He looked at the rock, turning it over and over in his hand. Little green flecks flashed in the lantern light—the Strange. It must be shot through these caverns, too. They weren’t breathing in its pulverized dust like those who worked in the mine, but the whole crater was rich with it. “Yeah,” Silas said. “I’ll give you the cylinder tomorrow.” “No. I want it now.” “There’s no point. You can’t leave until the morning anyway. It’s too cold, and them War Engines that followed you here are still out.” “What are they, anyway?” He considered for a moment, then chucked the rock to me. I caught it.
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