When Rosie calls out to the rest of the group, frowning, a flash of light passes through the door's carvings again. However, as she continues to speak-- to the door, moreover— the light wanes ever so slightly, still there, but stable, as if waiting.
No arrows pop out of anywhere. That's elsewhere on the island, Rosie.
no subject
No arrows pop out of anywhere. That's elsewhere on the island, Rosie.