A Chariot in the Hamlet of Steel

An excerpt

Hermy had crawled atop the rocks in the corner. He had one of his two remaining legs hanging over the lip of the box. What was left of his useless back legs were strewn about the snail shell, five dead little soldiers. In the back, there was only a single half leg still attached. But worse, he looked dead. Dammit! I can’t even keep a little spider alive. Her hand reached out, but he moved, and she nearly cried out in joy. He was strong. Stronger than she, and she wanted to help him.

She took him from his hanging position and put him in the palm of her hand. He’d been through a lot, and he needed to heal. If he were going to try to crawl out every time she went to sleep, he wouldn’t last very long in this house.

With the half-dead spider in her left hand, she plucked the snail shell from the box with her right and shook its discarded legs into the box. They were his legs after all. With the shell in her palm, she positioned the hole facing him. He moved his head around, eyeing it up, then dragged himself in until he disappeared in the circular tunnel. He emerged a few seconds later. He extended a leg, touching her palm as though in appreciation. She set him down on the dresser, and he pulled himself around in the snail shell.