Standing atop the FRS in my Gortex coat, I braced myself against the biting wind that whipped my hair around. Through the binoculars, I scanned the horizon ahead, watching as storm clouds gathered ominously in the direction we were headed. With the temperature plummeting rapidly, the threat of ice and snow was becoming a serious concern.

Raptor and Flamewing were out ahead, scouting the road conditions. They’d been gone nearly an hour when I finally spotted them in the distance. It wasn’t long before Raptor came soaring up, shifting mid-air and landing beside me on the FRS. Ice clung to his naked body, crackling as he shook it off and ran a hand through his wet hair.

“If we want to make it to Salt Lake City, we need to move now. If we wait until morning, the mountain pass could be completely blocked,” he said, his tone heavy with concern.

“How bad does it look?” I asked, still scanning the storm’s progress.

“Winter’s coming early this year, and that storm is massive. It’ll slow us down, but we have a chance to push through before it gets really bad,” he replied.

I nodded, then let out a sharp whistle to gather everyone’s attention. Raptor leaped off the FRS, shifting back into his dragon form mid-air as he took flight. I watched him for a moment before turning my focus to the fleets gathering below.

“We’re about to hit a massive winter storm over the mountain pass. We’ve got two hundred and ten miles to Salt Lake City, and Raptor says we have to leave now or we won’t make it. Dragon Fleet, get your snow chains out and prepare for snow and ice. 77th Armored Regiment, you can either tag along or stay behind—it’s up to you. We came prepared for this,” I announced, my voice cutting through the cold air.

Dragon Fleet responded with a unified woof of acknowledgment, saluting before jumping into action. Meanwhile, the 77th Armored Regiment hesitated, clearly unsure of their next move. I caught Colonel Sirus glaring up at me, his face twisted with frustration.

“What the hell are we supposed to do? We didn’t bring snow chains for our trucks!” he shouted, his voice carrying more anger than reason.

I couldn’t help but smirk as I shrugged. “That’s not my problem, Colonel. General Zaraki told you we’re experts in our field, but you mocked my trucks and my sergeant. Where’s that macho attitude now?”

Sirus’s face turned a dangerous shade of red as he stormed off, barking orders at his unit. I could hear him grumbling under his breath about showing us just how capable his trucks were. The whole exchange brought a smile to my face.

After climbing down from the FRS, I joined my team in getting our snow chains on. It took us a solid hour to finish the job, but by the time I climbed back into my cab, we were ready to roll. I found Stoneclaw already sitting in the passenger seat, handing me a bottle of water as I settled in.

“Where’s Mac?” I asked, taking a long gulp of water.

“She’s riding in the MCV with Scuzball. They’re going to monitor the trucks and work some kind of voodoo magic to keep us from sliding off the road. It’s all way above my head,” Stoneclaw snorted, leaning back in his seat.

I chuckled, knowing full well that Stoneclaw was far more knowledgeable than he let on. “You’re a book dragon, you should have some idea of what they’re doing.”

As if on cue, Icetail walked by and overheard us. He poked his head into the cab with a mischievous grin. “Sure, he’s a book dragon, but it’s mostly smut,” he quipped.

“No, it’s not!” Stoneclaw roared, his voice echoing through the cab.

“Uh-huh, that’s why eighty percent of your library is half-naked men clutching swooning women on the covers?” Icetail shot back with a snicker.

I could see smoke beginning to waft from Stoneclaw’s nostrils as he glared daggers at Icetail. “That’s it… I’m melting your plastic block tower when we get back to Georgia!” he growled.

Icetail just laughed and walked off, heading toward his assigned truck. I took the opportunity to close my door before anyone else decided to poke their heads in. As I turned to look at Stoneclaw, I noticed a cloud of smoke now drifting over his head. I cracked open the passenger window to let the smoke escape, shaking my head in mild amusement.

“Do you guys always argue like this?” I couldn’t help but ask.

“The joys of pretty much being brothers…” he grumbled, his irritation still simmering.

“You guys are brothers?” I asked curiously, arching an eyebrow.

“Not by blood, no. That’s just how we see ourselves,” he answered, the tension in his voice easing slightly.

