The kitchen was very dark, and odd shadows clung in every corner.

A shadow clung to the face of the tower, seventy feet below.

The Shadow was clinging to the wall like a mammoth bat.

The Shadow watched below, observing their direction, and clung unseen from above.

Even in the bright morning he felt shadows cling to him like black spider webs.

For The Shadow still clung, invisible, to the brick wall.

Rather than leave a trail, The Shadow would cling to the sealed box.

The Shadow, in his red-headed disguise, was no longer clinging to the rope.

And still shadows clung to the rocks, though I resolutely refused more than to glance at them.

Misty shadows still clung among the rocks down there.