Lightning knew well of the weight of exhaustion. She'd known it ever since she first started to drift away from her more childlike pursuits; in those days when she spent following on after her mother and learning whatever she could about fixing things or delivering things, or even creating something from seemingly nothing. She began to learn the true limits of her physical capabilities, even if it meant more than a single night spent quite sleepless and terribly unsettled, taking on the many worries that she had once ignored in days long past.

Their room had been a rather simple one, with low cots for their beds and a sturdy lock at the door, for even a group home had its own share of security concerns. The three of them, Lightning, Serah and their mother, they would often lay awake for many hours at night, usually while their mother read aloud from one of the books that she'd checked out from the nearby library.

It truly began on a certain night, Lightning remembered, when she was wearing nothing but a loose shirt and rather baggy sweatpants, just in case a deep dream brought on yet another involuntary change; it was on that calm, yet restless night that she spoke to her mother in a way that she had never spoken before.

Serah had already drifted off into a steady slumber, all curled up and warm beneath the quilted blankets of her cot. Her ears occasionally twitched at the sounds of the voices around her, of both her sister and her mother, speaking upon the subject of why they were even in such a place to begin with.

Lightning had been sitting upright on the edge of her bed, even though every word she spoke made her just want to lay down and try to get some sleep. "But there was food in the woods, too; we could just go back there... Then we wouldn't have to work so much."

Her mother slowly placed one of the library books back down against her bedside table. "There's safety here, in a crowd." She glanced up at the ceiling, yet it almost looked as if she was staring at something else entirely. "Serah's been doing very well with those classes."

Lightning slumped down against her bed, looking up at the ceiling as well. "What's the point of them? We could just-"

There was the soft name that her mother suddenly spoke, a name lost to time itself, and after a moment of time, she spoke just a bit quieter than before. "An education is very important; you could both find a job someday, like your father and I used to have."

Lightning remembered closing her eyes so tightly, keeping very silent for a while, even when it became clear that Serah had started speaking out loud from her dreams, likely close to the tipping point of a change. The form of a lycan was still rather small in the body of a child, hardly much of a difference in size, but even still, their nightclothes had to be quite loose and easily fixed, just in case those primal dreams grew much too real, wandering their way out into the physical world.

When Lightning opened her eyes again, she could see that Serah was still dreaming away, speaking almost silently, but her face was so much different than before, so very soft and narrow, lupine and wild.

"My silly girls." Their mother had risen up from her bed in only a long nightgown, and she stepped over to sit down on the edge of Serah's cot, gently petting along the back of her head. "Just like puppies, now... But it won't be the same for long."

Lightning remembered how she felt such terrible knots twisting in her stomach at that kind of statement. Would they truly become like their mother, lycans of brute strength and ferocity? Even if there was that absolute bond of love between them, the trust of a bloodline, Lightning knew the great power her mother held, that massive being who once hunted the wilds for their food each and every day, traveling from place to place in search of safety, all up until they finally reached the little township on the edge of a big city itself, a place with a school for both of her children to attend.

"I want the two of you to have good opportunities." Her mother smiled at Serah, so soft and gentle, before she moved back over to her own bed again. "Your father, he had these dreams about where we'd all be in a dozen years... A better house, less troubles to worry about."

Lightning tried not to think of the night when they fled the first city, the very place she'd been born in, roaming off towards the more untamed places of Cocoon, to the lush forests and seemingly endless meadows. Was there really a better life to live within the human world?

"But we should really follow Serah's example and rest." Her mother slowly settled down against her own cot, reaching out to dim the light of the tiny lamp on the bedside table. "You must be sleepy after all of that work today."

Lightning just stared into the darkness with a million thoughts inside her head, questions that swarmed around like fluttering little insects, and she began to narrow her eyes. "I'm not sleepy."

A quiet laugh echoed out, so very low and gentle. "I suppose that's because you're young..."

"Light?"

She was drawn away from her thoughts in a mere instant, and Lightning glanced up from the last crate that she'd set down into place for the day, kneeling within one of the wide, massive warehouses with only Fang left to keep her company.

"Light? You okay?" Fang stepped forward, carefully examining the look on Lightning's face. "I think it's time to go."

Lightning nodded mutely, for she could feel that steady ache in her limbs, the gravity in her own eyelids, the will to just settle down and sleep, even if there were still things left to do before she went home.