“Ah, got it,” I said, pulling on my headset. “Well, I guess payback’s a bitch for revealing Crookedfang’s hoarding habits.”

Stoneclaw’s jaw fell open, and he shot me a glare that could melt ice. I just gave him a wicked grin, enjoying the moment as I indicated on my tablet that I was ready to roll.

“Are you defending him and his hoarding habits?” he huffed, still clearly agitated.

“Yes, I am—just like I’d defend yours,” I replied with a sly smile.

He shut his mouth with an audible click, crossing his arms and sulking like a child denied candy. I watched as each truck turned green on my screen, signaling that everyone was ready.

“You know, Mac does a nearly perfect imitation of your brooding habits. It’s rather funny to see,” I teased, clicking on the fleet-wide channel.

“I don’t brood…” Stoneclaw grumbled, not realizing I had just activated the channel for all to hear. Immediately, the entire fleet chimed in, confirming in unison that he did, indeed, brood.

I couldn’t help but laugh as Stoneclaw sat there, wide-eyed and embarrassed, realizing I had just caught him on a hot mic. The look on his face was too priceless to resist.

Before he could say anything in his defense, I spoke into my mic. “Are we ready to roll?” I asked the fleet, trying to stifle my laughter.

Multiple acknowledgments rang out, confirming that everyone was good to go. Releasing the brakes, I slid my truck into gear and let the clutch out, feeling the heavy rumble as we began to move.

Within an hour and a half, the temperature outside began to plummet. The dark clouds above us opened up, releasing large, thick flakes of snow that peppered my windshield and covered the ground. Gusts of wind buffeted my truck from the north, and it wasn’t long before the snow began to obscure the road, making it difficult to see the surface. I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the storm pressing down on us, and glanced over at Stoneclaw.

“This may get a bit hairy,” I said softly, more to myself than to him.

“If anyone can handle this, it’s you,” he replied, his voice calm as he turned to meet my gaze.

I gave him a nod, appreciating the confidence he had in me, and then radioed Steve. “Steve, the road is getting bad ahead of us. What’s the weather looking like?” I asked, keeping my voice steady despite the growing tension.

“From what Scuzball is forecasting, it’s going to get worse. The storm is building, and it’s looking nasty,” he answered, a hint of concern creeping into his tone.

“Lyra, look at the switch panel on the left of your steering wheel where your controls for the lights are,” Mac’s voice cut in over the radio, clear and focused.

“Okay,” I said, glancing down at the switch panel. “What am I looking for?”

“Do you see the three blank switches above your lights and hazards?” Mac asked, her tone instructive.

“Yeah,” I replied, my curiosity piqued.

“Push the first switch down,” she instructed, her voice carrying an air of anticipation.

I did as she instructed, pushing the first switch down. I watched in amazement as the blade on the front of my truck dropped, followed by the unmistakable sound of metal scraping against asphalt.

“You added hydraulics to the blade?” I said in surprise, turning to look at Stoneclaw, who just shrugged with a grin.

“Yes, now push the second switch up. It will angle the blade so the snow will be pushed out of the way,” Mac continued, her voice filled with pride.

I pushed the second button up, watching as the blade angled toward the passenger side of the truck. I was thoroughly impressed. Mac had really outdone herself this time. Shifting down from eighteenth gear into seventeenth, I pushed my RPMs up to stay in the power band of the engine, ensuring the snow wouldn’t slow us down as it thickened. The wave of snow flying past my truck as we plowed forward was both mesmerizing and a testament to Mac’s ingenuity.

A huge bolt of lightning suddenly flashed through the sky above us, followed by a deafening clap of thunder that rattled my truck. The sky was growing darker and more menacing by the minute, the storm intensifying with every mile. The snow began to fall harder, and the wind shifted, slamming into the front of my truck with brutal force.

“Holy Luna!” I gasped as another bolt of lightning lit up the sky, this one a vivid, unnatural purple.

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“Lyra, this storm is not a natural storm,” Scuzball announced, his usual nonchalance tinged with an edge of concern.

