The Ironwood Forest faded behind them, replaced by the steep, rocky slopes of the Spine of Osgard.
The air grew thin and cold. Snow began to fall, dusting the black armor of the Pendelton Cruiser in white powder.
Arthur drove carefully. The road here was not paved. It was an old goat path, barely wide enough for the car's massive tires. On the left was a wall of rock. On the right was a thousand-foot drop into the clouds.
"It is freezing," Julian complained from the back seat. He was wrapped in three blankets. "Why is the heater not working?"
"I diverted the heat to the engine," Arthur explained, his eyes fixed on the treacherous path. "The air is thin up here. The steam boiler needs to work harder to keep pressure. If I heat the cabin, the car stops. If the car stops, we freeze to death."
"I choose being cold over being dead," Vivian said, rubbing her gloved hands together. "But only barely."
