Pendall’s Crossing in July carried a sleepy sort of hush, the kind that lingered once the parades and sparklers were gone. Strips of red, white and blue bunting still sagged from the porches of the general store and post office, their edges curled by sun and rain. Life seemed ordinary, small and dependable but there was also a restlessness. Folks spoke in lowered tones about the power outage that had rolled through the county last week, about strange movements at night along the timberline. A town that lived on routine was beginning to sense that something had shifted, that something was coming that would change everything.