Parallel follows the tunnel and notices the slope upwards. There is a bit of natural light that bleeds into his dying torch from ahead. A wind howls faintly, and the crash of surf thuds like a distant heartbeat.
It isn't long before you all find yourselves on a rocky ledge above a small stretch of shoreline, overlooking the sea. Judging from the position of the sun, it is perhaps close to mid-morning. The location of the mountain orients you somewhere west of the village (which lies on the southern coast), and far in the opposite direction of the farmhouse you originally investigated.
You also spy the canvas sails and amber hull of the Red Cutter, a fair distance from shore, but close enough to notice frenzied activity on deck. Sailors seem to scramble about, some rushing below deck while others strain their eyes against the sun while looking up into the sky and pointing. They are not pointing at you.