It was the Lost City of Lame, all right. But not a single cook fire or streaking prankster was in sight. The statue of the Guardian of lame, however, seemed to be moving. Nobody saw it move, of course, and yet, there is was, keeping pace with our progress. No tracks or footprints or impressions. Just movement. A feeling of dread began to gnaw at our wonderment.
It was the Lost City of Lame, all right. But not a single cook fire or streaking prankster was in sight. The statue of the Guardian of lame, however, seemed to be moving. Nobody saw it move, of course, and yet, there is was, keeping pace with our progress. No tracks or footprints or impressions. Just movement. A feeling of dread began to gnaw at our wonderment.