" Grover was sniffing the wind, looking nervous. He fished out his acorns and threw them into the sand, then played his pipes. They rearranged themselves in a pattern that made no sense to me, but Grover looked concerned. " That's us," he said. " Those five nuts right there." " Which one is me?" I asked. " The little deformed one," Zoe suggested. " Oh, shut up. "