The morning had slipped away almost without notice. Luke had spent it wandering the broken plain of the hilltop, checking every hollow, every jagged crack in the stone that might have led him deeper. He had crouched, crawled, scraped his arms and knees raw more than once, only to find every hope cut short by a dead end or a passage so narrow even a child couldn't squeeze through. Some holes had looked wide enough at first glance, only to taper into nothing within a few feet. Others had looked promising but proved treacherous, requiring a drop or a climb that only rewarded him with a damp, empty cavity in the rock.
The sun was almost at its peak now. The air shimmered with heat, the stones themselves radiating warmth that seemed to press against his skin. Sweat gathered at his temples, his shirt clinging to his back. He had no shade, nowhere to hide from the noon blaze, and he knew if he didn't start back soon, the hill would cook him alive.
