With clear skies and pleasant temperatures, and a gentle prevailing breeze
Moon: waning crescent, 3 days before the new moon
It is a spectacular, beautiful day. You tarry your way along between the trees, over little brooks with trickling water that sparkles in the sun, without the slightest hint of even the spring in the air. It is, in fact, the first truly, undeniable day of the summer that you have yet spent. There is the scent of flowers on the slopes, of pine, and everywhere small flies, bright in the daylight, flit back and forth. You shake off the terrors of yesterday, climbing and descending along the path, until at last you break through the trees and onto the slope above the village, about half a mile away.
There's no sign of the vardo. There's no sign at all of people in the town, for that matter, though things look perfectly well and untouched. There are goats and sheep cropping grass both in and out yards, there's laundry put out to dry, there's thin smoke emerging from some of the houses on the far side of the village, particularly from the big longhouse that can be seen, the chief house that stands diametrically opposite to where the vardo should be.
I don't think we've given a name to the village. Let's call it Yadine, pronounced as three syllables.