Many years ago, there was a mountain village here. The monks were mowing grass on the monastery roof. The wind was playing with the seeds, tossing them under the wrecked roofing and in some rainy years nettle, poppy seeds, and oat grew right through the roof. Now the village is deserted, some violent act of nature must have happened and people have abandoned these places. Now this is a secluded land, only stones remain here. The merchant stops his caravan in the meadow and looks around. Not a soul in sight. A little while later he finds an old woman who sits on her hunkers \by the fire where the kettle is boiling.