AT:M 97

“You don’t want to go in the back, it’s all pointy bits and jagged edges,” the driver said, and indicated the empty cab. “We’ll all fit.”

Tentin went in first and helped Sirra up. The mowril settled into a well-worn seat and summoned the hotstones to heat magicoil to movement deep in the thing’s motor with a tug on a knob and a press of a pedal. The heavy, multi-axle truck ground down the lane with a rattle the driver clearly didn’t like.

“Skelthan garbage, all of it. We took the truck, too.” He slapped the lever to engage a gear. “And this thing is full of ammunition I’ve never seen and don’t understand.”

Sirra and Tentin looked at each other, considered being worried, and looked back ahead through the windshield. In time, they fell asleep, while the driver laughed softly to himself, wishing he could do the same.