Victor clapped his hands together, the sharp crack echoing down the street like a gunshot.
"Alright," he said. "We move south. Find something that still has walls and more than two working doors. Finch, map it. Rose, take half the crew and clear the east block. Voss.."
"With you, Silver," Voss said smoothly, already moving.
Victor's mouth tightened, but he nodded.
Felicity kept her head down as they assembled. She focused on tightening the strap of her pack, on the scuffed toes of her boots, on literally anything except the feeling of eyes on her skin.
Because they were there.
Every time she glanced up, someone was watching. Sometimes openly. Sometimes quickly, like they'd been caught doing something they hadn't meant to do. Hunger. Envy. Hope. Curiosity. Relief. It was all mixed together, impossible to untangle.
She felt like a drop of water in a drought.
Outside, frost clung to the broken street, her breath puffing white in the morning air. The city looked different in daylight. Less monstrous. More… deceptive.
Ruins softened by green. Fire escapes swallowed by vines. Storefronts reduced to mossy glass teeth. Beautiful, in a dangerous way. Every shadow felt loaded, like it might move if she blinked wrong.
Finch skidded to a halt at the mouth of an alley, nostrils flaring. His ears pricked sharply forward.
"Six," he said. "Fresh turned."
His eyes gleamed yellow in the half-light.
The first zombie barely had time to snarl before Rose was already moving.
Vines tore free from her forearms, snapping outward like living whips. They coiled around torsos and legs, yanking bodies off balance and slamming them into brick with wet, crunching force. Her squad flowed in around her, blades flashing, finishing what her magic started without hesitation.
"Six my ass," Rose muttered, dodging a snapping jaw and driving a knife up through its palate. "They multiply when you're not looking."
Finch's roar split the air as he launched himself forward, movement blurring into something barely contained. His claws struck with brutal precision, tearing through rot and bone like it was paper. Giddy followed, hooves cracking pavement, every leap landing with enough force to shudder the ground.
Victor felt it then.
The shift.
He glanced back.
Felicity stood just behind the line, hands clenched at her chest, shoulders squared despite the fear shimmering in her eyes. She wasn't frozen. She wasn't hiding.
She was watching.
When she met Victor's gaze, he nodded once.
That was all she needed.
She lifted her hands and let her magic go.
The emerald glow spilled outward, thinner than before but wider, threading through Snow Team like a living current. It slid into muscle and bone, into breath and balance, settling without resistance.
The effect was immediate.
Finch laughed, wild and breathless, as he moved even faster, claws hitting harder, cleaner.
"Everything feels light!" he shouted.
"Don't get cocky," Rose snapped, slamming her palm into the pavement. A fresh line of thorns erupted, skewering the last cluster of zombies and pinning them in place. "That's a buff, not a blessing."
She flicked a glance over her shoulder.
Caught Voss staring.
Not at the fight.
At Felicity.
"Oh my god," Rose called, still tearing vines free from shattered concrete. "Silver, your boyfriend is doing that thing again."
Victor growled low and warning.
Voss didn't even pretend innocence. "Watching the asset."
Rose scoffed. "Sure. And I'm Mother Teresa."
She stalked forward, boots crunching over debris. "Try focusing on the zombies instead of the fox before I redirect my plants."
Voss finally tore his eyes away, smirking. "Jealous?"
"No," Rose shot back. "Irritated. There's a difference."
The last zombie fell moments later. Silence rushed in, broken only by heavy breathing and the faint hum of Felicity's magic fading away.
Snow Team straightened, bodies still charged, senses buzzing. They hadn't just felt stronger.
They'd felt… covered.
Rose dismissed her vines and rolled her shoulders. "Cleanup done. And for the record," she added, pointing two fingers at Voss's eyes and then back at Felicity, "if you keep staring holes through her mid-combat, I'm counting it as a distraction."
"Worth it," Voss said.
"Men are exhausting," Rose muttered.
Felicity swayed slightly as the last of her magic burned off.
Victor was there instantly, steadying her, his hand firm at her back. Not gripping. Just present.
"You did good," he said quietly.
She smiled, tired but proud.
Behind them, Snow Team adjusted grips, posture subtly shifting. No one crowded her. No one spoke over her. It happened without comment, like a habit they hadn't realized they'd formed.
Rose caught up to Felicity once the adrenaline burned off.
It was always the same window. Ten minutes after a fight. Long enough for everyone else to be loud and triumphant. Short enough that Felicity hadn't fully stopped shaking yet.
