At any rate, it'll make the rest of the walk easier.
You turn to look at the gates again. They're closed and don't open when you give them a firm push, nor offer any give when you try to pull them open.
You take a step back and look at the gates, thinking through your next move. You could climb over them, but it would take nerves of steel to swing a leg over spikes that sharp.
The best thing to do, you suppose, would be to face this problem in the same way you would face any other.
The gates aren't visibly locked, but they're still very resistant to your attempts to tug them open.
It's not until you brace your leg against one of the gates and give the other one a hard yank that, with reluctance, they part far enough for you to slip through and into the school grounds.
With the gates at your back, you look around. It might be your imagination, or the thick canopy of trees you've stepped under, but it suddenly seems darker and colder.
You shake off the thought. It's probably just your nerves getting the better of you, and being late for your appointment is unlikely to make a good first impression.
You take a step forward, and then another, and another. One step at a time, you head on towards your new home.
After a few minutes of walking, the darkness and the cold are even more noticeable. They don't feel quite natural; even under the shade of trees and with the sun setting, it shouldn't feel this gloomy.
It could be all in your head, or it might be all too real—an eldritch manipulation of your surroundings. You don't have any way of knowing.
You shiver, feeling the chill shoot through you again. Wondering about the cause of it isn't going to make you any warmer.
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