"Everyone else headed out at the whistle." Fang began to walk down towards the front of the warehouse, past all of the crates and scattered forklifts that stood so silent again, for there was no one left to attend to them. "I think it was for us, too."

Lightning stood up to venture out as well, but her eyes were so still hazy and distant, lost within the bitter conundrum that had simply wedged itself in from the front doorstep, sinking right into the heart of everything she'd worked so tirelessly to create. It would be so simple just to suddenly agree, to just leave the city with Fang and Vanille, to find their way out into those forests and hills, to be wanderers as they once had been.

"Don't nod off on me, Light." Fang's voice brought her attention back from such thoughts. "If you have to doze on the bus again-"

"No." Lightning blinked at the sudden light of the distant sunset, at the orange and yellow hues upon the gentle ocean waves. "I shouldn't have done that, anyway."

"You were just napping." Fang stepped out along those many harbor stairways, leading the way back up towards the little outpost near the top of the hill. "It hardly ever happens in a nap."

"It's still a risk." Lightning began to listen to the way her shoes sounded so silent against the wooden stairwell, for the treads had been worn quite flat and smooth from so many miles of walking. "I'm tired, Fang... But we still need to get home."

Fang glanced up at the nearby office outpost, before she paused to let Lightning lead the way. "Do you take the bus back?"

"Yes." Lightning soon made her way up the stairs, towards the door that led into the main lobby. "I just need my things."

The lockers stood right beside a clipboard on the wall, one that was intended for signing in and out of work hours, and one of the office assistants had a desk in the back rooms where they would be paid for the day. It was all because of the fact that Lightning had chosen not to even reveal a fake name, nor her place of residence, which was a slightly less than lawful decision, yet it was one made out of mere necessity. She quickly signed herself out for the day on the clipboard, and then she unlocked the combination on her locker for her purse, before she gestured for Fang to sign out her employee number as well.

It was a simple exchange that happened next, just to walk right up to one of the back offices without a word, and then to be handed a plain little envelope along with a bit of documentation, a mere ruse in case any curious eyes were lurking around after work hours. And the feeling of real, physical currency in her hands, it brought a sudden rush of such relief, a sensation that made all of the bitter exhaustion feel so very well worth it in the end. Lightning almost smiled, looking away while Fang received her share as well.

It was a rather long walk away from the outpost, out along the harbor entrance, towards the lone bus stop that stood beside the road with a domed roof up above. Yet when she finally reached it, Lightning simply sat herself down upon the bench, sheltering the little envelope within the safety of her purse.

"Back home, then?" Fang soon sat down as well, and she began to look out over the street beside them, at all of the little shops that hadn't yet closed up for the evening, some of which had festive decorations in the windows and the muffled sounds of music from within. "Serah should be back by now, right?"

Lightning nodded. "She should, but I need to make a quick stop before I head back." A clear silence filled the salty ocean air, but it was only after a moment or two that Lightning spoke again. "I've been thinking about it, today."

Fang quirked a single eyebrow, still gazing out over the many soft city lights, at all of the storefronts and the streetlamps. "About..?"

"You know what." Lightning kept her voice low, yet gentle. "And I won't lie; it's a good idea, at least in theory... But it's just not practical for us right now."

Fang didn't speak for a long moment, but when she did, her tone was far softer than before. "I was pretty surprised back there... A whole apartment and everything."

Lightning glanced out at the open road, still quite speckled with so many raindrops and puddles. "This was our dream... Serah's dream, to follow on from what our mother started." She closed her eyes for just a moment, yet she didn't let those aches in her limbs take her away, nor did she let herself drift off into a gentle sleep. "She wanted us to have a place of our own."

It was several long moments before the sound of tires rumbled against the pavement of the road, and then, after a moment longer, that familiar sound of mechanical hissing, those creaking doors that made Lightning open her eyes again. Fang didn't speak a single word, she merely plucked out a few more coins from her pockets, keeping the little envelope sheltered beneath her arm, before she followed on after Lightning into the bus, towards an aisle that only had two seats per row. They soon sat in silence, still close to each other, and it was only once the bus drove forward once more, once the city streets grew so much more dense and lively, only then did Lightning speak again.

