Offer accepted and settled in

After a pause, the voice said, "That's bold. I could be a monster in here. Just pull your weight with the work—that'll be enough." The side hatch hissed open, and Torg stepped into the frame. Mira’s shoulders dropped as she released a tight breath. She gave a curt, efficient nod, her eyes quickly taking in his appearance—the worn jacket, the shoulder-length hair, his shaven face, the dust on his boots.

“We can work,” she stated evenly. “I cook, clean, maintain gear, and keep watch. The girls learn fast. We won’t slow you down.”

“Yeah!” Lena chirped. “We can fix things!”

Rina only nodded once. “We work.”

Torg motioned them inside. “Get in. We can’t sit long. You armed? Trained?”

They moved swiftly toward the hatch. Lena scrambled up eagerly, peering into the dim interior with wide eyes. Rina entered more cautiously, casting one last look at the ruins outside before stepping into shadow. Mira came last, pausing on the threshold before entering.

Her hand drifted to her hip. “Pistol and a knife. The girls have knives too.”

“Stow your gear. There are blankets in the side lockers—make yourselves beds while I drive.” He turned back toward the cockpit.

Mira dipped her head. “We’ll keep clear.”

Lena giggled, hoisting a small pack. “Blankets! It’s so big in here! You think there’s food?”

Torg calls back from the cockpit, “There’s food in the lockers on the other side of the truck!”

Rina was already moving toward the rear, scanning the compartment with a quiet intensity before settling into a corner to unpack.

He kept driving toward the next village, hours away, listening to them rustle through the lockers. Mira pulled out thick wool blankets and laid them over a flat metal bench, smoothing the fabric with a firm hand. Lena tossed pillows into a pile, humming something off-key and nervous. Rina sat cross-legged on the floor, working a rag along the edge of her knife with slow, deliberate strokes.