It is close to the end of the path.

M'sieu Fingers has kept it there, waiting, ready." He had been thinking of Crossen's place and an open boat.

He blessed Fingers again, as he took Marette's hand in his own and started for the trail that led through the poplar thicket.
Their feet slopped deep in wet and mud, and with the rain there was a wind that took their breath away.

It was impossible to see a tree an arm's length away, and Kent hoped that the lightning would come frequently enough to guide him.

In the first flare of it he looked down the slope that led riverward.