The risen sun beat down on Cass's neck like a blacksmith's hammer, but she rode on, her eyes focused on the horizon where a plume of smoke stained the sky like an angry thumbprint. The ramshackle motorcycle coughed and sputtered beneath them, a rusty steed carrying them towards the edge of the city and possible escape.
Calyx, clinging to the motorcycle's back, held on tight, his gloved hands wrapped around Cass. His face, usually blank and untelling, was lit with amusement—he enjoyed this, his eyes darting across the towering buildings that loomed around them. This wasn't supposed to be a joyride, but as Calyx and Cass laughed shot through the breeze, it seemed like one.
They weaved through the choked streets, dodging mangy dogs or things that looked slightly similar and haggling traders, the smell of exhaust fumes clinging to the air. The city, a large spread of corrugated steel and reflections, seemed to take notice as they passed, a witness to their grand escape.
