Apollo approached the stream's edge slowly, crouching to examine it more closely. The water was indeed unnaturally clear, revealing every detail of the streambed with perfect clarity.
The stones beneath the surface were uniformly white, arranged in patterns that seemed almost deliberate. And the temperature, he held his hand just above the surface, feeling a chill that went beyond natural coolness.
"She's right," he said, rising to his feet. "Something's wrong with it."
"We need water," Cale insisted, moving to the stream's edge. "We can boil it if you're worried about disease."
"It's not disease I'm concerned about," Apollo replied, the gold in his veins reacting with increasing unease as he stared at the too-perfect water.
"Well, I'm drinking it," Nik declared, pulling free of Mira's grasp and dropping to his knees beside the stream. He cupped his hands, ready to scoop the liquid to his parched lips.
