Something deep within the camp draws your attention next: a tall structure of clay, with a wooden roof and doors. In defiance of the makeshift tents that surround it, it seems to have been here for years. "A temple to Cabryx," remarks the rider. "This will become the winter sanctuary, when her city comes this way again."
You and the nomad tether your horses near the temple and step inside. A circular dais sits at the center of the chamber, thick with dust. Where one would expect to find an altar, there is only a wooden statue of Cabryx. Her proud face is finely carved; the rest of her body is little more than an untouched log of timber.