The Rose Gate

“There you go, Àlainn,” said a low, gentle voice. I opened my eyes. A big beast of a man hovered over me with a brown, bushy beard, and twigs stuck his long hair.
I shrank back from his touch and glanced wildly around me. Stone walls and gilded furniture were lit by sunshine pouring through the velvet-draped window.
The man reached toward my bandaged arm, and I jumped.
“You see, my lord,” said a raccoon, popping its head up beside the bed. “I told you to shave. You look terrifying.”
I blinked at the raccoon. Nope, this was not okay.
I kicked off the light blanket covering my legs and tumbled to the floor.
“No, you don’t understand!” The man reached for me, but I scrambled away from him and got to my feet.
“Where did you bring me?”
I didn’t wait for an answer. I bolted for the door and swung myself out into the hallway. The massive stairway to my left seemed promising, so I ran to it, my bare feet sinking into the thick rug that ran down the middle of the stone floor. The one-eyed man looked about a foot and a half taller than me. He’d catch up to me quickly.
But I had terror on my side, and stone stairs were much easier to navigate than a slippery path in the dark. My twisted ankle seemed completely healed. How long had I been asleep?
I stumbled into a foyer and got a brief impression of gilded mirrors and glass lanterns before I pulled open the heavy oak doors. I paused and sneezed in the bright sunshine.
“Wait!” The man sounded close behind me.
Too close.
Nope, not waiting. I yelped as my bare feet hit the gravel path at the bottom of the stairs. A high stone wall surrounded the garden, but at the end of the path, a stone arch covered in roses formed a perfectly circular gate. I could vaguely make out a dirt trail on the other side. It must be the way out.
“It’s not safe!”
I glanced back and almost tripped at the sight of the grand stone castle behind me. How far from home was I? I dashed through the rose gate toward freedom.
And plunged into darkness.