Ah, the willow woods do keep secrets, don’t they? The path you’re talking about starts at the gnarled root that looks like a crooked drum and turns left every time a shadow falls across the moss—though I’ve a bit of a grudge against moss, you know. Legends say the third rock is where the wind writes runes in the bark, and the old brook says it’s the spot where the stag once left a paw print of silver. If you follow the left turns and keep your eyes peeled for that odd mushroom with a heart‑shaped cap, you’ll find it before the rain washes the trail away.