"What are they?" Grauel whispered from Marika's side.
"I do not know."
"Looks like meth on them," Barlog murmured from Marika's other side.
"I do not know," Marika said again. She had begun shaking all over. A fierce and dreadful shadow-of-touch rolled ahead of the crosses, boiling with a mindless terror.
A tremendous explosion thundered out behind them. Its force threw the three of them together, against the stone of the wall. Marika gasped for breath. Grauel turned, pointed her rifle. It began to bark counterpoint to Bagnel's, which was speaking already.
Nomad shapes appeared in the dust boiling around the gap in the wall blown by the charge.
Marika clung to the window and stared out.
The three rushing crosses rose, screaming into the sky, parting.