The gates were wedged open, looking as though they had not been shut in many years.
The gravel crunched underfoot, and still the rain beat down. Drumming in to his skull with the precision of a metronome.
He looked toward what appeared to be the main entrance of the castle. In various windows on the castle front the welcoming flicker of firelight shone out, like a beacon in the night.
Reaching the porch, Bray leapt up the stairs two at a time, and breathed a sigh of relief as he reached the top, and the relative protection of the roof.
As he wrung his sodden clothes, he heard the far off cry of a wolf. In quick response an answer was called, this time somewhat closer. Bray shuddered and stepped forward, facing the huge oak doors.
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