Cavern Mouth

The meadow grasses give way to coarse sand a you step into the mouth of the cave. Like the maw of a sleeping turtle the roof is at least three times your height and, in the bright sunlight that slants into the cave, lighting it, you can see the stone roof is made up of ribbon like layers of rock in caramel hues, schools of tiny, pale skeletal fish are visible, fossilised in the walls.
As you focus ahead you notice feline pug marks on the sand, a variety of sizes, from huge Rakshasa like foot prints to tiny kitten patter marks and they all head in the same direction, leading in, and out, one of the four doors at the far end of the cave.
The door the track leads to is partially ajar and, like the others, is a dark burnished wood with a darker square, as if it recently had some sign on it.
Moving closer to the back of the cave you can now make that each of the other doors have brass plaques on them:

The first has a slight draft blowing beneath it with a mixture of art materials, geraniums and the ocean wind, it's brass handle is a little tarnished and has a few brightly hued finger prints of irridescent paint on the frame.

The right most door has a book engraved on its brass plate. From beyond you can make out the papery sound of pages turning and smells deliciously like a second hand bookshop.

Beside it, on the left the plaque holds the image of a stylized bird. Listening near the door jamb you can hear, echoing as though down a tunnel, you can faintly here chirrups and the sound of wings being rustled

The last door has a cat on the plaque, the scent of musk and fur wafts from down the dark corridor. Not quite the rank scent of wild cats but spicy and with more than a taste of myth to it.

None appear to be locked, especially not the cat marked one, the door of which swings open a little further even as you watch. Which way will you go? It's still not to late to go back out into the meadows.