Time, that was the problem. While Oren would probably outlive Lily now, he was barely strong enough to get out of bed. Lily surmised that she had maybe a month at most before she was no better off. So she needed to execute a plan fairly swiftly.
But what was her plan? The tram ride home from work gave her some time to mull it over. They were just only getting by, so purchasing an airship was completely out of the question. Perhaps they could be hired as help on said airship? But there were hundreds of people clamoring for those jobs and no one needed a clockworker bad enough to employ them full-time, especially not with an ill brother. They could try sneaking aboard one but a cough from either of them would have them found immediately. Working on one of the farms ringing the city during the day would provide them with clean air while they worked, but they would still need to come back to the city and its lucrite at night. There were treatments (expensive of course) but no cures yet, just a constant parade of snakeoil salemen eager to take the cash of the gullible.
As she eliminated possibilities one by one, one idea at the back of her mind only became more and more prominent. It was a ridiculous idea, bordering on suicidal. To leave the city limits was to sign your own death certificate. If bandits did not slaughter you during the day…well, then it would be the Nightmares that would come for you in the night.