The Wrong Target

Beatrix's P.O.V.

We moved carefully up to the front door. The latch was still broken, presumably from when Bastian had destroyed it during our visit over a week ago. But the way the heavy barrier of wood hung from only one loose hinge had the bottom corner on the floor and the top leaning toward us like it could fall at the slightest gust of wind.

Bastian moved in first, pulling the door right o