[There are a fair few of them. The stones jut out of the snow and ice like thorns on a rose. There is oddly nothing unnatural about their positioning. But that faint sense of wrong persists.

Shirou steps into the camp and turns around to face the last one. The camp is far enough away from the last patch to make his shoulders relax slightly.]

There’s a number of them but only in small patches and they’re spaced well apart. You’re right, I’ll ask the god of time about them.