"I want you to be with us." Lightning kept her voice low, and she kept her gaze on the many seats in front of her, avoiding the very sight of Fang's eyes. "I want Vanille to be here, too.. She's just like Serah to me."

"I know." Fang placed one of her hands down between them, and she almost smiled at the way Lightning quickly reached for it again. "And I can promise you this: we'll only leave when you want us to leave."

Lightning began to listen to the sounds of the people all around her, the quiet conversations that nearly had to strain themselves against the loud rumble of the bus, over the engine that steadily carried them further and further into the city, closer and closer to the apartment that Lightning herself called home. Fang closed her eyes for a long while, just to rest, and she slowly rubbed her thumb against Lightning's knuckles for whatever comfort it might have brought.

It was only when they reached a certain stop that Lightning suddenly stood up again, following on after most of the other passengers towards the front of the bus. Fang glanced out at where they had stopped, and while it struck her as rather odd that they were in a much denser part of the city than the little apartment complex, she simply followed on after Lightning, walking down towards the sidewalks that led off between the city's numerous shops and restaurants.

"Gapra, was it?" Fang kept her voice low; she remembered the stories that she'd heard of the particular city, one that almost seemed much too peaceful to be nestled right beside the restless sea. "Birch forests."

Lightning nodded. "Whitewood."

Fang walked on across the sidewalks, sniffing at all of the various scents in the air, from her fellow humans to the various cars they drove to the scent of fresh rain and gentle wind, even the restaurant scents that made her stomach whine and growl, yet there was simply no time to dwell upon the thought of dinner, at least not at that point in time.

Lightning waited to speak until they'd reached a street with a rather empty sidewalk, a longer road that led to the one building she was looking for. "Do you know why this place is so safe, Fang?"

Fang glanced up at the nearby sign of a bank. "Why's that?"

Lightning slowly narrowed her eyes. "Well... I don't know if I agree with it on principle, but in Gapra, brandishing a firearm for anything other than extreme self-defense is illegal." She kept walking on down the pathway, gazing at the road ahead. "No exceptions. Even if it's legal to shoot, they can't do it unless they have an absolute reason to."

Fang almost stopped in her tracks, but she soon had to hurry just to keep up with Lightning. "Seriously? I've never heard of that..."

"A lot of people didn't, not until it got big in the news." Lightning idly kicked a stray pebble across the sidewalk. "But it means we're safe, at least in crowds... Safe as we can possibly be in a city." She watched how the lush leaves of a flowerbed rustled in the evening wind, before she turned her gaze back up towards the nearby shopping plaza. "In a fight without guns... We win."

Fang still kept very quiet, walking silently until they reached the very front of the bank, one that stood beside several larger shops and lofty commercial buildings, likely located there for easy access to one's funds while out to purchase things.

"We're not too far from your place, right?" Fang quickly surveyed the area while Lightning entered a pincode into the outdoor terminal of the banking system. "It's getting late."

Lightning soon reached inside for a cylindrical capsule from the bank receptacle, and she swiftly removed all of the bills from the envelope she'd received from work, carefully pushing them down into the plastic container. "It's not a long walk home." She suddenly paused when something was pressed so gently against her elbow, yet when she turned back to look at what it was, she found that she had no other words to speak.

"Go on." Fang spoke very softly, just holding the plain envelope between two of her slender fingertips. "...You don't have to say anything."

Lightning felt her throat tighten up at the very sight of it, double the pay of a whole day's work, and if it had been anyone else but Fang who had offered it to her, she might've just let her temper snap and scold them for joking around. But it was Fang, the woman who was willing to risk crossing the border twice to find her family, to venture all the way back into Cocoon, to work an entire day when she didn't even have to, just to ease away the burden as much as she could.

"Light." Fang stepped in a bit closer, enough to speak in whispers. "When we got back last night, I couldn't sleep for a while, either... But you did, and you kept mumbling something about 'paying off the landlord for the month'."

Lightning tried to keep her breathing steady.

"And then, on the bus-" Fang paused, gently nudging the envelope against one of Lightning's hands. "It wasn't just mumbles anymore."

Lightning began to turn her gaze anywhere but the envelope, even down at the canister with her own money, all ready to be sent off into the bank, to pay for the bills, to heat the apartment in the approaching autumn, and for so many other future things, things that they had gone so very long without.

