Luneshale Pass which door do we open?

After traveling nonstop for nearly two weeks, Talisman found a shaded spot in a particularly eldritch forest and collapsed. He fell asleep before his head even came to rest properly on the leaf litter.

When the young coyote woke, he couldn’t be sure if it was dawn, dusk or sometime in between. Talis sat up, freshly fallen leaves tumbling from his pale back. He blinked, groggy, and shifted onto his feet. There was a great deal of crunching as he stepped out of his makeshift bed and dipped into a luxurious stretch.

After a vast yawn, he straightened and began to walk in the direction he happened to be facing. Talis ignored the ache in his paws until he came across a trickling stream just beyond a remarkably lush meadow. The scents of blossoms still lingered in his nose as the earth dried out approaching the banks of the feeble river.

He waded straight into the shallows, sighing as the water engulfed his cinnamon paws. Talis dipped down to lap at the water, which tasted like minerals. His bister tail switched and his pale blue eyes roved over the rippling surface until he raised his head and they suddenly clapped upon a figure seated in the middle distance across the diminishing stream.