(Amaia)
How he says that with a straight face annoys me even more.
I scowl at him but he appears so unfazed.
Alnitak's arm comes around my shoulder as he pulls me into himself.
"Come, let's go."
Saiph straightens himself and takes the bags from Alnitak.
"Stay behind me," he instructs in his crisp voice that reminds me of cool, wintery winds.
We leave the bazaar and arrive in the parking area where we have parked our bikes.
Mounting them again, Alnitak adjusts my helmet. My eyes wander around the parking lot, and I spot what appears to be a heavy bike. It's not merely a bike, but appears like a beast assembled from the past and present worlds.
The frame is like a skeleton, a mismatched fusion of a pre-war heavy-gauge steel from an industrial farm tractor and welded iron. It's not sleek; it's brutal and top-heavy, sitting on two monstrous, deeply treaded tyres that seemed to have been scavenged from a military surplus truck.