Fang leaned in to whisper against Lightning's ear. "So, if you want me to go away, I'll leave right now... But if you don't, then I'm going to take care of you." She released her gentle grip on the envelope, leaving it well within Lightning's hands. "I'm gonna take care of all of us, just like it used to be."

Lightning fought back whichever words her mind might conjure up next, might blurt out without careful preparation, so instead, she just silently opened the envelope, doubling the amount of currency to deposit.

"That's it." Fang soon leaned away, and she smiled to herself. "Can't have the place going cold, can we?"

"...Or dark." Lightning spoke in just a whisper, placing the canister back into the receptacle, where it was swiftly taken away by the mechanical workings of the terminal, off to be added to her bank account. "Electric bills."

Fang's limbs almost went stiff at the sudden sensation that grew so steadily stronger, and while she knew that it never would have happened if they weren't mostly alone, that Lightning wasn't usually one for open affection, not then, not ever, the hug that was slowly wrapped around her torso, just a silent sort of touch, one which she slowly began to return, she knew it had been given in true relief.

"There's that hug..." Fang curled one of her arms around Lightning's back, just holding her there, well-hidden within the darkness of the evening. "Been holding out on me, haven't you?"

Lightning suddenly punched at the side of Fang's shoulder, though it was a gesture without much actual force. "Any sooner and I might've given you a heart attack."

"Oh, I don't know about that..." Fang felt a warm smile curling on her lips, and she looked out over the empty parking lot, up towards the horizon, gazing at the city that waited for the darkness to spread out across the sky, for those lights to fully shine against all of that misty darkness. "It's been a long time, I could use all the hugs I can get."

Lightning leaned away, still lingering in the warmth of Fang's presence, within the comfort of her strength. "If you stick around, you might just get even more of them."

Fang stared into Lightning's eyes, into the strong glimmer that still remained despite the sheer exhaustion, the spirit that spoke of such incredible feats, of a safe place within the turbulent world, a home in the very heart of Cocoon, in the city of lights and such pale trees, of a summer that gave way to such calm, soothing winds, of cool air and gently falling leaves. Perhaps they might truly be safe, Fang thought, or perhaps it would all come crashing down before too long, perhaps those very roots would suddenly be ripped away, sent out to roam the earth again, but until then...

Lightning reached up to adjust the strap of her purse, before she slowly reached for Fang's hand, leading her back out across the sidewalk.

Until that day, until such dangers loomed within the shadows again, Fang would follow her family into the city of lights and chances, of unlikely possibilities and that sheer unpredictable luck, and she silently promised herself that she would work just as hard as Lightning did to make it all happen in their favor. If Lightning was intent on toiling herself away, then Fang resolved to be there to help her get back up again, to hoist her to her feet and ease the burden away. If there was no convincing her to leave the city, then there was simply nothing else for it. A family, no matter how far each member might stray, they always returned to each other before long, no matter what fears or conditions might await them.

Fang could feel the gentle squeeze of Lightning's hand, hidden between them as they walked, yet within that long, silent moment, it almost felt like all that ever mattered in the world.

The apartment lamps on the balcony began to glow beneath the darkness of the evening, and the tiny little moths and summer insects soon woke to flutter out in the light. They occasionally they landed upon the glass of the narrow windows, one of which reflected the face of a rather anxious individual.

Serah knew it was quite useless to stand there and watch from the front windowsill, for the minute that she grew too worried and decided to call Lightning on her cell phone, it always inevitably ended up in her momentary arrival, and then a few words of gentle reprimand, of how Serah shouldn't let herself get so stressed for no real reason at all.

She could feel the claws straining against her palms, yet she kept the rest of herself contained, fighting off the change that threatened to take over her entire body. There were a great number of things that could incite a lycanthrope into involuntary transformations; stress was the largest concern, followed by both anger and fear, even excitement in rarer cases, and then certain states of dreaming, and last of all, a source of pain, both physical and mental.

There had been a time when she was younger, when pain brought on one of her first involuntary changes. She'd been outside with her mother, wandering around in one of the group home's gardens, planting flowers beneath the weekend sun, but that was the moment when she accidentally stubbed one of her toes against a stray rock, a rather sharp bit of stone that had been sticking out from the dirt. Serah barely even realized what was happening at the time, at least not at such a young age, but her mother's watchful demeanor saw her swiftly gathered up and carried off to their room, long before the change could fully take hold. Yet by then, Serah was sitting there with teary eyes and clawed feet, with soft pointy ears that sank flat against her head. Nobody had seen it, as her mother often wore an apron during household chores, and she'd simply covered Serah up in the cloth and carried her right away. Yet when the time for schooling grew nearer and nearer, the question of how to handle such an uncontrollable condition became even more troublesome.

