Somewhere behind them is Tamminy, picking herself up after scrambling to her own spot of refuge. She'll have to pick her way back onto the clear path with care: underfoot the ground is littered with circuit boards and spiky metal shards and bits of old seats built for people of wildly varying size, springs stabbing out through the moldering cloth. She’s lost and she’s alone out here, but she must have one advantage. The way the junk is piled up here, a gnome can surely find some nooks to hide in and even- yes! wriggle through the gaps to get out of sight. And surely some of these bits of wire and metal and appliances aren’t totally useless…

Better think fast, however. There are shadows moving through the snow farther down this aisle. A guttural sound echoes from the rusted walls, like a voice, like words deep and stilted and unnatural.