Mirelle
MirelleThe trip out to the quarry for ore is as tense as I could have expected. Kianna and Amber are terse, barely talking to me.
“You wait here,” Kianna tells me.
“She’s not supposed to ever be in a craft unattended,” Amber reminds her.
“Right. Follow me, then.” Kianna rolls her eyes. We step out of the craft into a field of blowing grass. The woods are miles away, the trees dark and twisted into a smudge on the horizon, foreboding. But the sun is bright and hot, the breeze brisk, and the stones of the quarry sparkle.
“This”—Amber points, as if she’d rather not tell me anything—“is our best place to gather the ore we need for the magnetic parts. It’s really just scattered on the surface and is easy to get.” She jogs over and puts on a pair of heavy gloves. She calls back, “Yo
