“Ow, dang it!” He turned to face the voice. It was Hirsild. She had cut her side on an errant piece of wood from the wall of the shelter by this mountain stop, a mere five feet away from him. She was gripping the cut and hissing. Handy stared. She looked up, and Handy snapped out of his trance and hurriedly put his helmet on, marching back to the train without a word.