The dried grass inside crackled.
Last year's dead grass and bushes crackled as he pawed restlessly.
The grasses on the right crackled.
The dry grass behind them crackled into flames.
In a moment the grass was burning nicely, crackling and smoking, and ready for the chunks of dry branches that Floyd brought back.
The grass crackled as it froze, turning from green to silver.
Only a few paces away from him grass and low trees were crackling, blackening.
The grass crackled underfoot, dead, dry, and yellow.
The frozen grass of the riverbank crackled underfoot.
The grass did not crackle now as he went forward, spear ready, eyes that saw everything.