Serah remembered it clearly, the meticulously planned route that she and her sister would take if anything ever went awry, the safe places around the little school that they were told to run away and hide in, and then seek out their mother once the coast was clear. It was something that a child could definitely take to heart, but the question was, just how truly fair was it for them to have to suffer with such troubles?

She remembered the stress of making new friends, how it always made her fingernails feel so much sharper whenever they roughhoused with each other, and how her teeth almost began to hurt in her mouth whenever lunchtime came around. Growing pains, her mother said, and that they would all be better once she grew older, and that a greater sense of control would form as well.

So in that rainy summer day, when she was indeed much older, Serah waited, lingering there beside the windowsill, claws out, yet hidden against her palms. She focused as best as she could on keeping herself human, to keep her grip tight upon that fleeting sense of control. Perhaps it was just because it felt so natural, so very freeing to change forms even when it hurt so much, even when her bones ached inside her limbs, suffering from the urge to make them grow, to make herself be stronger, powerful enough to go out and find her missing family members, perhaps that was why it happened so swiftly.

Her pointed ears swiveled out, and Serah slowly moved herself away from the window, just in case any curious eyes might be peering around.

"Serah?" Vanille's voice called out from the living room. "You okay?"

Perhaps Vanille had caught the sudden change in scent, how her skin had turned into soft fur, how her whole body was swiftly changing, caught up in the many emotions of the day. Lightning was hardly ever late, and on the rare occasion that she was, it either meant that she had missed the bus or was out taking care of an errand, it was either that, or she was patrolling the nearby area in search of a possible threat.

"Serah?" Soft footsteps echoed against the carpet of the hallway. "Oh."

Serah's clothes weren't quite yet strained to the point of ripping apart, she'd kept that much under control, but her face was still obviously lupine, and her hands were already to the point of padded fingertips and blunt claws.

"Hey, it's okay..." Vanille stepped forward to touch and hold Serah's wrist, gently leading her away from the curtained window. "What's the matter?"

Serah spoke very quietly, following after Vanille. "Lightning's late..."

Vanille quickly made her way over towards the living room. "Fang's definitely still with her, you know."

"I know..." Serah's voice cracked, but she obeyed the way Vanille gestured for her to sit down against the sofa. "But I just get so... Worked up and worried; what if they ran into trouble?"

Vanille frowned, sitting down as well. "She'd call you, right?"

Serah nodded against the fabric of the couch, for she was trying to hide her face in the cushions.

"Hey, it's okay..." Vanille reached out to gently tug at one of Serah's pointed ears. "We're all in the same boat, aren't we? You don't have to keep it hidden here."

Serah closed her eyes, and her lycan nose twitched ever so slightly. Unlike Lightning's, it wasn't black in hue, but a very dark shade of pink; with the way it moved in on itself and flexed about to detect scents, the softer color made it all the more apparent.

"They'll be back soon." Vanille patted Serah's shoulder. "Look at that, there's the fireworks."

Serah turned her gaze towards the little television screen, where even in the thick, cloudy air, luminous sparks of light were crackling out into the evening sky. "...Maybe we can go see them in person next year."

Vanille paused, mulling over the very reason that she and Fang had returned to Cocoon in the first place, but yet again, she just couldn't bring herself to say anything that might bother Serah. "Maybe."

"Hey, that doesn't sound like you." Serah would have smiled if her jaw wasn't sloped into a lupine snout, with a mouth that just couldn't express the same level of amusement that a human could. "You used to love seeing them."

Vanille stared at the little television screen, at all of the people gathered there beside the firework grounds, watching the bright, joyful display. Her heart almost felt weighted for a brief moment, dragged down by the knowledge of the many dangers of such a city, but the sight of Serah's hands, which were gradually starting to look more and more human, that brought a small smile to her face.

