The copper tub steamed gently in the clearing, mountain herbs ghosting the air and making everyone painfully aware of how long it had been since clean meant anything more than rinsed blood away.
Rose eyed it like a challenge. Felicity stared at it like it might disappear if she blinked. The metal magic users stepped back first, hands lifted, very pointedly not looking. The water wielders followed suit, ears pink, faces carefully blank. Someone coughed and announced they were going to check their weapons. No one volunteered to leave. Victor cleared his throat. That solved it.
He took position at one end of the clearing, back turned, arms crossed. Voss mirrored him at the opposite end, posture loose but unmistakably alert. Finch planted himself dead center at the perimeter, arms folded, tail flicking irritably at anyone who lingered too long. Rose stripped without ceremony, unbothered, unapologetic.
Felicity hesitated, then followed, cheeks burning, ears pinned flat as she slid into the steaming water with a soft, startled sound. Rose sank in beside her, sighing in relief.
"Worth it," Rose muttered. The water lapped at Felicity's shoulders, warmth seeping into sore muscles she hadn't even realized were clenched. She relaxed despite herself.
From the corner of her eye, she saw shadows shift. Heard a breath hitch. Rose noticed too. She smiled faintly, sharp and satisfied.
"Eyes front," she called lazily. "Or I start naming names." Several men abruptly found the dirt fascinating. Victor didn't move. Voss didn't either. Both of them heard Felicity's soft sigh and felt it like a test of restraint.
Later, while Felicity dressed and the tub cooled, Rose drifted over to where Victor leaned against a stone pillar, arms crossed, eyes distant. "You're letting him get close," she said casually. Victor didn't look at her. "I'm watching him."
Rose snorted. "You always are. Doesn't mean you like it." His jaw tightened.
She tilted her head, studying him. "You don't have to like it," she added. "You just have to decide if you trust her." That earned her a glance. Rose smirked. "Yeah. Thought so."
Across the hall, Voss watched the exchange with lazy interest, amber eyes flicking briefly to Felicity before meeting Victor's gaze. He didn't smile. He didn't need to.
They gathered again before dusk, weapons laid out, wounds still fresh from the morning sweep. Someone was bleeding through a bandage. Another nursed a cracked rib, jaw clenched against the pain. Victor turned to Felicity. "Show them," he said gently. Her stomach fluttered.
She stepped forward, hands trembling only slightly, and laid them over the injured man's shoulder. Warmth bloomed beneath her palms, spreading outward in soft, steady waves. The ache eased first. Then the bleeding slowed. Then stopped entirely.
The man sucked in a sharp breath. Rolled his shoulder. "No pain," he said, stunned. "None." A ripple moved through the room. Another stepped forward. Then another.
Felicity's magic came easier each time, threading through muscle and bone, sinking deep, reinforcing instead of just repairing. She felt it take hold like roots finding soil. When she pushed a little further, the effect changed. Strength surged.
The next man tested his grip, eyes widening as his weapon suddenly felt lighter. Someone laughed in disbelief as they moved, faster than they should have been. Reflexes sharpened. Balance improved. A cracked shield rang once, then settled, reinforced, tougher than before. Victor watched closely. "How long?" he asked. Felicity swallowed, concentrating. "A few minutes," she said. "Maybe five. And… it feels like about half again as strong. Attacks, defense. Speed too." Silence. Then someone whispered, "Fifty percent."
Snow Team straightened as one. Stronger. Faster. Sharper. Not imagined. Measurable. Someone let out a breathless laugh. "Holy hell." Victor's voice cut through it, calm and firm. "That's why she matters."
The room shifted. This time, not hunger. Something quieter. Heavier. Respect. And beneath it, something else began to take shape. No one said it out loud.
But eyes lowered when Felicity looked their way. Weapons were adjusted with care. A few men touched the floor unconsciously, knuckles brushing stone like a grounding gesture. Someone murmured a phrase under their breath, half joke, half instinct: keep her safe. It spread fast. Not worship. Not openly. A rule. A belief. A thing you didn't say where outsiders could hear. Protect the fox. Listen when she speaks. Never bring harm where her magic stands. Snow Team didn't need sermons.
They needed structure. And Felicity had just become it. Voss moved closer, slower than before, stopping just short of her space. His eyes searched her face, not greedy now, but intent.
"Does it hurt?" he asked quietly. She shook her head. "No."
He nodded once. Approval. Acceptance.
"Good."
Victor tracked every inch of distance between them, every breath, every shift of weight.
But when Felicity smiled small, proud, exhausted He didn't step in. Because this wasn't about jealousy. It was about survival. And somewhere between the healing and the strength and the way Snow Team instinctively rearranged themselves around her, something unspoken settled into place. Felicity wasn't just something to protect anymore. She was something they would believe in. Quietly. Fiercely. And without ever letting the outside world know why.
Voss lingered after the others stepped back.
Not looming. Not crowding.
Just… there.
Felicity was still catching her breath, hands warm and faintly tingling, shoulders slumped with the pleasant exhaustion that came after pushing her magic too far. She looked up when his shadow fell across her.
He hesitated. Just for a second. Then, with surprising care, he reached out and rested his hand on the top of her head.
A gentle pat. Once.
Then again, slower this time.
"Good fox," he rumbled, voice low and almost reverent.
Felicity froze. Her ears flicked in reflex, then flattened in startled embarrassment. Heat rushed to her cheeks as she stared at him, unsure what to do with the sudden, affectionate contact.
Victor went very still.
So did half the room. Voss barely noticed. His palm fit easily over her head, fingers brushing soft hair and the delicate base of her ears. She was small. Smaller than he'd realized. Light in a way that made something old and instinctive settle into his chest. He'd fought beside giants. Killed things twice his size. And yet this this tiny, exhausted fox standing there with trust still in her eyes felt heavier than any oath he'd ever taken.
So small, he thought. So breakable. And he was so big.
The contrast felt… right. Protecting her felt right. He didn't press. Didn't claim. He gave her head one last soft pat, thumb brushing briefly through her hair, then withdrew his hand like he'd completed a quiet vow rather than crossed a line.
"You did well," he added simply.
Felicity blinked, then smiled small, tired, and pleased in a way she didn't quite know how to hide. "Thank you," she said.
Voss nodded once, satisfied.
Around them, Snow Team exchanged looks. No one laughed. No one commented.
Because somehow, impossibly, it hadn't felt strange.
It had felt… correct. Victor exhaled slowly, tension easing only a fraction. He didn't stop Voss. Didn't correct him.
He just shifted closer to Felicity, broad presence at her back, a silent reminder of where she stood. And if Voss's tail flicked once in quiet approval as he turned away No one mentioned that either.