[8: A how to do something]

The little house sat not far down the hillside, just out of sight of the
village, seated in a little barren spot where the stone came to the surface
of the earth, leaving nothing for the moor grasses to cling to. It was old,
that much she could tell, but there were no telltale signs of an era, no
Victorian brass and gaudy shapes, no Edwardian era square set. The roof was
a well-kept thatch, held in place by a modern piece of plastic netting.

"Go in already! I'll be right behind you!" Dick called out, trying to herd a
recalcitrant doe through a gate with his foot while not letting the rest of
the flock out.

Meera ducked under the edge of the thatched roof, and into the deep doorway.
Dick was behind her in a moment and he reached for the latch, a modern
lock across a latch that looked entirely ancient, at once simpler than
anything modern, but more complex to open than a simple twist of a key.

"How do I?" Meera trailed off as Dick gave the lock a practiced yank, left,
then up, then down just so. 

"I guess there's a bit of a trick to it, you see." The door swung open, and
Dick had to duck the door frame, and nearly got caught in the thatch. The
door couldn't be more than five and a half feet tall, and Dick easily
crossed six feet. He looked like a giant in the doorway, and Meera felt
herself duck, though she had no need to. 

The house was modest, just two main rooms and a door for a washroom and
lavatory. Something about it seemed more like home than the entire house
that she lived in.