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“Oh, but which door is to the den?” she exclaimed. “I should not guess,” she said to herself “For a simple wrong decision could kill me in seconds.”
A quiet creak came from just outside the door she had come through. “The middle one, the brown one. Don’t let Madam fool you!” The whisper coming through the crack sounded too calm, too cocky. Should I even believe him? she thought. When she had seen him in the foyer, he had not looked like a person to trust.
However, her thoughts were cut short when Madam Canal pushed him aside and threw open the door. “You are not to find the den if you just stand there, girl.” A cold women trying sound warm, maybe. But it wasn’t working too well. “I do not wish for you to go to Mother yet, so you must believe me when I tell you which way to go.” She smiled coldly and stepped over to the door in the middle. “Not this one, dear.” she said, tapping on it lightly. “Have you even tried,” her smile faded, leaving her face still, and as cold as ever, “Calling for the others from the den to lead you to the correct door?”
”I have not tried Madam,” her voice came out so quiet, so small. “Suppose I did though, I think I still would not know which door to take.”
”And why is that, my dear?” her lips twitched. If they were threatening to smile, or possibly something else….our poor heroine would never know.
”You see, Madam,” she began. “I might call for them, and get replies from all three doors.” A look of confusion crossed the older woman’s face. “From one door may come the cries of the waiting, calling for me to help them, so many of them mix together, becoming a language I cannot decipher. So I might think they are calling for me to join them.” The older woman raised an eyebrow. Impressed or annoyed, another expression nobody could ever tell. “The second would be the real dwellings of the den, calling me to safety and to comfort. But now, you know, I wouldn’t know if the first or the second was telling the truth.” she took a deep breath, looking at the floor, afraid to look into the woman’s eyes. “The third, you see, could be Mother. Calling in a mimic of my dearest friends voice, beckoning me to join her, but really I would quite literally be walking into my grave.”
