I’m made of stones, but I’m not a wall, I cover the ground where footsteps fall. Old roads love me, piece by piece. What am I?

I have no feet, but I lead you on, Through woods or streets, I carry you along. Follow me and you’ll know where to go. What am I?

I am born from wet grains on a summer beach, Or raised in heavy stone beyond a dragon's reach. I have a keep, a drawbridge, and a crown of square-cut stone, Yet I can crumble to the waves or stand for centuries alone.

I am worn by shoes but feel no pain, I stretch through sunshine and through rain. You follow me to reach your goal, But I have no mind and no soul. What am I?

I'm big and strong. I was once wildly known as the ox that Europeans wished to be gone. Now I'm cattle, and when found in the wild, I'm no longer by the hundreds as humans know, disease is running wild.