“What do you mean it’s not a natural storm?” I demanded, my grip tightening on the wheel as another purple bolt of lightning sliced through the sky.

“I’m getting unnatural readings from the satellites overhead,” he replied, a hint of frustration in his voice.

“Scuzball, get to the point. We’re rolling into it now,” I growled, my patience wearing thin as the storm intensified around us.

“The best answer I have is that this storm is being driven by the magic leaking from the epicenter of the District of Columbia. There isn’t any known data about the effects this magic has on weather patterns out here,” he explained, his tone becoming more serious.

“Okay, so what does that mean for us?” I asked, trying to focus on the road ahead while my mind raced with possibilities.

“It means I can’t give you an accurate weather forecast. The winds keep shifting, and the storm is growing,” he huffed irritably, clearly out of his comfort zone.

“Then what do you suggest we do?” I demanded, my voice rising with the urgency of the situation.

“Alpha, from Scuzball’s simulations, this storm is going to get extremely nasty. With us already in it, the only option we have is to punch through it. If we stop, we’ll get trapped,” Steve answered, his tone calm but resolute.

“Can we handle what it’s going to throw at us?” I asked, scanning the darkening horizon.

“With the weight of the rigs, we should be able to handle the crosswinds,” Mac chimed in, her voice confident.

“We’re about one hundred and ten miles out from Salt Lake City,” Catalina added, keeping us grounded in the facts.

“Scuzball, how bad is the storm going to get in the next two hours?” I asked, trying to gauge just how much of a fight we were in for.

“It’s not looking good, Lyra. I can’t give an accurate forecast, but from what I can guess, you have a two-to-three-hour window before it gets to the point where you don’t want to be on the road,” he replied, the worry in his tone unsettling.

I had never heard Scuzball sound worried before, and when an all-powerful AI was worried, it made me worried too.

“The four of you put your heads together and do whatever voodoo magic you need to come up with a game plan to get us through this storm,” I ordered, echoing Stoneclaw’s earlier words with a determined edge.

Stoneclaw shot me a playful look, letting out a soft chuckle despite the situation. I winked back at him, focusing on the road as the snow began to thicken, bogging down my rig. I upshifted from seventeenth to sixteenth to maintain my RPMs, knowing it wouldn’t be long before we’d be crawling through this mess.

“Dragon Fleet, prepare for battering ram maneuver,” Steve announced over the fleet-wide channel, then switched to our leader channel. “Lyra, we’re going to use the same maneuver that we used to smash through the barricade on our first mission. Mac is currently linking all the trucks to her workstation to control the engines’ power output and the tire inflation systems.”

“Everyone is showing green for the maneuver,” Catalina confirmed, her voice steady and focused.

“Proceed,” I ordered, the weight of command settling on my shoulders as I braced for what was to come.

“Dragon Fleet, commence battering ram maneuver. Scuzball will now take control of your brakes and accelerators,” Steve announced over the fleet-wide channel, his tone leaving no room for hesitation.

A moment later, I felt the bump from the truck behind me as it connected with the FRS trailer. Another bolt of lightning flashed overhead, as if acknowledging our attempt to break through the storm’s grip.

My RPMs began to climb, and I shifted back to seventeenth gear as the convoy powered through the snow-covered interstate.

“Maintain seventeenth gear,” Mac instructed. “I’ll call out when you need to shift.”

We were maintaining sixty-two miles an hour, plowing through nearly two feet of snow. The wave of snow my rig was creating was massive, a testament to the power and determination driving us forward. My tablet screen flashed, and the usual display vanished, replaced by a digital version of the interstate with lines acting as guidelines for me to follow. Keeping one eye on the road and the other on my tablet, I kept the rig on course, pushing us through the worsening storm.

The weather wasn’t letting up; in fact, it was getting worse. As we began to climb into the mountains, Mac announced the need to upshift to sixteenth gear. The roar of our trucks filled the air as we pushed forward, the snow and mountain grade doing little to slow us down. Even under these conditions, we were holding steady at fifty-five miles an hour.

