"The stones were here," Leo said, landing beside them. "Near the stream. The snakelings said they were just lying on the ground, like someone had dropped them."
"Someone did drop them," Alex said. "I dropped them. When the shadow—"
He stopped. Looked at the spot Leo was indicating. The grass was flattened there, pressed down by something—or someone. A small depression in the soil, just about the size of a pouch. The indentations of seven small stones scattered in a rough circle.
He walked toward it. The grass crunched under his feet, dry and brittle, and Alex realized that the flattened area wasn't just where the stones had fallen. The grass was dead. The circle of pressed earth was a circle of withered, brown grass, as though something had sucked the life out of it.
"The shadow," Lucas said quietly, appearing at Alex's side. "It was here. It did this."
