The five figures on the ridge did not move for a long time.
They stood cut against the dying light, carved into the horizon itself. Wind pulled at coats and loose hair. They watched Snow Team with the same hard caution Snow Team watched them. The town behind Felicity still smelled of cooling blood and broken glass. The shrine Pope and Ash had stacked near the ruined café caught the last smear of sun. The small scrap of paper promising the vineyard lay weighted beneath a stone.
Victor did not step forward first.
He waited.
The red of Felicity's dress held the light, and the soft fabric brushed her knees in the breeze. She could feel every eye on her, including the five at the ridge.
"Stay," Victor warned, voice low for only her and her husbands.
"I'm not charging up there," she shot back in a whisper.
Damien's tail brushed lightly against the back of her thigh, grounding Felicity and anchoring her in place.
Voss's gaze never left the ridge.
