The industrial district always had a particular atmosphere.
Mod heard the line-shaft relay first. Then the foundry exhaust. Three chimneys were running different processes, each with its own rhythm. Together they created a melody she associated with this part of the city. By afternoon, she could easily notice the district before she saw a single building.
They spotted Tam outside.
She stood beside the main foundry entrance, leaning against the corner of the building with something in both hands.
Her apron was on.
At this point, Mod accepted that as normal. Tam seemed capable of acquiring food under almost any circumstances.
The source was easy to find. A vendor had parked a handcart a few steps down the street. A flat iron griddle sat over a small brazier, compact enough to move if necessary. The surface had been hot for hours. The fat coating it had darkened to the point where it was actually useful for cooking. Several small round cakes were nearly finished.