A wolf might disregard the passage of time, but humanity found much comfort in the concept of a special day, events for celebrating the seasons themselves, even the last day of summer in the year, one that gave way to the gusting winds of autumn. Winter would wait patiently, and the leaves would soon begin to change their colors from a lush green to deep red, to bright yellow and orange, the very same hue as a certain lycanthrope.

Vanille knew that she was blessed by the fact that she could stifle her stress so easily, an almost unparalleled control over herself, yet she knew deep down that it was merely her natural skill at deception. Any shapeshifter could hide much more than their physical form, and a warm smile in place of fearful eyes could do much more than any attempt to calm herself down, a lie so powerful that it made her own body believe it without question. So while she was indeed trying not to shiver at the thought that Fang and Lightning could've gotten themselves into trouble on the way home, her fingertips stayed soft and her teeth remained dull, reined in by the lie that her own mind could be so blissfully unaware.

The wolf who wore a coat of orange, so bright, lively and cheerful, it often slumbered within a perpetual state of rest, at least until Vanille needed her claws to be out again, needed those fangs that could rend and tear just as well as either of her older friends could, a lurking beast, so very silent and still. And like the trees, she might bring out her coat when the time felt right, when she too heeded the call to simply run off and dance within those wilds, when Fang herself had brought them both across the wide mountain ranges of Gran Pulse, down into the lush valleys and hills that they soon began to call their own.

Yet there had been blood on her teeth when they'd finally caught Lightning's scent, when they finally found their family again, yet it had been the blood of a fellow lycan, one Vanille herself had sent to the realm beyond life. She tried not to glance down at where the cut was still lingering on her arm, the only remnant of those last desperate throes of a frenzied attacker, the savagery of one who'd tracked them down. It was the one who'd had the gall to try and ambush Fang's human form from those treetops far above, an action that drove her fellow lycanthrope to run so very high.

She remembered the sudden shift of her bones and muscles, of an utter, debilitating pain, and then the sheer exhilaration of the beast lurching away from where her human body once was, the way her teeth sharpened out within mere seconds and buried themselves so deep into the throat of their attacker. The wolf didn't even stop to think, didn't realize that her prey was a lycanthrope as well, it only knew that her own friend had been hurt by it, sliced at the back of her neck by a stray claw, and then later on, her cheek received the same treatment, when she rushed in to help cut off the line of attack.

Vanille watched the fireworks bloom across the television screen, remembering the way that the light seeped out from that strange lycan's eyes, so very still and cloudy and dead, how her own clawed hands had choked away the air from that broad, muscular neck, removing the threat of any further attacks. Had it been cruel to kill a fellow beast? To leave them bleeding there, all while the sounds of human shouting grew nearer and nearer, as if they knew exactly where to go?

Vanille felt the first hint of a frown forming on her face, but she carefully pushed it away.

The news kept showing all of those fireworks, yet it was such an elderly little television, old metal and wooden stands, with a screen as fuzzy as the mist from the rain. And the shape itself, that rectangular form, it almost reminded her of the odd little object she had tried to crush with her claws and hands, yet she'd found it was much too durable. The slain lycan had been wearing a radio collar. She knew it by the written words on the side, by how she'd paused to examine it even when a gunshot rang out, whistling just a bit too close for comfort, before Fang simply dragged her away, rushing on towards the relative safety of the nearby city. When they'd reached the edge of the harbor with the rain clouds looming up above, just out of sight of any human eyes, there had been so much blood upon their hands, in their mouths, between their teeth, all up until the cold, salty waves of the sea helped to wash it all away. Yet there was a silent moment that came right after, a long, lingering while, before Fang suddenly stood upright within the waves, sniffing so silently at the ocean air.

There had been a certain scent on the wind.

Drawing herself away from her thoughts, Vanille looked down at where Serah was resting against the sofa, almost entirely human again, as if she might have finally been relaxing to all of the familiar sounds of the television. Perhaps it was the normalcy of the soft little noises, or even the distant rumble of the roads beside the parking lot, yet it was just enough to make the wolf sleep again, to fade away, unneeded in such a peaceful time and place.

Lightning made her way down the sidewalk, the one that would eventually lead her towards the apartments, long past the shopping plaza with the bank, down the pathway that led right beside a very small park with a public garden, and on towards the little corners stores and the empty buildings up for rent. It wasn't quite the shadiest part of town, not by a long shot, but the scent of tobacco and open gasoline were always rather present whenever she ventured through it, not to mention the pungent and distinctive scent of a certain medicinal plant.