She was sitting on a chunk of fallen concrete, sipping water Victor had pressed into her hands, tail curled tight around her leg. Rose stopped in front of her, looked her over, then sighed.
"Alright," she said. "Before you apologize, don't."
Felicity blinked. "I wasn't—"
"Yes you were."
Rose crouched anyway. "You didn't freeze. You didn't overextend. You didn't collapse mid-fight." A pause. "And you didn't accidentally turn us into gods."
"I felt like I was going to throw up."
"Normal. Means you care."
Rose flicked Felicity's ear lightly. "If anyone made you uncomfortable, you tell me."
"…Voss was staring."
Rose snorted. "Yeah. He does that. Still doesn't mean you owe him shit."
Felicity hesitated. "You were kind of mean this morning."
Rose winced. "Yeah. I was." She looked away. "Everyone forgot I existed."
Felicity leaned forward and gently bumped her forehead against Rose's shoulder.
Rose stiffened. Then relaxed. "Don't do that. It works."
"I like you."
"You're lucky I like you too."
She hauled Felicity to her feet. "Come on. Victor's hovering again."
Victor was, in fact, hovering.
They moved out.
The next block turned into controlled chaos.
Rose surged ahead, thorned roots erupting from spiderwebbed pavement. Zombies shrieked as they were flung into walls or crushed beneath tightening growth. Finch tore through openings with manic glee, claws ripping hearts free. Giddy charged like a battering ram, bodies flying.
Felicity stayed back, hands glowing faintly, adjusting the flow instinctively now. She wasn't guessing anymore. She was choosing.
Who needed more. Who needed less.
And Snow Team followed her lead without ever realizing they were doing it.
Only when the street finally fell quiet did Rose let the plants sink back into the earth.
Her irritation, at least, was gone.
And Felicity, breathing hard but standing tall, realized something important. She wasn't just being protected.
She was participating.
And that made all the difference.
Not the fragile, holding-its-breath quiet of a place waiting to erupt again, but the heavy stillness that came after something decisive. Steam rose faintly from split pavement where Rose's vines had torn free, the air still sharp with sap, rot.
Snow Team lingered, They always did after Felicity worked like that.
Someone checked a weapon that didn't need checking. Someone else rolled their shoulders like they were relearning how their body fit together. Giddy laughed once, short and disbelieving, then clamped his mouth shut like he'd embarrassed himself by doing it.
Voss hadn't moved.
He stood a few paces behind Felicity, arms crossed, eyes following her as she drank, as she breathed, as she steadied. Not staring this time. Watching in the way you watched a fire you trusted not to burn you but still respected.
When she finally straightened, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, he stepped forward, Not crowding.
Just close enough.
He looked down at her, head tilted, amber eyes bright with something that wasn't hunger and wasn't calculation either. Something simpler.
"You're getting better at that," he said.
Felicity blinked. "At… not falling over?"
A corner of his mouth twitched.
"At knowing how much to give," he replied.
She flushed, ducking her head. "I'm just guessing."
Voss snorted softly. Then, like it was the most natural thing in the world, he reached out and rested his hand on the top of her head.
A single, gentle pat.
Her ears flicked in reflex. Heat rushed to her face.
Victor stiffened.
Rose stopped mid-step.
Half of Snow Team froze like someone had hit pause.
Voss didn't seem to notice any of it. He patted her head once more, slower, thumb brushing lightly through her hair. "Good fox," he said again, low and satisfied.
Then he withdrew his hand and stepped back like nothing remarkable had happened.
Ash chose that moment to clasp his hands together.
"Blessed be the fox who strengthens the weary," he intoned solemnly. "She who walks unarmed and leaves no one broken—"
Sarge smacked him upside the head, "Don't," Sarge said flatly.
Ash rubbed the back of his skull, unfazed. "I'm just saying. The signs are there."
"No signs," Sarge replied. "No chanting. No pamphlets."
Ash brightened anyway. "We protect the light."
Sarge raised his hand again.
Ash added quickly, "Silently."
Felicity looked between them, baffled. "Are you… okay?"
Victor stepped in before anyone could answer, hand settling at her back, firm and grounding. "They're fine," he said. "Ignore them."
Voss's tail flicked once, amused. Snow Team began to move again, falling back into formation without discussion. Someone handed Felicity a snack without comment. Someone else adjusted their pace to match hers, She didn't notice when it happened.
But the road ahead opened, just a little.
And for the first time since the world ended, the group didn't feel like people passing through ruin.
They felt like something that would keep going.