Felicity's Beast World Apocalypse-Chapter 62: For Weeks

Not chanting. ...Praying. Felicity froze.

"...Is that about me?" she asked, mortified.

Ash and Pope stood near the far wall. Ash had spray paint in his hand. Pope had his palms pressed together like this was the most normal thing in the world.

Ash was reading aloud.

"’We walk in the shadow so the Light may walk free,’" he recited, gesturing at the wall where thick white letters were already drying. "’We do not demand her warmth. We earn it through kindness.’"

Pope nodded solemnly. "And also restraint."

Victor muttered, "I’m not restraining shit."

Felicity’s ears burned. "Ash," she hissed. "Pope. What are you doing."

Ash turned, delighted. "Documenting miracles."

Pope inclined his head. "Establishing doctrine."

Sarge made a strangled sound. "You cannot be serious."

"I am always serious," Pope said calmly. "This is the Church of the Light."

Felicity covered her face. "Oh my god."

Voss looked between the wall and Felicity. "It’s catchy," he offered, unhelpfully.

She peeked through her fingers. "Is this... real? Like. An actual thing."

Ash shrugged. "People need structure. And hope. And frankly you’ve got better vibes than most end of days belief systems."

Pope smiled gently at her. "Pilgrims will come."

She squeaked. Actually squeaked.

"No," she said, flustered. "No pilgrimages. No kneeling. No" She stopped, took a breath, then sighed. "Okay. If you’re going to do this... just—" She dropped her hands, expression earnest. "Spread kindness. Help people. Be gentle. Even when they’re mean."

Victor and Voss spoke at the same time.

"No."

Damien snorted.

Felicity glanced back at them. "I said what I said."

Victor exhaled through his nose. "We’ll be kind. Strategically."

"Conditional kindness," Voss added.

She accepted that with a small nod. The moment passed, the tension easing back into something manageable. Snow Team shifted, reorienting.

Kai tilted his head suddenly. "You ever wonder what actually caused the zombies."

Sarge snorted. "Oh here we go."

"No, I’m serious," Kai pressed. "It’s not just rot. It’s not just infection. There’s structure. Progression. Levels. Something broke physics."

Tommy perked up. "Could be like... brain parasites. Or cosmic radiation. Or the moon."

Ivan, who had been quietly watching from the edge of the group, shook his head slowly. "You’ll drive yourself insane chasing that."

Felicity thought about it. About Byron. About hunger that thought.

"Do you want to know?" she asked softly.

Kai hesitated.

Then Voss laughed, sharp and easy. "Nah."

Everyone looked at him. He shrugged. "Let someone else write the thesis. We’ll just kill what needs killing and keep moving."

Tommy pumped a fist. "Finally. A plan I understand."

Victor squeezed Felicity’s shoulder once. "We save who we can. We protect what matters."

She leaned back into him again, marble cool now in her palm, Outside, the city waited. Inside, Snow Team regrouped.

And for once, Felicity didn’t feel like the fragile part of the equation.

She felt like the reason it held together.

It scared her a little.

Not the responsibility. Not the danger. Not even the fact that grown, battle hardened men had started writing scripture about her on concrete walls, It was the softness, The way the world bent around her without asking for anything in return.

She had spent most of her life bracing. Bracing for disappointment. For being too much. For not being enough. For being useful only when she was convenient.

But here?

Here she was inconvenient.

She was fragile. She was emotional. She asked for fires and marshmallows in a dead city full of rot.

And they built it anyway.

Victor did not sigh about wasted resources.

Voss did not roll his eyes.

Damien did not question the logic.

They just moved, Because she had asked.

Her throat tightened unexpectedly.

Ivan noticed first. He always noticed the quiet shifts. His gaze flicked to her face, then away again, respectful. Not calling attention. Just marking it.

Pope, from across the room, pressed a hand to his chest like he could physically feel the atmosphere changing.

"See," he murmured, almost to himself. "Miracles."

Felicity shot him a warning look.

He coughed. "Figurative miracle."

Ash added one last swipe of paint to the wall, stepped back, and admired his work like it belonged in a museum instead of an abandoned pharmacy.

Snow Team did not orbit her because they worshipped her, They orbited her because she was the point where their lines intersected, Their reason to choose gentleness when violence would be easier.

Their reason to keep building instead of just surviving.

It wasn’t sainthood.

It was gravity.

And for the first time since the world ended, she didn’t feel like she was being carried, She felt like she was choosing to stay.

They never let her drift.

Felicity noticed it most when she wasn’t looking. When she laughed too hard and forgot to breathe properly, there was a hand at her back. When she went quiet, someone shifted closer. When she ate, food appeared. When she drank, the cup was already there. When she stood still too long, Victor’s shadow lined up behind her without thought, or Voss leaned close enough that she could feel the heat of him through her sleeve, or Damien paced the edge of her space like a moon held by gravity.

It wasn’t suffocating. It was constant. Like a net you didn’t feel until you tripped.

