Smoke rose from the twisted metal. Garvin wriggled free of the snow bank he’d landed in and scanned the wreckage. He sighed as he brushed off snow and bits of rubble. It was going to take a lot of work to repair this mess. Good thing he took his tools with him wherever he went. After heaving one more deep breath, he went to work.

Collin gaped at his companion. Garvin had come out of the crash without a scratch. Plus, he had already salvaged a hammer and was now clanging away at the mangled contraption. The human mage surveyed his own body. Satisfied that only the one leg was broken, he made a vain attempt to locate the rest of their luckless group.

Barion, the burly warrior, lay face down and inert. Collin couldn’t tell if the big man was breathing or not, nor was the spellcaster in a position to offer aid. Marta, their healer, was no where to be seen.

Trust a gnome to get them into so much trouble. Collin sent a desperate prayer to the Gods, hoping that rescue would come in any form except that of small tinkerers with delusions of grandeur.

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