The road through the city was hell, made of glass shards and the bones of the unlucky. Rutting through side streets choked with ferns and garbage, they walked single file, Rose up front with her blade drawn, then Felicity, then Victor and Finch flanking the rear. Somewhere above, a hawk spiraled, making lazy predatory loops. Always at the edge of vision, always keeping watch. A few blocks from the playground, the world changed again.
The city's silence thinned, stretched tight like skin over a wound. Felicity's ears pricked, catching the muted rhythm of boots on tile, the scrape and clatter of careful movement. Victor signaled, two fingers at his lips, and they melted into the shadow of a strip mall, eyes scanning skylines and broken rooftops.
Rose knelt, peering through the shattered window of a decrepit bakery. "There," she whispered, pointing at a flicker of movement in the alley across the street.
They waited.
Felicity held her breath, hand tight around the hilt of her little stolen knife. Victor pressed close behind her, close enough that she could feel his pulse through the back of her jacket. It was steady. Controlled. That helped, a little.
A group materialized out of the gloom, men, all of them, maybe eight or ten. Each bristled with animal parts: antlers, tusks, horns, claws, patchwork pelts and tails. In another life they could have been a rugby club out posturing for a bucks night, but here they moved with the silent precision of predators who knew exactly where they were going.
Some wore military gear, torn and blood stained, hands wrapped in tape and dirt. All were armed: blades, bats, clubs, the occasional handgun. They fanned out with unsettling ease, two climbing to the awning above with rifles ready, the rest flanking doors and windows like they'd rehearsed this a hundred times. Felicity's heart hammered as she realised they had pinpointed their location. Flanked. Nearly surrounded.
If Victor hadn't seen them first, if Victor wasn't, well, Victor, they would have been wiped out in seconds. The leader was the biggest of the bunch, a slab of muscle with crooked wolf ears and a jaw so square you could have cut cheese with it. He wore an old ANZAC vest bristling with pins and medals that clinked softly as he moved. His eyes were small, bright, and mean.
He smirked at Victor and called, his voice loud enough to carry across the street, "Come out, Silver. We brought breakfast." Victor didn't hesitate. He stepped into the light, chin up, body loose but ready. "You fuckers are early," he said.
That broke the tension.
The big man, Voss, laughed and stalked forward, but his eyes didn't stay on Victor. They slid past him, flicking again and again toward Felicity. Several of the others followed his lead, quick glances at first, then longer ones they didn't bother hiding. Like they were counting her. Measuring. Memorizing. One of them, a rangy thing with antlers shaved short at the base, stared outright until Victor shifted, just a fraction, and the man looked away.
Voss's gaze finally snagged on Rose. It lingered. Not hungry. Not leering. Curious, almost respectful, the way a hunter studies something that might turn around and kill him "Didn't figure you'd show up with ladies," Voss said at last. "Thought we'd have to drag you out of your hiding spot sooner or later."
Victor shrugged, the movement so casual it made Felicity's head spin. "You know how it is. Sometimes the best finds land in your lap." Still, he moved, placing his massive frame squarely between Felicity and Snow Team's line of sight. His broad shoulders cast her in shadow. A low, rumbling growl vibrated in his chest, not loud enough to draw attention, but deep enough that every man close enough to hear it went still.
The message landed. The men pressed closer anyway. A few couldn't help themselves, throwing sidelong glances at Felicity whenever they thought Victor wasn't watching. For some, it was hunger. For others, calculation. Like she was a problem they hadn't solved yet.
One small possum type at the back muttered, "Jesus. Real ones," his eyes never leaving her, before his buddy elbowed him hard.
Rose sneered, her tail a crimson banner at her hip. "What's the deal?" she said. "You boys never see a woman before?" Rhys grinned wide, but his eyes kept darting back to Felicity.
"Not ones that made it past the first few days. You're the rarest thing in the world now." He whistled low. "Hell, I'd pay just to shake your hand." Felicity tensed, instinct screaming at her to shrink, to vanish. She pressed her face against Victor's back. His arm came down, firm and deliberate, caging her in. A promise made without words.
No one laid a finger on her without going through him. Introductions were brief. Ugly.
Victor's old mates, Snow Team, were ex military, most of them dishonorably discharged even before society went feral. In the new world, they'd been gathering power, learning how to push the limits of their animal selves. Mutations, Victor called them.
And every one of the men had at least one parlor trick that would have landed them in a lab in the old days.
Finch's hunger vanished the moment he noticed the hulking rhino man staring at Rose. His Rose. Well, not officially his yet, but still.
The beastman's leathery grey skin rippled as he turned toward Finch, a metal nose stud glinting in the low light. "Name's Tommy," he snorted with a smirk.
Tommy's small eyes flicked between Finch and Rose as silver particles danced lazily between his massive fingers. He sneered, clearly amused by Finch's lean frame.
"You think you can protect Rose with those twigs you call arms?" Tommy said. "Let's see if you can even handle me first."
Finch's jaw tightened. He didn't argue. Just nodded once and followed the metal mage as the rhino man rumbled with satisfaction, already convinced he'd found easy prey.
That left Felicity, Rose, Victor, and the rest of the group.
Voss circled them slowly, the wolf in him more obvious up close. When he leaned in, Felicity caught the scars at his temples where old wounds had healed wrong, and the black line of a tattoo disappearing behind his left ear.
"So," Voss said, eyes locking onto Felicity, "this little fox yours?" Victor's response was immediate. A flat, dangerous growl. "She's mine." Voss paused, then nodded. Respect, maybe. Or concession.
"She's pretty, Silver," he said. "Wouldn't blame you if you wanted to keep her in your pocket forever. But you know she's gonna be famous. Everyone out there's looking for girls like her." He inhaled sharply. His nostrils flared, pupils expanding until his eyes were almost black. "She carries the scent of flowers and warmth," he growled, glancing at the others. "Remember this. With females so scarce, one to every hundred men, we either learn to share protection… or we lose them entirely."
Felicity stepped forward despite herself.
"What do you mean by that?" she asked. "Women and men are equal in numbers."
Her voice faltered at the end, confusion creeping in.
Voss shook his head slowly. "I'm afraid you're mistaken." His gaze lingered on her face, assessing, measuring. "Most women perished during those first chaotic hours," he said. "Or met fates worse than death. A female survivor like you is exceedingly rare now." His eyes flicked over her ears, her tail, the way Victor subtly shifted closer.
"Especially one with your… attributes."