She leaned back against Victor now without asking, settling between him and Voss on a cracked concrete divider while the camp finished settling for the night. Victor adjusted instantly, stance widening, wings shifting just enough to block the wind. Voss crouched and handed her something without a word.

A marshmallow.

She blinked. Looked at it. Looked up at him.

He grinned. "Thought you might need that."

Her chest warmed. "I didn’t even say anything."

"You breathed different," Damien said mildly from behind them.

She stared. "...That’s terrifying."

"It’s love," Voss corrected.

She snorted. The idea had come to her suddenly. Not strategic. Not tactical. Just tired. Everyone was tired. Too much death. Too much pressure. Too many almost losses stacked back to back.

"We need a morale boost," she’d said earlier, quiet but certain.

Victor hadn’t questioned it. He’d just nodded and delegated.

Now there was a fire.

A real one. Controlled. Safe. Warm enough to glow without threatening to burn the car park down. Someone had scavenged skewers. Someone else had produced a suspicious amount of candy. Marshmallows were roasting. Chocolate was being hoarded. Laughter was starting to leak back into places it hadn’t lived for days.

Felicity smiled, small and pleased.

She roasted her marshmallow carefully, tail flicking with concentration. Voss watched her like this was the most important operation of the evening. Victor watched him watch her, amused and alert in equal measure.

Ash cleared his throat dramatically. "Alright. Impression night. I’ll start."

He straightened, puffed out his chest, dropped his voice an octave. "I am Victor. I brood. I glower. I stand directly behind Felicity at all times like a very hot gargoyle."

Victor didn’t even flinch. "Accurate."

Laughter burst out around the fire.

Ash wasn’t done. He turned sharply, shoulders squared. "I am Voss. I solve problems with violence and head pats."

Voss reached out and patted Felicity’s head immediately, unapologetic.

She laughed so hard her marshmallow caught fire.

"HEY," she yelped, fumbling. Victor calmly took the skewer, blew it out, and handed it back like this happened daily.

"See," Ash said smugly. "This is what I’m talking about."

Even Damien cracked a smile.

Someone mimicked Tommy next, wildly flinging imaginary water and yelling, "I DID A THING," which sent Tommy into loud, proud applause.

Then one of the horse brothers laughed. Loud. Deep. Familiar.

Sarge frowned.

He stared at them. One. Two. Three.

"...Hang on," he said slowly. "What are your names."

Silence fell, The fire popped.

The horse brothers looked at each other.

"...Huh," one of them said.

Felicity blinked. "Wait. What?"

Another scratched his neck. "I mean. We’ve been meaning to introduce ourselves."

Ash stared. "You have been with us for weeks. Months?"

Victor folded his arms. "I assumed you were all named Horse."

Voss nodded. "Same."

The third brother frowned. "That feels disrespectful."

"Then say your names," Sarge snapped.

A beat.

"...Colt," said the first.

"...Rowan," said the second.

"...Jasper," said the third.

The camp exploded.

"You could’ve said that ANY TIME," Kai shouted.

Felicity laughed until her sides hurt, tears streaking her cheeks as Victor steadied her without comment, arm firm around her middle.

When the laughter finally settled, when sugar and warmth softened the edges of the day, Felicity realized something gentle and important.

They were watching her again, Not hungry. Not assessing.

Just waiting.

She inhaled. Let it out. 𝕗𝗿𝕖𝐞𝐰𝗲𝕓𝐧𝕠𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝐨𝚖

"Hey," she said softly. "Thank you. For tonight."

Victor dipped his head. "You asked."

She leaned back into him again, content, marshmallow forgotten.

Later, when the fire burned low and people drifted toward sleep, the noise softened into embers and murmurs. The sugar high faded. The jokes thinned. One by one, Snow Team folded into their bedrolls or watch posts, settling into the quiet rhythm of guarded rest.

Felicity lingered by the dying fire.

Victor’s hand rested warm at her waist. Damien was already half shadow again, pacing perimeter patterns only he understood. Ivan had disappeared into stillness somewhere elevated. Safe.

But Voss hadn’t moved, He was watching her.

Just her.

The glow from the embers caught in his eyes, burnished gold and wolf sharp. There was something steady there. Patient. Like he had already decided something and was waiting for the world to catch up, She felt it low in her stomach.

Recognition.

Victor noticed the shift first. His fingers flexed once at her hip. Not possessive. Not questioning.

Aware.

Felicity glanced back at him. A silent check in.

He held her gaze for a second, searching, then gave the smallest nod.

Go.

Her pulse kicked.

Voss finally moved, Slow. Unhurried. The kind of walk that never needed to chase anything because it always caught what it wanted, He stopped in front of her. Close enough that she could feel his warmth through the thin fabric at her arms. Close enough that the night air didn’t slip between them.

He didn’t touch her.

That almost made it worse.

"Come on," he said quietly.

An invitation.

Her breath caught.

"Where?" she asked, softer than she meant to.

His mouth curved, faint. Dangerous in its restraint "Your space."

The words settled between them, heavier than they should have been.

Felicity swallowed.

Then she stepped forward.

Voss turned, and she followed.