For some weird reason, the porridge contained something that could kill grass. Zephyr was sure it was not the heat from the warm porridge that did it.
If it were heat, it wouldn't have spread that far.
The patch of grass that died was larger and circular, as if something had spread along the ground.
Zephyr looked at the ground again. Then he used a stick to poke the decaying porridge. Immediately, a bunch of dead ants and worms came into his view.
"Poison!" Suddenly, he raised his head.
"It could be poison. Something potent enough to kill a bull, perhaps…"
"Was he trying to kill himself, or was someone trying to kill him?"
Zephyr remembered the blank stare Tom had given him. He looked a little similar to himself. At some point in life, both the current Zephyr and the original soul had worn the same expression.
"Only someone who feels as though they have no future wears an expression like that."