It wasn’t long before we reached the Utah-Wyoming border and began our descent down the mountain pass. Scuzball was expertly modulating the trucks’ engine brakes and air brakes as we barreled through nearly three feet of snow. The combined weight of our rigs and the relentless momentum helped us plow through the snowdrifts, and with the added pull of gravity, we maintained our speed as we pressed forward.

“How’s the 77th holding up?” I asked over the radio, glancing at the convoy behind us.

“They’re keeping up, but that Colonel is bitching up a storm. He called you a ‘crazy bitch,’” Scuzball replied, his tone laced with amusement.

I snorted. “He should’ve figured that out by now.”

“Well, he doesn’t seem to be the brightest crayon in the box,” Kira chimed in with a chuckle.

“Ain’t that the truth,” Sasha added, her voice tinged with sarcasm.

“You’d think a Colonel would have more brains,” Cain joked.

“I’ve met butter bars smarter than him,” Ironfist quipped, hitting the Colonel where it hurt.

Laughter rippled through the fleet. Comparing Colonel Sirus to a 2nd lieutenant—infamously known as "butter bars"—was a low blow, but an accurate one. Even I couldn’t disagree with the dragon’s assessment.

I glanced over at Stoneclaw, noticing his white-knuckled grip on the door handle. We’d just passed the I-80 and I-84 interchange, rolling by the Echo Reservoir. Despite the banter on the radio, he’d been unusually quiet since we hit the worst of the storm. The wind had died down, but the snow still fell heavily, and the clouds hung dark and ominous overhead.

“Didn’t you once fly through a hurricane to retrieve a bag of books? What’s got you, the great and powerful Stoneclaw, so nervous?” I teased, trying to lighten the mood.

“The fact that I’m trapped inside a tin can on a snow-covered mountain road,” he replied, his voice tight with unease.

“Okay, but what’s the real difference?” I asked, genuinely curious.

“The difference is that I’m not in control,” he admitted, glancing at me with a resigned look.

“You’re a special operations soldier, and you’re afraid of a little snow?” I quipped, smirking. “You must’ve done crazier things than this.”

“Yeah, I’ve done some crazy shit, but this? This tops it. We’re pushing through mountains during a nasty winter storm at high speed with shit visibility. I don’t even know how you’re doing it, but it’s got me nervous as hell,” he confessed, his usual confidence shaken.

I gave him a devious grin, returning my focus to the road as we pressed on. By the time we reached Silver Summit, the storm finally began to break, and the snowfall eased.

Not long after, a crackling sound came through my headset, followed by a new voice cutting in.

“781st Transportation Pack, this is the Crescent Moon. Can you hear me? Come in,” a male voice said, sounding slightly strained.

“Crescent Moon, this is Dragon Warrior One. I read you loud and clear,” I replied, inventing a call sign on the spot. Stoneclaw raised an eyebrow at my impromptu moniker, but I just shrugged and flashed him a grin.

“It’s about time. We’ve been trying to reach you. We lost your GPS tracking signal nearly three hours ago,” the voice said, the tension in his voice hinting at the stress of the situation.

“Aww, was the General trying to reach me about my truck’s extended warranty?” I joked, knowing full well Cayro was probably listening in. Stoneclaw cracked up beside me, his earlier tension melting away.

“No, Dragon Warrior One, the General was concerned that you weren’t going to make it. The storm we were tracking looked pretty bad,” the voice replied, his tone flat and unamused.

“It was bad, but we’re Dragon Fleet. Not much phases us,” I said, letting a hint of pride seep into my voice.

“The General says he’s glad you were able to make it. We’re sending you the coordinates for the rendezvous point. Please proceed there to receive further orders,” the voice instructed, his tone all business.

I rolled my eyes, glaring out at the road ahead. “Please ask the General if he’d be so kind as to speak with me on a secured channel?”

“Unfortunately, Dragon Warrior One, he’s currently busy. He can’t speak with you right now,” the voice responded, the flatness of his tone barely masking the bureaucratic brush-off.

I let out a low, simmering growl of frustration. This dude was really starting to piss me off. I wasn't in the mood to deal with some low-ranking, dull-voiced enlisted soldier after what my team and I had just been through. Pushing through a howling nightmare of a winter storm with the 77th Armored Regiment in tow had left my nerves frayed and my patience in tatters.

