Most of the doors were oak like the one she came out of, but with less ornate designs. Except the last one. It was actually a double door, and had a huge lock upon it. The lock was part of the door, but she noticed that the design was really old. There would be no passing a keycard under this, but it seemed even more primitve than that. It looked like a strong lock, but well over a century out of a date.
Auberta tested the lock, and found it was closed tight. A smile crossed her features, and she reached into her hair and pulled out the hairpin woven in, "Okay, let's do this."
Lockpicking was not a skill teenage girls were encouraged to learn. But her dad had shown her some of the basics. This lock? was meant for some skeleton key. She could work that, if the mechanism wasn't rusted that is. The metal in her hand clicked about, and she listened with an ear to the door.
Clatter Clatter click click.
And it was unlocked and the girl smiled, "Croft aint' got nothing on me."
Then she swung the door open, and heard another sound, a tension building like a coil winding. Then there was another click, and she heard the twang just as she noticed the large crossbow. The one pointed right at her, and launching a quarrel straight at her.
"Oh, CHRIST!" she called out, and fell to the floor flat on her face and lay there for a moment. Slowly, oh so slowly, she turned her face to look back into the hall behind her, and the door opposite this one. Embedded in that door was now a large bolt. It looked like it went at least two inches in.
"What kind of psycho attaches THAT to a door? What nutbar SAW Watching ASSHAT does that?" She yelled, and her vulgarity increased as she cursed for at least another minute. She went from asshat to far more extreme commentary that neither her dear late mother nor her darling still living dad would have approved of. In Auberta's defense, she had never nearly died before. This was a new experience. Her heart was pounding, her blood was racing, and her adrenile glands were working harder than they were used to.
So yes, she cursed a bit, and an understanding soul should forgive that, as if ever there is a good reason to curse, nearly being killed qualifies. Cursing can be a form of complaining, and Auberta liked complaining. It could be cleansing.