His words hung in the air, a toxic cloud that seemed to seep into the very fabric of the night. The tension was palpable, a tangible force that seemed to press down on Felicity, making it hard for her to breathe. She could almost taste the bitterness in Richard’s words, feel the heat of Dimitri’s anger, and it left a sour taste in her mouth.

Felicity felt tears prick her eyes. She’d thought Richard was just gruff, maybe even jealous. She hadn’t realised how deep his hatred ran.

Exile’s hand found hers, squeezing gently. "Some minds cannot be changed, little fox. They must be... removed."

The sounds from the bushes intensified, with more punches, kicks, and finally, a terrible silence.

Victor returned to Felicity’s side, his expression unreadable. "It’s done," he said simply.

"Did you..." she couldn’t finish the question.

"He won’t trouble us again," Victor said, his voice softening as he saw the distress in her eyes. "But we didn’t kill him."

The lie was obvious, but Felicity appreciated the attempt to spare her feelings. She nodded, knowing that sometimes survival required difficult choices.

Exile’s coils loosened slightly as he sensed her acceptance. "The road ahead is long," he whispered. "But we’ll face it together."

Felicity leaned into Exile’s cool scales, exhaustion washing over her in waves. The emotional toll of Richard’s betrayal and the confrontation had drained her completely. She allowed herself to sink deeper into his embrace, her eyes growing heavy as the rhythmic movement of his body lulled her toward sleep.

"Rest," Exile whispered, his voice a gentle vibration against her cheek. "I’ve got you."

The world faded around her as she surrendered to sleep, her hand resting protectively over her rounded belly. Exile’s coils adjusted, creating a perfect cradle for her weary body. The last thing she felt was the soft brush of his scaled hand against her forehead.

When she awoke, the landscape had changed dramatically. They stood before massive steel-framed walls that stretched at least a hundred feet into the sky, encircling what must be Bowral. The structure was imposing, a testament to human ingenuity in a world gone mad. Guards patrolled the top of the wall, while below, a contingent of uniformed tiger beastmen stood at attention.

"Halt!" The command rang out, sharp and authoritative.

Felicity stirred but didn’t fully wake, her body too heavy with sleep to respond to the noise. She nestled deeper into Exile’s embrace, feeling his gentle hiss rumble through his chest.

Victor stepped forward, his white wings folded neatly behind him. "My family and I," he said, gesturing to Felicity, still sleeping in Exile’s arms, her pregnancy evident, "and our team and... friends," he added, indicating Alice, her two husbands, and Tim, "want to settle here."

The tiger guards exchanged glances, suspicion evident in their golden eyes. But when they spotted the two females in the group, one clearly pregnant, their demeanour shifted.

One guard’s gaze lingered on Felicity, her blonde hair catching the light, her sleeping face serene and almost otherworldly. He seemed momentarily transfixed before Voss’s low growl brought him back to the present.

"Yes, because you are travelling with females, you can settle here," the guard said, regaining his composure. "But you will be on a trial basis for the first two weeks to see if you fit here. And what are your levels?"

"We are all minimum 95 and maximum 100," Victor replied coolly.

The guards’ eyes widened. High-level individuals were rare in these parts, and a group of them together was practically unheard of.

"And the women?" the guard asked, nodding toward Felicity and Alice.

"Our wife is level 90," Voss replied, his voice measured. "And the rag doll? No idea."

Felicity stirred at the mention of her level, her eyes fluttering open to find herself surrounded by new faces and towering walls. She blinked away the remnants of sleep, taking in their new surroundings with a mixture of curiosity and caution.

"Welcome to Bowral," said the tiger guard, his voice softening as he addressed her directly. "You’ll find it’s one of the safer settlements in this part of the wasteland." His eyes lingered on her, not in hunger or aggression, but with a kind of hungry hope, as if her presence alone might heal something broken in the world.

Exile unwound himself just enough to let her stand. She drew in a deep breath, steadying herself with the sensation of earth under her feet. "Thank you," she said softly, her voice rough from sleep but clear. "We’re grateful for the chance."

Voss, always alert to the shifting currents of power, stepped forward and pressed his palm lightly to the small of her back. "We intend to contribute," he said, voice carrying to the parapets overhead. "We’ll follow your laws. Our pack knows discipline."

The guards conferred in hurried, guttural whispers, their tails lashing in agitation. For a moment, Felicity thought they might be turned away after all, too alien, too unpredictable, too volatile for even the desperate society within these walls. But then the decision was made; a heavy gate creaked open, its gears shrieking, and the tiger beastmen gestured for them to proceed.

They stepped through the gates together, the outer world falling away behind them. The interior of Bowral was unlike anything Felicity had imagined. Wide streets spiralled outward from a central square, lined with low-slung homes cobbled together from salvaged metal, driftwood, and fabric banners.

Bazaars thrummed with a cautious life, vendors hawking tattered clothing, dried meat, and bright, poisonous-looking fruit. cubs, half-human or full beast, darting between stalls, shrieking with laughter at each other. A constant hum of conversation and barter underscored every step, punctuated by the distant clang of blacksmiths and the sweet, incongruous piping of a flute.

But above all, there was the presence of women. Felicity had seen so few, and though the ratio here was still absurdly skewed, the women she did spot were treated with a fierce, almost religious devotion. Beastmen parted in the streets to let them pass, eyes lowered, hands pressed to chests in a gesture of respect.

Some wore dresses, others flowing robes or normal modern clothing, but all carried themselves with the certainty that they were cherished. When the crowd caught sight of Felicity, the effect was electric: a ripple of whispers, a collective exhale, and suddenly everyone was staring, even those who had been feigning indifference.

Alice, who had awoken somewhere along the route, clung to her husband’s arms, her expression flickering between fear and awe.