The Cottage
Immediately to the left was some sort of sitting room or parlor, and there was indeed a fire crackling and popping in a well-appointed fireplace. The hearth looked to be made from river rocks all laid nicely together. In fact - here she glanced at the floor, as though to confirm what her feet were telling her through too-thin shoes - the floor seemed to be entirely made of such stone. It was expertly done, as she could see no mortar that fitted one stone to another, but the appearance was overall a bit strange (it was nice on the toes, though).
The front room had several overstuffed chairs and one long, low couch in addition to a few large animal pelts placed on the floor. For a house that seemed so rough from the outside, however, Karen could not make sense of the room nor the furniture. The former was fine quality, nicer than at home by a great deal, and the latter appeared recently swept and mopped (try not to dwell on the thought that you are by far the dirtiest thing in this room). Giving in to curiosity, and having heard no response to her hail, she stepped further towards the fireplace and gingerly placed first one foot, then the other, down on a soft pelt (deer, perhaps?) that was spread out in front of the couch. A slight smile turned up the corners of her mouth as she simply took a moment to enjoy the fire's heat and the smell (rabbit stew?!) that even now was turning her head.
"Hello? Is anyone here?"
The call was a bit louder this time as she moved away from the fire, body already missing the warmth, and began to follow her nose towards that smell (it must be rabbit stew, and bread?). She rounded the corner and found a large kitchen with another river rock fireplace, though this one was bigger and had several hooks hanging for pots and kettles. One of them, her nose told her, has stew. Sure of it. And so, looking around to be doubly and triply sure she wasn't being watched, Karen tucked her hair back away from her face and began to investigate, using a nearby fireplace poker to assist. The kettle - warm water. The pot beside it - empty. The pot beside that, though...ahh, the sweetest scent of rabbit and leeks. There were other notes as well, some she couldn't place, but as she stood and inhaled her mind wandered, (the pot was nearly full and surely whoever had made it wouldn't begrudge her just a bit?) and before she had even really considered how someone might react to finding her eating their dinner, well, she'd already dished herself up a bowl. And the bread, cooling on the counter (she must have missed them by seconds, it was piping hot), she hadn't taken that much. More to avoid the need to dirty a spoon, really.
Part of her was still rationalizing while she pulled up a chair at the small cook's table and began eating her first hot meal in days, but that small guilty voice was quieted by the simple joy of the stew's flavors (leeks and garlic and, hmm, thyme maybe?) and the fact that she had somehow managed to find the one place in the woods that The Beast could not reach her. From here she could make better plans, having encountered the creature in brighter light and witnessed his speed and strength (no, don't dwell on that, don't don't dwell on that). Almost unconsciously she reached for the pistol, wondering about how much powder and shot she'd brought. Lord willing it would be enough.
The last bit of bread scraped the bottom of the bowl, catching up broth and a shred of rabbit, and she sagged a bit against the table. Taking a moment to sigh contentedly, she then began to cast about for a bucket or similar to use for washing up the dish. Over by the fireplace she noticed a simple pail, and setting the pistol down on the table (mustn't get the powder wet) she headed over to clean up. The pail was blessedly full (what to do for water after this is gone? there must be a well), but what truly caught her attention was a strange stone pillar tucked further back against the wall. Odd, she thought, and decided to investigate. The pillar was not just a pillar, though - it was, she saw as she drew closer, actually some sort of basin. The whole thing must have been carved from one giant piece of stone, some sort of slate it looked like, and as she peered over the rim she saw that there was a perfect hole right in the basin's middle. It must run...all the way down the pillar? Growing increasingly bewildered Karen tipped herself over the edge to peer directly into the opening (which of course was totally dark, I mean what did you think you would see down there?), which left her not much enlightened but slightly frustrated. So intent was she on figuring out the basin's purpose and workings, that it took her a few seconds to realize she had heard the distinct noise of a door opening and shutting somewhere further into the cottage.
Quickly, quietly, she abandoned the bowl and retrieved her father's pistol from the table. Breathe, slow, in and out. Breathe.
"Hello? Who's here?"
Even as she called out, Karen raised the pistol to waist-height and let her thumb linger on the hammer. She could hear, she thought, footsteps - though it did not seem that they were coming any closer, rather shuffling about in some more-distant room. Keeping the pistol low she moved from the room (goodbye mystery basin, i'll figure you out eventually) and towards the sound.