"If only Turd-kin hadn't woken up..." Wren grumbled. She tore another layer of metal from the Dirty Countess' hull and tossed it aside, where it landed with a loud crash.

The crew had strapped an extra layer of scrap metal to the ship as an extra precaution. It had acted as a disguise, concealing the ship's wooden shell and long narrow tail. The Paragon would have a harder time tracking her down if they didn't know what she really looked like.

Now that they were deep in the northern woods, a safe distance from Ice Gate, the crew worked together to remove the extra weight. The scrap didn't look all that better than the Dirty Countess's own chipped, stained body.

"Don't worry, Wren," said Abigail. "Sometimes we're the dog, and sometimes we're the tree."

"I'm tired of being the tree," Wren said. "When do we get to be the dog? Anyway, I guess I could've shot him, but then the Paragon would really be out for blood. They would've made someone pay..."

"They're still going to make someone pay," said Godfrey. "It was a tough job. You did the best you could." He threw another piece of scrap onto the discard pile.

Wren scowled, hearing only criticism. Godfrey was both her best friend and her harshest critic. "Way to rub it in," she snapped.

"What? I said it was a tough job!"

"Don't patronize me!" she snapped. "Besides, you aren't the one who just infiltrated a Paragon outpost."

"Fog me, I said you did a good job! What else do you want, a medal?"

Crash. Another scrap sheet landed on the pile.

She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. "That would be a start."

"I'll go to the forge when we're back at the Strand." The Strand—the Mothers' headquarters, hidden in the Dreadlands Desert to the south.

Wren seethed. She and Godfrey had known each other for a long time—long enough for her to pick up on his haughty tone. He thought he could've done better!

Abigail shot Wren a look that said, "He's egging you on, but don't get sucked in."

Wren tried to bite her tongue and let it go—she really did—but it had been a long and difficult day. She'd had to impersonate a Paragon bootlicker, she'd been chased, she'd been shot at, she'd hurled herself off a wide-open platform, and her hip was sore from the landing hard on the ship below.

Plus, on top of everything, she missed Scarlett something fierce. Wren was ripe for a fight.

She jabbed a finger at Godfrey's chest. "Just say it, you yellow-belly! You think you could've done better than me!" The words burst out of her like a plume of hot steam.

Abigail groaned.

"I never said that!" Godfrey argued.

"You as good as said it!"

She lowered her voice and puffed out her chest. "My name is Godfrey. I always say I'm the best, but I'll never actually stick my neck out."

Godfrey scoffed at the impersonation, then pouted. "I'm Wren. I just love fishing for compliments. 'Hey girl, wanna make out? Just tonight, though, because I'm taken. Well, kind of. It's pretty one-sided.'"

Wren's nostrils flared.

"Uh-oh..." Abigail said under her breath, taking a step back.

Wren launched herself at Godfrey, and they fell to the ground in a scuffle.

"Now, now, children..." Titus chided from a tree stump, where he sat picking dust out of his paws.

"You could help, you know!" Abigail pointed out to him.

"Wasn't risking my scruff enough for one day?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. She rolled her eyes back at him.

"Is everyone out of the way?" a worried voice called from above.

Teddy peeked over the edge of the ship, holding a large piece of scrap.

Wren got in one last slap—"oomph!"—then scrambled away from Godfrey. She brushed the snow off her pants—the brawl had improved her mood a little.

"Go ahead, Teds," she called back. "We're out of the way."

"Are you sure? I'm going to throw it!"

"Yes! Do it already!" Godfrey waved impatiently.

"Is Titus out of the way?"

"Yes!"

"And Abigail?"

"Yes!" everyone shouted together.

"Okay...I'll give you a count-down." He withdrew from view.

"For goodness' sake..." Godfrey muttered.

"Three, two, one! I'm throwing it!" The piece of metal landed squarely on the pile—a perfect landing.

Teddy popped his head over the side of the ship, panicked. "Is everyone okay?"

"We're fine, Teds," Abigail reassured him.

"Oh, good." He smiled an endearing, toothy grin.

Godfrey clapped his hands together. "Come on, let's hurry it up! The Mothers are expecting these supplies, and we should've been in the air three hours ago."

"Can't be late for the Mothers," Wren mumbled to herself.

They all got back to work—except for Titus, of course, who continued to preen.