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grass  started again. It was  dead,  prickly,  dry, but  it  was real and it
little longer, then got up,  went down to the kitchen, and greedily drank  a

     The boy could  have made a stalker,  after  all, thought  Redrick. They
that the dry grass was not rustling underfoot but squeaking like cornstarch,
out  would ooh and  aah  for five minutes  and then go  back  to  their  own

His dark raven hair,  like his sister's, bounced rhythmically.  He asked for
     "Yes," Redrick said. "But not here. In  the mountains in the northwest.
absolutely useless to rely on himself. And now this hope--no longer a  hope,
wet, hungry, crazy, with a  sack over my shoulder, I burst into  the bar and

stick--a minesweeper. In those days many stalkers used mine sweepers, buying
chewing.  "When  the fog lifts, you'll see that we're  surrounded by nothing