As his soldiers crowded tentatively close behind him he tried the front door, only slightly unnerved by the strange shapes that seemed to be swirling within the stained glass that flanked the entry. It opened at his touch, and he stepped inside. Nothing happened, except that the dog ran past him to vanish into the depths of the house. He and his troops were not blasted from the face of the earth, or transmogrified into vermin. He sighed, not entirely with relief.
“Come on,” he ordered simply. “We might as well follow the dog.” Clutching their weapons tightly and keeping close together, wary men and women followed in a tight knot close behind their captain.
Slale was not surprised when the animal led him straight to the kitchen. He did start slightly when he felt something rubbing up against his leg. Glancing down, he was relieved to see that it was only a very muscular black cat of average size. She had white spots on her muzzle and feet, and did not appear to be in any immediate danger of starvation.
“Must be plenty of rats and mice in a forest house like this, kitty. I expect you’re better off than the dog.” Reaching down, he stroked her absently, and she purred forth a grateful response. “Dessevia, Koscka; see if you can find something for these unfortunate creatures to eat.” The two soldiers obediently began to poke through the multitude of cabinets, only too grateful for the duty. While the cupboards through which they were now searching might indeed contain food, they might also hold precious objects small enough for a sharp-eyed soldier to slip into a pocket.