Finlay stood in front of him like a stone statue. The golden apple glittered evilly in his hands. A great wave of sickness welled up inside Max. Finlay couldn’t be stone! He walked unsteadily towards the statue of Finlay. ‘Fin,’ he whispered helplessly. He felt dizzy with shock. What was he going to do? What were Finlay’s mum and dad going to say? He looked into Finlay’s grey face. With a gasp he jumped back. Finlay’s eyes were still normal! ‘What-what…’ he stammered as Finlay looked at him frantically, his eyes darting from side to side. ‘You’re not dead!’ Max exclaimed, relief hitting him like a sledgehammer. Finlay couldn’t say anything – he couldn’t speak or move. Max’s thoughts whirled. He touched Finlay’s arm but it was as cold and hard as a stone pillar. Finlay might not be dead but he really had turned to stone! What am I going to do? Max thought. Help! A savage snarl rang out. Max’s gaze flew to the grassy square. The dog was lifting its heads from the floor.