“Listen here, Crescent Moon communications specialist,” I snapped, my voice slicing through the radio like a blade, “you can either get General Cayro Zaraki on the horn right now, or you can deal with me in person when I reach the Crescent Moon. My team and I didn’t just punch through a goddamn blizzard to be stonewalled by some half-assed lackey. Get my Alpha on the damn line. Now!”

I caught Stoneclaw’s eyebrows shooting up in surprise at my demand, but I didn’t care. My grip on the steering wheel tightened, my knuckles turning white with the effort to keep my temper in check. There was a long silence on the other end, the tension crackling through the airwaves, before I finally heard the voice I’d been waiting for.

“Lyra?” Cayro’s calm, authoritative voice came through the speaker. “I was informed you wanted to speak with me?”

The sound of his voice was like a balm, cooling the fire in my veins. “Yes, we’re almost there. Sorry we’re running a bit behind. We ran into a... snag,” I said, my tone steadying as I filled him in.

“We figured you might be a little late. How bad was that storm, by the way?” he asked, concern lacing his words.

“It was bad,” I replied, the memory of the relentless snow and howling winds fresh in my mind. “The roads will most likely be impassable by morning.”

“Even with your enhanced trucks?” Cayro pressed, his tone shifting slightly.

“Based on the snowfall and the simulated forecast Scuzball created, I’m guessing there’ll be close to six to eight feet of snow by morning. With us running empty, we won’t have the weight to push through it,” I explained, knowing the gravity of the situation.

“Understood, standby please,” Cayro responded before his voice faded slightly as he spoke to someone else.

“Sir, we’re receiving intel that the enemy is moving in fast,” a new voice said in the background, the urgency palpable.

“How many?” Cayro demanded, his tone instantly shifting to the cold, commanding edge that made him the General he was.

“They’re estimating roughly an entire brigade’s worth of soldiers, artillery, light armor, trucks, and a squadron of air support,” the voice reported, the seriousness of the situation settling in.

“Give the order to get into defensive positions and prepare for battle,” Cayro barked, his voice brooking no argument.

“Roger, Sir!” the voice replied, the urgency clear.

“Lyra, get those supplies and tanks here ASAP,” Cayro ordered, his tone leaving no room for delay.

“Yes, Sir. On it,” I replied, my mind shifting gears as I switched to the fleet-wide channel. We were about to roll into a hot zone, and I needed everyone on their A-game. This was going to be a long night.

“Scuzball, patch the 77th into the fleet-wide comms channel,” I ordered, my voice firm with the command.

“On it,” he chimed in immediately.

A moment later, Scuzball appeared on my tablet screen, giving me a thumbs up. The fleet had gone silent when I issued the order, everyone waiting with bated breath for what I had to say next.

“Alright, you lazy bastards,” I growled with authority, my voice carrying the weight of command, “let’s get these supplies to the front line. The enemy is at the door knocking, and we need to answer. Hammer down and kick it into high gear, or I’ll use your trucks for target practice.”

My fleet responded with a chorus of enthusiastic woofs and howls, the excitement and determination crackling through the air. It was time to show everyone exactly who we were.

“Acosta,” Sirus growled over the comms, his voice dripping with irritation, “just make sure we get there in one piece. I’d rather not have to explain to General Zaraki why his precious tanks are scattered across the freeway.”

I let out a snort of laughter, and several of my wolves joined in, cackling at the irony of his statement. The man had no idea how close he was to being the butt of his own joke.

“Well, Colonel Sirus,” I replied darkly, “you just better hope that your drivers are as good as our securement skills, because we aren’t slowing down for anything.” I gave a sharp nod to Scuzball. “Hit it!”

The opening notes of "Danza Kuduro" by Don Omar blasted through the trucks’ sound systems as we roared down the mountainside into Salt Lake City. The adrenaline was pumping, my team’s voices raised in karaoke, filling the airwaves with their defiance and spirit. In the background, I could hear Colonel Sirus bitching up a storm as we began to pull away from his convoy, but I didn’t care. We weren’t slowing down until we absolutely had to.