The heat radiating off the freight engine's twin fireboxes did not warm the air inside the cab; it merely fought against the freezing gale whipping down the valley, creating a sharp, bitter draft that smelled of wet coal, scorching iron-grease, and stale river mud.
The heavy, rhythmic clack-clack-clack of the steel wheels over the cold rail joints vibrated straight through the soles of Elara's boots. She stood pressed against the iron side-rail of the cab, her grey eyes narrowed as she watched the black smoke of the burning Reef Exchange vanish behind the pine-covered ridges of the valley mouth.
Her charcoal wool coat was stiffened by drying salt-crust, white geometric lines of dried brine catching the pale morning sun. Her blistered palms, wrapped in dirt-stained linen, throbbed with a dull, continuous ache, but her posture remained anchored in that quiet, mathematical flatline that kept her calculations sharp.
