, or hidden in obscure crevices, but obtaining them is no mean feat. Falling means almost certain death, courtesy of the sharp rocks below.

Rimming the territory is a beach. The expanse of sand is pale and soft, formed from ground up seashells.