The copper tub steamed gently in the clearing, mountain herbs ghosting through the air and making everyone painfully aware of how long it had been since clean meant anything more than rinsing blood away and calling it a win.
Snow Team noticed immediately.
Not the tub.
Not the steam.
Her.
Felicity stood just outside the circle of warmth, hands clasped in front of her, tail swaying faintly like it didn't know what to do with itself. Clean clothes hung loose on her frame, too big, sleeves slipping over her knuckles. She looked soft. Breakable. Like the apocalypse had somehow missed her entirely.
Someone swallowed.
Someone else shifted their stance.
One man thought, very clearly, if she slips, I will catch her, and then had to stare at the dirt until the thought went away.
Rose eyed the tub like a challenge.
Felicity stared at it like it might disappear if she blinked.
The metal magic users were the first to step back, hands lifting instinctively, eyes snapping anywhere but the tub. The water wielders followed, ears pink, faces carefully blank. Someone cleared their throat and announced they were checking their weapons. Another decided inventory was suddenly urgent.
No one actually left.
Victor cleared his throat once.
That solved it.
He took position at one end of the clearing, back turned, arms crossed, stance wide and immovable. Not guarding the tub.
Guarding her.
Voss mirrored him at the opposite end, posture loose but unmistakably alert, weight balanced like he could move in any direction without warning. Finch planted himself dead center along the perimeter, arms folded, tail flicking irritably at anyone who lingered too long.
Rose stripped without ceremony.
No hesitation. No self-consciousness.
She stepped into the tub like it was hers by right.
Felicity hesitated.
Just a breath.
Victor didn't turn, but his presence shifted. A subtle tightening. A quiet readiness. She felt it anyway.
Then she followed, cheeks burning, ears pinned flat as she slid into the steaming water with a soft, startled sound that sent a ripple of restrained suffering through the clearing.
Someone thought, focus.
Someone else thought, I will die like this.
Someone prayed.
Rose sank beside her with a sigh.
"Worth it," she muttered.
The water lapped at Felicity's shoulders, warmth sinking into muscles she hadn't realized were locked tight. Her breath hitched once, then eased out in a long, shaky exhale.
Victor closed his eyes.
Just for a second.
Rose noticed the shadow shifts. The breaths that came a little too sharp. The way several men abruptly discovered religion.
She smiled faintly, sharp and satisfied. "Eyes front," she called lazily. "Or I start naming names."
Chaos.
Dirt became fascinating. Boots became urgent. One man adjusted his weapon three times without changing anything. Victor didn't move. Voss didn't either.
Both of them heard Felicity's soft sigh and felt it like restraint made physical.
Later, while Felicity dressed and the tub cooled, Rose drifted toward 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 trust her."
That earned her a glance.
Rose smirked. "Yeah. Thought so."
Across the clearing, Voss watched with lazy interest, amber eyes flicking briefly to Felicity before meeting Victor's gaze.
No challenge.
No apology.
Just acknowledgment.
They gathered again before dusk.
Weapons laid out. Wounds fresh. One man bleeding slowly through a bandage. Another nursing a cracked rib. Victor turned to Felicity.
"Show them," he said gently.
Snow Team collectively braced.
She stepped forward, hands trembling only slightly, and laid them over the injured man's shoulder. Warmth bloomed beneath her palms. Pain faded. Blood slowed. Then stopped.
The man sucked in a breath. Rolled his shoulder.
"No pain," he said, stunned.
A ripple.
Another stepped forward. Then another.
Her magic threaded deeper this time. Not just repairing, but reinforcing. Strength surged. Reflexes sharpened. Weapons felt lighter. Bodies steadier.
Someone laughed, breathless.
Someone else whispered, "Holy hell."
Victor's voice cut through it.
"That's why she matters."
The shift was immediate.
Not hunger.
Respect.
Eyes lowered when Felicity glanced their way. Weapons adjusted with care. A few men touched the ground unconsciously, knuckles brushing stone like grounding.
Someone murmured, half instinct, half rule, "Protect the fox."
It spread.
Not worship.
Structure.
Voss moved closer, stopping just short of her space.
"Does it hurt?" he asked.
She shook her head. "No."
He nodded once.
"Good."
Victor watched every inch of space between them. But when Felicity smiled, tired and proud, he didn't step in.
Because this wasn't jealousy.
It was survival.
Voss lingered after the others stepped back.
He rested his hand on the top of her head.
Once.
Then again.
"Good fox," he rumbled.
Snow Team froze.
Victor did not move. Because it didn't feel wrong.
It felt… correct.
Voss withdrew his hand like a vow completed.
"You did well."
Felicity smiled, small and pleased.
"Thank you."
Victor stepped closer then, Not crowding.
Claiming space.
His hand rested at the small of her back, solid and unmistakable. Snow Team felt it lock into place like a rule written into bone.
She wasn't unguarded.
She wasn't unclaimed.
And Victor stood there, silent and immovable, knowing this was only the beginning.
Not of love.
Of war.