Massey held the trammel. Gunnerson slid
the pin into place. Seemed implausible one tiny piece could make such a
difference. The machine roared back to life, steam pouring from her. We
stabilized, then lifted.
Miss Willa gazed at clouds, knowing
she’d get no thanks for recognizing the problem before we fell from the
sky. Folks don’t care for witches.
“Distortion’s coming.” She said it nonchalantly, but grabbed a handle.
Silver
creatures swam inside the energy wave, invisible to all but me and Miss
Willa. Untrained, I did what I could to help her deflect them, praying
she’d keep my secret.
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