The wind pulled at Roxy"s open coat in a vain attempt to draw him back to the container. Before Rachel could catch his eye, he put his head down, his hair whipping against his face as he walked towards the van. The transporter rattled into life and thundered past him. Roxy just kept moving: jaw tight, fists clenched, head fixed low. He got to the vacant driver"s seat and continued walking.
In the wing mirror, Rachel caught him watching the transporter fade from view. He shook his head and reached for the door. Rachel heard the back of the van being opened, and curiosity got the better of her patience. She hopped out of the van and shoved her hands in her pockets before the cold got to her fingers. This winter was going to be brutal.
She found Roxy in the back of the van, one foot braced
