Uneven.
The cabin had existed before them.
Much before.
They had purchased the property the previous spring from a trader acting for an elderly owner in Virginia.
The building was said to be at least thirty years old.
Possibly older.
Samuel had repaired roof beams.
Chimney.
Door frame.
But not everything.
The pantry wall was original.
Clara looked toward it.
“What if it didn’t come through a door?”
Samuel followed her gaze.
“Meaning?”
“I don’t know.”
They moved everything off the shelves.
No holes.
No openings.
Samuel knocked against walls.
Solid.
Mostly.
Then one section behind the lower shelf sounded different.
Hollow.
Samuel knocked again.
Clara’s eyes met his.
“There.”
Samuel removed the shelf.
Behind it was ordinary timber paneling.
He pushed.
Nothing.
Clara ran her fingers along the boards.
One vertical seam looked too straight.
“Knife.”
Samuel handed her one.
She scraped carefully.
Old wax and grime flaked away.
A narrow iron edge appeared.
Samuel leaned close.
“Hinge.”
Clara’s pulse changed.
They cleared more.
Four hinges.
Hidden beneath paint and dirt.
A door.
Small.
Perhaps three feet high.
Clara stepped back.
“How did we never notice?”
“Furniture covered it.”
Samuel looked toward the latch.
None visible.
He pressed.
Nothing.
Clara crouched.
Her body made the position uncomfortable.
Samuel immediately offered one hand.
She ignored it until standing became difficult.
Then took it without embarrassment.
Growth.
He pulled her up.
“We’ll open it tomorrow.”
Clara looked offended.
“Tomorrow?”
“It’s midnight.”
“There is a door hidden behind my pantry.”
“Yes.”
“And something came through it.”
“Possibly.”
“You expect me to sleep?”
Samuel looked toward the bedroom.
“I can make you tired.”
Clara stared.
He smiled.
“Samuel.”
“Worth attempting.”
She tried not to smile.
Failed.
Then looked back toward the hidden door.
“No.”
“We open it.”
Samuel sighed.
“Of course we do.”
He fetched tools.
A small pry bar.
Hammer.
Lantern.
Clara brought the rifle.
Samuel glanced.
“Expecting aggressive vegetables?”
“Open the door.”
He worked the seam.
Wood groaned.
Something released.
Cold air immediately pushed into the pantry.
Not outdoor cold.
Earth cold.
Damp.
Deep.
The door opened inward.
Darkness.
A narrow stone passage angled downward.
Clara stared.
Samuel raised the lantern.
“Root cellar.”
“No one told us.”
“No.”
Three steps.