Anyone can join, with a 50-word vignette in the comments. Your vignette does not have to include the prompt term.
She had to act, not gawk. She whirled to face Traya.
"Traya, I know you are young, but this is important, and there's no one else. Go find Captain Zachary that his squad is needed here. He'll be at the infirmary."
Traya's eyes widened. She nodded, and ran.
It had been easy to be decisive in the mountain. His mouth twitched. Or at the airport. Here, where the road admitted of no choices and no decisions, it was easier to let the weight of it all crush down on his spirit.
Which was folly. They could be attacked.
He followed. How decisive of you, he told himself, sourly.
Minutes later an arched doorway into a hillside appeared ahead, and Princess Casilde, beside. Her eyebrows went up.
"I see the captain choose you for good reason," she murmured.
"Wait till we see the dirigible to be sure of me."
The woman ushered them into a room filled with chairs upholstered in floral prints, and fat cushions; tables with knickknacks, mostly of flowers.
"Very certain, our Hobert seems," she said, dryly. "I think he had it already planned out, what he would do with you."