Trees. That's what you see to the east, endless trees decorated with vines and accented with ferns. There is no trail made by man or beast to make the going easier but the feeling in your gut says to head to the rising sun (not that you can see it, there are trees in the way).

You make your way through the undergrowth at a snail's paste, breaking vines with your feet and bending branches with scratched dirty hands, until there the forest suddenly breaks and you encounter a low stone wall. It's about waist height and not much of a deterrent should you wish to continue east. Beyond is a grassy field where sheep lazily graze around a stone hut. Smoke trails from the chimney and the smell of cooking food drifts your way. Your stomach grumbles, reminding you of a skipped breakfast and a hard morning's walk through the forest. There's a chance the residents may be welcoming of random visitors to their isolated home and share a bite to eat.

What do you do?

I'm going to politely knock on doors. Even If I don't get dinner I may get information about where I've ended up.

People don't live in isolated locations to get uninvited guests; however I can make good time across the clear field.