Saxon - Avira
The winter air felt cold and uninviting. Even though Saxon was wrapped up in many layers, he could feel the chill in his bones. He wished he’d remembered to bring gloves, as his fingertips were already going a little bit numb, but his mind had been full of so much lately he had simply forgotten.
“A-Avira, are you sure this is the right place?” He asked nervously, eyeing the dilapidated gate. There was a sign on it, but he couldn’t make out what it read. “What if it said no trespassing?”
“It didn’t. You’ve been invited, remember the flier? Go on in,” A wavering spirit whispered behind him. Saxon didn’t know why he listened, but the creature had been whispering to him for so long – it was very convincing, so he obeyed.
He walked forward, his boots leaving imprints in the shallow snow. Behind him, Avira followed in a walking motion, but its paws left no trace. Cautiously, Saxon pushed the gate but it didn’t budge. He pulled his hand away from the iron and looked back at the spirit, who nodded as if to reassure him. He turned back to the gate, and with a little more effort, forced it open enough to get through.
[1 – The Front Gate]