Anyone can join, with a 50-word vignette in the comments. Your vignette does not have to include the prompt term.
The machinery hummed. Dostin glared at him.
"As if I would have any way to return to my home safely, alone," he said.
"There's roads," said Dr. Dombrey. "Out of the mountains, at least."
"Who would go on the blue men's roads?"
"Someone who wanted to meet no one, it seems," said Edmund.
For a moment, all was silent. Not the rustle of a breeze in the leaves, not a note of birdsong, not a hum of a bee.
Then the measured footsteps started. William and Carolus walked on. Sometimes more noise, when they stepped on dead leaves (though half gone from moldering away), sometimes less, on the earth. She scrambled along.
Liliya pulled back. Between the concrete and the steel, the machinery was humming along like a bee that had gained the power of supersize, and Traya's nose wrinkled at it. She still followed when Liliya hurried down the maintenance corridor, which Liliya supposed was good.
Sunlight ahead marked the door.
She set to work and hummed under the breath as she planted the autumnal flowers. But her thoughts kept coming back to the book. She did gardening. She did not do security. Even for the business, she used the safe her father had given her. . . .
She raised the question over dinner.