To the north are the graveyard's gates, swinging idly in the breeze.

The strange patterns worked into the iron lattice-work of the gates

do nothing to ease your discomfort, and the creaking and groaning of

the hinges sets your hair on end. Past the gates you can barely make

out the bridge crossing the Silver river, which ends in the graveyard.

River street continues to the east and west, and Bridge street goes

off to the south.