You decide you'll have better luck finding someone to help you in the town. You walk past the farmhouse to your left and up the hill. It's not very steep, but you've been walking for a long time and you hate cardio. As you get near the top you spot a weathered sign informing you that you've reached someplace called Quickbeam, population unknown- the numbers look like they wore away a long time ago. As you're inspecting the sign, a giant crow with greenish-black feathers suddenly drops out of the sky to land on the sign, cawing at you. You startle away from it and it gives a sound like a chuckle before launching itself back in the air and flying toward the town. You've definitely had enough of the outdoors.

The town itself is quaint. You're already on what looks to be the main street. There's a place called the Red Berry Inn to your right, and what looks like a small grocery store to your left. You walk down the street, noting a pharmacy that looks closed. There are some other shops lining the streets, with people inside, but you want to get your bearings before deciding whose most likely to take pity on you. This doesn't seem like the kind of place that appreciates random strangers wandering in with sob stories about blacking out the night before and losing their phone and wallet.

At the end of town you spot what seems to be the municipal building next to a grassy park. A huge tree sits in the middle of the park, with canopied branches leaving a shady circle around the trunk. A sign informs you that the site hosts the Quickbeam Farmer's Market from 8 am until 1 pm, every Sunday from May through September. You sit on a nearby bench to plan your next move, but then you spot a woman staring at you from inside the park as a toddler runs around in the grass. It definitely wouldn't help your cause if a local pegs you as a wierdo. You get up and walk back toward where you started. You're back at the beginning of town in 20 minutes.

You notice an Amish looking guy pulling a horse and buggy up to the side of the inn. The man hops off and ties the horse's reign to a post. Amish people love Jesus, right? Wouldn't he be, like, morally obligated to help you? Then again, of all the people you've seen he's the least likely to have a phone. The day is going to end sooner than later, you need to figure out what to do.