The only light came from four small, clear sections of wall — windows, Mixxax had called them — and the little wooden room was immersed in semi-darkness. It was a bizarre situation: to take a shit, she'd had to open a panel and squat over a tube; when she pulled a little lever the waste had been sucked away into the Air. The cabin itself was constructed of panels of wood fixed to a framework of struts and spars. The frame surrounded her, she thought fancifully, like the rib cage of some immense, protective creature. Still half-asleep, she remembered absently her feelings of threat when first climbing into the car. Now, after less than a day, she felt only a womb-like security; it was astonishing how quickly humans could adjust.

Adda's stretcher was still secured to the struts to which they had strapped it. Adda himself seemed to be asleep — or rather, unconscious. He breathed noisily, his mouth gaping and dribbling fluid; his eyes were half-open, but even his good eye was a small lake of pus which leaked slowly onto his cheek and forehead; small, harmless symbiotes covered his cheeks, lapping at the pus. Farr was curled, asleep, into a tight ball, wadded into one corner of the boxy cabin; his face was tucked into his knees and his hair waved gently as he breathed.

Mixxax sat in his comfortable-looking seat before his array of levers and gadgets. He had his back to her, his eyes focused on the journey ahead of them. As he sat in his undershorts she could see afresh how thin and bony this man from the City really was, how pale his flesh. But, at this moment, in control of his vehicle, he radiated calm and competence. It was that very calmness, the feeling of being in a controlled, secure environment — coupled with the exhaustion of the abortive hunt, the stress of Adda's injuries, the thinness of the forest Air — that had lulled Dura and Farr to fall asleep almost instantly, once the car had begun its journey.

Well, Dura was grateful for this brief interlude of peace. Soon enough the pressures of the outside world would return — the responsibilities of Adda's illness, Farr's vulnerability and need for protection, the unimaginable strangeness of the place to which they were being taken. Before long she would be looking back on this brief, secure interlude in the confining walls of the car with nostalgic affection.

Unwinding slowly, stretching to get the stiffness out of her muscles, she pushed out of her corner and glided across the small cabin to Mixxax's seat. She anchored herself by holding on to the back of the chair and peered past him out of his window.

Toba Mixxax gave a start, flinching away from her. Dura had to suppress a laugh at the moment of near-panic on his broad face.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I thought you were asleep."

"The others still are, I think. How long was I out?"