.shylome p
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"Always something going on with this cursed place."
It never occurred to Shylome to knock. Doors never blocked her way into anything important back home, and the concept of a doorknob was lost on her when her paws could not form into humanoid digits. No, this was a four-footed creature, would always be a four-footed creature, and she used her mouth to manipulate the world. In this particular case, she had taken the doorknob in her heavy jaws and yanked backwards sharply. She understood that the house was hollow inside: this much she could tell from the windows, and the door looked like the weakest point in the whole thing.
It did not cooperate, since no twisting motion urged the doorknob to yield. All I want is shelter and to eat whatever that prey smell is coming from, she thought. Horses, were they called? It was a simple desire, and a reasonable one in the face of this very unexpected storm. The more the door resisted her intentions, the angrier she got.
At length, her temper got the best of her and she outright attacked the threshold, her jaws clenching with her species' impressive pressure down on the space where the knob met the wood.
It popped. Or splintered. Or something. A metal piece flew above her head and she tumbled backwards into a mud puddle.
Not that the mud really bothered her, but it did occlude her form quite a bit and made her look like some kind of oversized slime monster of darkness stepping slowly past the defeated door as the thunder boomed.