She held up the old photograph in front of her.

‘This is definitely the place,’ Xavier said. He was right. The same trees on the crest of the hill. The wild grass meadow, the hedgerow dividing the fields. This was the right place. So where had the rocks gone?

They walked through the long grass, the wind blowing it in rippling waves across the plain.

‘There,’ pointed Xavier, running ahead and planting his feet in a hollow in the ground. ‘They were here.’

She went ahead and found the next hollow, and the next, like footprints made by a giant striding across the land.

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