A Rustle Against Timber

A sudden tremor stirred beneath my cowl. I froze, taking a long, deliberate pause to gauge the dim space before letting out a soft, theatrical gasp. I could move. Very slowly, testing each inch, I leaned sideways until the hem of my fabric lightly grazed the vertical grain of the wooden door frame. A dry, gentle scraping sound answered my touch. Satisfied with this quiet discovery, I settled back against the upright wood, vigilant and still.

1 Nauk