Victor kept Felicity close as they moved, a hand always hovering just at her back. Not gripping. Not pulling. Just there. Whenever the terrain turned uneven or rubble forced them to climb, he checked her readiness with small, almost secret touches. A heavy palm bracing her elbow. Fingers steadying her waist. The brief warmth of his hand at her spine before letting go again.
She noticed every single one.
Not in a scary way. In the way you noticed when someone adjusted your collar before you realized it was crooked. Like forgetting where your feet were and having someone quietly remind gravity that you were under protection today.
He does this a lot, she thought, fondly, Like a very serious backpack.
They camped midday in what remained of a park. Shattered playground equipment lay tangled together, the bright colors dulled to rust and moss. An old spiral slide had collapsed under the weight of a fallen tree, crushed and bent into a shape that barely resembled joy anymore.
Felicity stared at it a second too long.
She could almost hear it. Kids shrieking as they raced down it, some laughing, some screaming the fun kind, some the scared kind. She wondered who'd waited at the bottom, arms open, pretending they might miss the catch just to make it more exciting.
She shook herself. Focus.
Around her, the men worked through the lunch hour like they always did, each beastman settling into his role. Finch strung tripwires between broken benches using old guitar strings, humming off-key to himself. Giddy cleared sightlines with prodigious kicks, sending debris flying with cheerful enthusiasm and zero regard for structural integrity.
Voss snapped the neck of a zombie with one hand, barely slowing his stride, then turned with blood still on his mouth and grinned directly at Felicity.
"See that?" he called, loud enough for everyone but aimed squarely at her. "That's how you handle a pest where I'm from."
Felicity blinked.
Oh, she realized.
He's showing off.
That was… nice. Probably. Victor didn't comment. He just wiped his blade clean and turned his attention back to her instead, expression unreadable in a way that somehow asked a question.
She didn't know how to answer it out loud.
Her magic fizzed in her chest, restless and bright, like soda shaken too hard. It wanted out. Wanted to do something useful. She bounced slightly on her heels before remembering she was supposed to be calm and grounded and responsible.
Okay. Don't explode.
Or explode. But in a helpful way.
She'd watched everyone all morning. Rose with her vines. Finch with his traps. Even Voss with his… neck snapping. If she wanted to prove she belonged, this was it.
Movement flickered near the monkey bars.
Smaller shapes. Quick. Low to the ground.
Oh no, she thought, horrified and fascinated. Zombie raccoons.
That feels unfair to raccoons.
She focused the way Rose had taught her. Picture the target. Hold it steady. Let the magic spool up from her belly instead of her chest or head, because apparently that mattered a lot.
The world slowed.
Sound stretched thin. The air hummed against her skin like she was a live wire. She licked her lips, suddenly aware of her hands. Okay okay okay. Please work. Please don't blow up the playground. Please don't trip.
Golden light flared from her palms, clean and precise.
Lightning arced outward, dazzling but controlled. The raccoon monsters shrieked as the charge hit them, bodies locking mid-leap, twitching and stunned. Victor was already moving, fire roaring as he finished them before they could recover.
Silence snapped back into place.
Every head turned.
Felicity froze. Oh no. Was that too much? Too little? Did I steal someone's thing?
Voss barked out a sharp laugh, delighted. "See?" he said, pointing at her like she'd just won a prize. "That's what I'm talking about. The fox has teeth."
Her ears burned.
Victor stepped close, pride quieter but stronger than anything Voss broadcast. He cupped the back of her neck, massaging warmth into her skin, grounding her before the adrenaline could spike again.
"Nice slow and stun, Fel," he said softly.
Her chest did a happy little flip.
He used my nickname.
Rose whistled, impressed despite herself. Even Giddy paused mid-destruction, tail flicking with something suspiciously like respect.
Felicity smiled, bright and unguarded.
Everyone's nice, she thought, relieved.
She missed the way several of them subtly rearranged their understanding of her place in the world.
The rest of the afternoon blurred into motion. Felicity stayed close to the team, rules stacking up faster than she could sort them.
Never ignore the perimeter.
Never approach a sleeping male from behind unless you wanted your throat ripped out.
Never stand between two males measuring each other unless you wanted to become the problem.
And always, always accept praise with downcast eyes and visible humility.
That one confused her the most.
Victor moved like a force of nature, sweeping his hand through the air as weapons and supplies vanished into his personal space. To Felicity, it looked effortless. To everyone else, it was a reminder.
Snow Team numbered ten. Eleven if you counted Giddy, who stuck close to Rose and made no effort to hide it.
They watched Felicity.
Not constantly. Not openly. But often enough that she felt it, like standing too close to a fire.
I think I did something wrong, she thought immediately. Was the lightning rude? Did I smile too much again?
As they regrouped, Victor stepped close without breaking stride. Two fingers tipped her face up and he pressed a brief kiss to her forehead.
Casual.
Unshowy.
Grounding.
Her thoughts short-circuited.
"Oh," she said softly.
Why did that help so much?
A few minutes later, Voss drifted close from the opposite side. Loomed. Then reached out and patted her head.
She startled. "Sorry," he rumbled, unapologetic. "Good work."
She smiled up at him, immediate and sincere. "Thank you."
Victor's hand tightened slightly at her back.
Voss withdrew his hand.
Then, five minutes later, tried again.
Rose saw it. Said nothing. Filed it away.
When the adrenaline finally ebbed, Felicity's thoughts spilled out all at once.
"Oh my god, I'm sorry," she blurted, spinning toward Victor. "I didn't mean to mess up the formation earlier and I think I shocked Finch a little and I really didn't mean to and Rose looked at me like I kicked her favorite knife—"
"Fel," Victor said calmly.
She froze.
"You did fine," he continued. "You followed instruction. You didn't freeze. You didn't overextend."
"But I interrupted—"
"That look," he said evenly, "means you impressed her."
She blinked. "It does?"
"Yes."
"Oh."
Voss patted her head again. Slower. Thoughtful. "Strong fox."
Victor shot him a look.
Rose finally turned. "Fox," she said. "You're going to get yourself killed if you keep assuming everything is your fault."
"I just don't want anyone mad at me."
Rose sighed. "Yeah. That's what worries me."
She glanced at Victor's hand at Felicity's back. At Voss hovering nearby. "You trust fast," Rose continued. "You apologize first. That's sweet. It's also dangerous."
Felicity nodded solemnly, processing.
Voss reached out, then stopped himself mid-pat, hands flexing at his sides like he'd been denied a reflex.
Victor leaned down and pressed another brief kiss to Felicity's hairline.
Clear line. Quiet claim.
"Stay close," Rose said. "To him. And to me."
They moved on.
Felicity walked between Victor and Voss, cheeks warm, heart full, entirely unaware that half the team had already decided she was something precious and breakable and theirs to guard.
Rose glanced back once, jaw tight.
She really thinks the world is kind, Rose thought.
And that, more than the lightning or the magic or the way men kept touching her like they were afraid she might vanish, was what made Felicity dangerous.
And worth protecting.