In a damp, dark forest, encircled by a wide area of thick trees, sits a little house that is not so little on the inside. It is dark brown with even darker brown roofing. The windows are always somehow warped or crooked, and the shutters fail to close the whole way. There is a yellowed sign that sits very precariously on top of the porch roof. It reads in bold, musty, golden cursive letters, “Magpie Inn - Bed and Dinner”.