Fang sniffed at the air as well. "Wow."

"Yeah." Lightning kept to the lights of the streetlamps, moving on towards one of the nearby crosswalks. "But it does have a silver lining."

Fang soon paused at the edge of the street. "And what's that?"

"Cheap food." Lightning's gaze drifted down to the purse at her side, where a wallet held her funds for day to day usage. "Good food, at that... What do you say we make it a better holiday for the kids?"

Fang smiled when the flashing crosswalk light motioned them forward. "I thought they weren't kids anymore."

"They always will be." Lightning crossed the street, walking within the headlights of a stopped car, so bright that it almost felt blinding. "Serah's turning twenty next year... But she still feels just like the little kid she used to be."

"I know the feeling." Fang gently rubbed at the bandage on her cheek. "Vanille's done a lot of growing up, too... Helped me out of a pretty bad situation before we got here."

Lightning walked on towards the next sidewalk. "What sort of 'situation'?"

Fang drew in a very deep breath. "Like I told you, we shook them off before we got here, okay? So don't get freaked out."

Lightning nodded. "I won't." She glanced back and forth to make sure they were alone enough. "What happened?"

"Well, it seemed like just more of the usual, at first." Fang kicked at a stray bit of paper upon the sidewalk. "You know... 'Foxhunting' on 'horseback'."

Lightning took a moment to remember the code that Fang was speaking in, and she whispered her reply. "Cars?"

Fang slowly shook her head. "We 'saw' them coming from far off... Gasoline, but no cars."

Lightning remembered a certain band of lycan hunters who had once caught up to them on motorbikes, which had the fortunate habit of tipping over quite easily with a swift kick to the side. She almost smiled to herself at the thought of it, for needless to say, they weren't bothered by that group of individuals for very long. "Bikes, then?"

Fang nodded. "Yeah, the only problem was... And this is what caught us off guard; they ditched the 'horses' for a hound."

Lightning felt the tiny hairs on the back of her neck prickle up. "A 'hound'?"

Fang fought back a bitter smile. "I guess they don't hate it enough not to use it."

Lightning stopped in her tracks, gazing out at seemingly nothing, but Fang could tell that her mind was working away on overdrive.

"Hey." Fang stepped in to hold Lightning's hand again. "You told me you wouldn't freak out."

Lightning slowly grit her teeth together, so much sharper and utterly pointed than a moment before, yet they were hidden beneath the frigid, pained look upon her face. "Who in their right mind..?"

"We can talk about it somewhere else." Fang kept her voice very low. "But listen, I bet this'll make you feel better..." She leaned in to whisper so softly, simultaneously leading Lightning to walk forward. "The 'fox' had a friend, you see... And two foxes can take down a dog, maybe even the punks who own it."

Lightning stared blankly at the sidewalk. "It's dead?"

Fang nodded, squeezing Lightning's hand.

"And they can't-" Lightning tried to keep her own voice down to a whisper, still letting Fang guide the way forward. "Can't attack us without it, not without too much trouble."

"Exactly." Fang swiftly brushed aside the fact that there could still have been others who'd betrayed the unspoken pact of lycanthropes, to aid their own kind in whatever ways they could. "It's... Relatively safe, like you said."

Lightning tried not to let her teeth flash out with each muttered word, barely keeping herself under control. "I don't like 'relatively'."

"I know, Light." Fang kept leading the way along the sidewalk, moving with Lightning in between herself and the nearby buildings, just to keep any possible mishaps out of sight, yet it still seemed as if only her teeth had changed. "Just relax... Breathe with me, okay?"

Lightning closed her eyes ever so slightly, focusing upon the way Fang punctuated each breath of air with wordless sounds, whispering softly beside her ear. It was hard to keep her lungs from seizing, from letting her fingernails sharpen out into claws, but she had performed the very same relaxation technique so many numerous times, and in that time of evening, beneath such cloudy weather, the streets were very much unoccupied.

"There you go." Fang inhaled another deep, yet quiet breath. "I've got your back, you hear me?"

And she knew it from the way Fang shielded her from sight, a strong physical barrier between Lightning herself and the street beyond the sidewalk, from the risk that they were both taking whenever she spoke, even if it was such a small part of her body to be seen. Her teeth were still sharper, the long canines of a wolf, yet they weren't very visible from such a distance, not even from the cars that drove so slowly down the residential streets.

