And of course, no hint of Aldo.
The functional Minotaurs reached for us. Most could do no more than that, their broken or unfinished legs dependent and confined to their wall alcoves.
Six with almost the capacities of the sentinel at the door creaked and lurched out of their ground level spots with hisses of steam to face us.
The Slivers had barely a foothold here by Splinter standards, and even that might well be enough to crush us like so many roaches underfoot if we weren’t careful.
And what they were preparing for, in this space quite possibly bigger than the Splinter Warehouse…
Big enough to swallow the world, I thought wildly.
One of the six fully functional Minotaurs took a pounding step, and with a shove I righted myself to do the same.
Sword in hand, my fragile, determined
