Hoping it might scare away any four-legged creatures you'd prefer not to encounter, you stomp your way loudly to the center of the room. The old desks are nothing more than planks supported by heavy boards. You dismiss these as potential hiding places and turn your attention to the walls. A quick turn about the room confirms your belief that there are no false panels or any spaces deep enough to conceal a large bag of money. This leaves the floor. You bend down to study it closer. Although the rotting building shows considerable signs of general deterioration, the floor appears to be surprisingly solid. As you shine your flashlight about, you wonder if you are simply wasting your time and quite possibly risking serious injury the longer you stay here.
The crudely carved letters on a floorboard near the back wall are so faint, you almost miss them. You step closer, curious. "Find the hollow," you whisper to yourself. "D. B."
DB! Your grandfather's initials! Is this a clue? Find the hollow what? Or where? You can't stop yourself from groaning loudly. Couldn't your grandfather have been a little less cryptic? You suppose he hadn't had much time to leave a message, but still. How much help is this?
You pull Rebecca's letter from your pocket and attempt to orient yourself to her map. She hasn't labeled anything resembling a hollow, but there is a path that ends in a single question mark. If it continues to angle the way she's drawn it, that path would take you in deeper into the heart of the preserve. Could it lead to "the hollow"?