Juna watched the machines pass the grounded mint, their formation tightening above the rooftops between Ferra's archive and the clinic. One Wing carried her above the parapet while two waited folded, and the forward blades swung toward the patient route.
The clinic's linen awning shook under their passing formation while a bearer hurried the nearest stretcher inside.
'Ten of them, all pointy, and not one of them smells like anything worth eating.'
"They've left the forge," she reported through the bond, keeping the first machine between herself and the canal.
"The clinic's their target, and they're bringing a fresh route instead of trying the stake again."
Hajin's answer reached her while four machines broke away toward the entrance beneath the parapet.
"Keep the patient lane open," he told her, "and let them show you the return route before you cut it."
"So I watch them poke at sick people and take notes?"
