You ride north with the caravan, and soon you find yourself on what is not so much a path as a causeway through the mud, with water on either side. Ahead of you, an island rises out of the marsh, rocky and heavily forested. Above the trees, you can see a tall stone tower, atop which burns a beacon—the light which you saw before the slavers attacked you, the one you've been following for the past hour.
As the causeway reaches the island, it turns into a well-defined path of cobbled stone that passes underneath the trees before twisting out of sight. A small flock of sheep graze at the edge of the island, but they flee inland as they see you.