Avery nearly stumbles at the tug, the movement just enough to distract him from a glimpse of woven sun within the mirrors that are not, but not enough to keep the image from taking root within his mind.

They're leaving he assumes (he hopes), and it doesn't take long for Avery to match Ekkehardt's pace, the only thing keeping him from rushing ahead being his unfamiliarity with the decrepit old house.

"I can hit whatever's in here with my umbrella, right?" he asks, voice quavering just a little bit.

It's easier to deal with all of this if violence is on the table.