There was a door up ahead, inset into the first real wall he had seen. It was made of some sort of wood with a large iron knocker. Two red lights shone, sitting in a cavity on each side of the door.

“Oh good, he’s home.” She said, digging into the satchel at her side. She pulled out a slender key and gently pressed it into the lock.

The door opened silently after the key was inserted.

He followed her into the room, surprised to see it was a kitchen. Wooden counters were littered with a mismatch of plates, bowls and cutlery that overflowed from the sink. The cabinets were dishevelled, half the doors all broken off or clinging on by a single hinge.

The floor wasn’t any better, covered with broken wood and smashed pottery. The girl was confident as she stepped through the mess, not needing to look to find the few clear areas to place her feet. He carefully followed her lead, untrusting on the piles of rubbish.

She led him into a hallway, also overcluttered and messy. It wasn’t hard to imagine the rest of the building was like this, he could barely see into the rooms they passed but they seemed to match the mess.

“He’ll be in the workshop, he rarely leaves it, you see.” She said, pointing to the single closed door.