The school house looms up from the mist, which over the past half hour to an hour has seemed to have become much thicker, almost sticky even. Cut through, along the pathway it is almost as if someone had ‘parted the red sea’ and not a single trace of mist is left on the path.
Down the path the school stands, the doors to the hall open, and the faint glimmering of light from within the main hall. From within the mists the sounds of a creaking swing echos along the empty streets.
[Wits + Composure - 2] please.
Your unseen senses are buzzing, and it is about 1 in the morning.