The Door
Lendra stumbled down the path, gasping, hand pressed tight at her side, stemming the flow of blood. A distant shout spurred her on, sweat streaming down her face.
“It has to be around here somewhere!” she whimpered, sensing her pursuers close. “She promised I would find it when I needed it!”
Her toe caught on an exposed root in the path, sending her sprawling. Pain shot through her body, the wound the central point of her agony. With one hand, she pushed herself to her knees and looked up. Before her the door stood, a raven perched on top watching her with bright eyes. A faint silvery glow outlined the bird.
“Finally!” she muttered, climbing to her feet. The wood door was cracked and gray with age and weathering, the brass knob dull from countless hands grasping it. Four bloody hand-prints stood out, like someone tried to reach…
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