T'Challa casts a glance at the White Wolf, the expression in his dark eyes thoughtful but not unkind, and then turns to stroke at his chin and consider the image.

"... No," he says after a moment. "Tell me."

Shuri makes another frustrated sound and blows up an innocuous spot on the sidewalk, just beneath Sharon's feet. "It's dark," she says. "But the angle of the sun is wrong for it to be her shadow. I think that spot of pavement is wet."

"So?" T'Challa presses, and she shakes her head, zooms in again on another spot.

"The rest of the street is dry," she tells them. "I'm almost sure of it."