The old dark wood floors creaked as footsteps hurried through the long long winding hallway.

Sloane sped along, her cumbersome brass key ring bounced and clanked with every stride. She held it to her hip, keeping it from flinging all around. The only thing lighting the almost pitch black was her nearly out candle, the flame flickered perilously, her speed walking nearly too swift for the little flame.

The hall was filled with endless doors and mirrors, all with brazen numerals inlaid.

Sloane glanced at the numbers. 1567, 1568, 1569. She spinned on her heels, turning down an especially dark hallway.

She continued her fast pace, never breaking into a run, for that was against the rules.

She stopped suddenly, at door 1589. Her keys jiggling as she swiftly grabbed one, placing it in the lock and opening the door in a smooth motion.

Warmth hit her as she walked in, as well as the smell of sick and bitter alcohol. Music cascaded through the large room, although not particularly good music.

The tavern door of the House was lively today, filled with drunken fools laughing and singing merrily.

Sloane finally stopped completely after the door closed behind her. She wore a disgruntled expression on her pale freckled face, her hands clutched her rings of keys in front of her.

A fox woman appeared from another door, a normal door. Her vixen face smiled, baring her fangs. Her grin more threatening then attended.

“Key Bearer.” She sneered, forcing the words through her toothed muzzle. She rustled in her layers and layers of skirt, finally pulling out a pouch of coin. Her black clawed fingers carefully dropping it in Sloane’s outstretched hand. “Months due.”

“It’s light.” Sloane said, bouncing the pouch in her hand.

“Slow,” The fox motioned around the bustling room. “Not many’s, with coin.”

Sloane arched a brow, and pocketed the small pouch. “Careful vixen, if you’re late again, I shall tell the old man.”

The fox wrung her hairy hands, still grinning widely, her ears now back passively.

“No more lates, promise.” She nodded eagerly.

“I shall hold you to that promise.” Sloane replied with a ghost of a smile. She turned and grabbed her keys once more, unlocking and opening the door in one motion.

The hallway swallowed the sound and warmth from the tavern, even the light died within a few feet of the old wooden floor and walls. The door slammed shut, and complete silence followed. Other then that of Sloane’s own heartbeat and slow breathing, nothing stirred. Nothing alive anyways.

With a hasty step, Sloane was off again, walking fast but never running. She ran through the checklist in her head, of all the doors she must visit, collecting rent. She wondered if anyone else didn’t have enough, or lord forbid, couldn’t pay. Her smile returned, she always enjoyed the climb up to go tell the old man of the House