The ground exploded around them in a hail of rocks and hard-packed soil. She kept in a low crouch as she ran, grateful that she’d spent so much time on the island strengthening her legs and coordination—otherwise, she would’ve been a stumbling, panting disaster. A perfect target. As she and Fletcher neared the ship, she saw that it didn’t actually rest on the ground, as the Persephone could. The lieutenant’s modified airship was originally a large fishing trawler. Its curved keel hovered inches above the ground. She also noted with satisfaction that a considerable portion of the ship’s fifty-foot length had been heavily damaged by her ether cannon. But there wasn’t time to admire her handiwork. They reached the ship and pressed flat against its hull, positioning themselves so that Mayhew and Grady’s gunfire couldn’t reach them. Fletcher eyed the rail above. It was a good twenty feet from the ground to the edge of the ship, a distance they both knew proved little obstacle to him, but not to her.
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