AT:M 93

“Since your officers couldn’t be bothered to survive, you’re my work detail until further notice,” the lanky mowril bellowed. He looked at Tentin and Sirra and twitched an ear. “Maybe not you. Lost?”

Sirra grinned. “Not at all, just need to make it back to the car.”

The mowril looked back over the troops behind, some of whom were close enough to hear the exchange. “What, out on a joyride? In a war?”

Sirra nudged Tentin. “His brother is a racing driver. He sometimes goes a little far.”

He smiled, but it felt like she’d kicked him inside. He reflected she had no way of knowing how true those words sometimes were. The Maritharp troops thought it was funny, at least, and the laugh seemed to ease the moment.

“Fair enough, just stay outta the way,” the mowril grinned back, and turned. “For the rest of you – wood and stones! Collect and pile!”