It took time, it always took time, but Lightning soon began to feel that sense of urgency fade away, disappearing with the knowledge that they were all as safe as they could ever be, that she had a friend at her side, a friend who'd taken far more than bullets for her in the past than she could ever count, bound by their fellow conditions.

The streets were almost silent, yet beneath the sudden crack of distant fireworks, likely launched from somewhere beyond the city itself, Lightning turned her gaze up towards the sky, to the lights that glowed so brightly for just a mere moment of time, and then grew so very dim.

Fang kept holding Lightning's hand, gazing at the fireworks as well.

"A holiday." Lightning looked back down at Fang. "Let's make it something special."

The birch trees stood proudly among the taller pines, a stark white against the rich, deep evergreens, while a single blur of silver wandered out along the forest floor.

His keen ears caught almost all of the sounds in the woods, the strong winds, the evening birdsong, a chorus that grew so very silent as the darkness of night grew closer and closer, before the sun finally sank down against the horizon, disappearing to bring forth the night. And with the darkness came the sounds of distant lurking, of low, rumbling vehicles that just couldn't mask their presence in the silence, no matter how quiet they might be, and the very sound itself sent what felt like ice water into Hope's veins.

They were still hunting him. His eyes slowly began to widen. The river hadn't truly hidden his trail, at least not for long, and he was just standing there, barely even healed from all the injures he'd received, with no idea how far he had left to travel, nor how many days it would take to leave the wilderness behind. So he was off in a flash of silver and white, of small paws treading swiftly against the damp earth, still so soft from the previous rain. He ran in utter silence, of a swiftly rapidly heart, of the will to live and escape the tightening noose.

How had they tracked him so quickly? Pawprint trails were almost always inevitable, as were broken twigs or paths of parted grass and shrubs within the undergrowth, but to have caught up with him so quickly, there was only one explanation he could think of. The other lycan, the beast who'd ripped his mother's leg, who had sentenced her to death by poison and gunfire...

The wolf within might have roared for revenge, to turn back and slay the one who had harmed his family, but Hope himself still had half of a mind to evade that other lycan for the rest of his life. For what use could more death truly bring? Both sides of his thoughts quarreled as he ran, racing for his life within the trees, but when he thought back towards his future destination, a city that his mother said would be safe, he wondered how truly 'safe' it could even be with a traitorous lycan on his trail. He'd surely be scented again, hunted down in the streets like an animal, killed when he least expected it. And that grim conclusion, it was something that both sides could agree on; for his own safety, his own life, such a pursuer had to be removed. But how to do the deed? How to separate it from those apparent human friends, to get it away from all of the gunfire and into a position to truly fight?

Hope's ears sank low against his head. His lycan form was taller and larger than any human, but against another of his kind, it would surely become a losing battle. He had always been smaller than his peers, thin and somewhat lanky, even since he had grown quite a bit, halfway between childhood and adolescence. Hope would turn sixteen in the following year, provided that he wasn't slain out in the woods like a fearful elk, like a fox on the run from such mighty forces, from teeth and bright gunfire and the frigid sting of wolfsbane.

Perhaps it was sheer luck that he stumbled across a lone cabin beneath the pine trees, even if it was locked up for the summer, yet the windows were only made of glass, so it took little effort just to jump aloft and smash himself against it, no matter how much it stung. He swiftly landed in a jagged pile of broken glass and so many brittle fractured window panes, and Hope yelped in pain at the many little cuts on his pelt, an incredibly high-pitched cry, but there was little time to stop and tend to his wounds.

Blood trickled down within his silver fur, red and dark white, a lone beast in search of anything that might help him, anything at all, yet there were no weapons to be seen, nothing within those many cabinets and containers, not until he finally caught sight of a single, solitary object.

A long length of rope sat silently upon a bench near the wall, likely used for climbing or hitching things together, exactly the sort of thing that could turn the rushing tide in his own favor.

In those early days, when his father had been present, Hope was taught the knowledge of how to navigate the land and hunt within his more feral form, but his parents also pushed the fact that he should also be able to live without his bestial side. Such concepts led to being taught how to fish and how to properly shoot a small firearm, how to cut prey apart with the edge of a hunting knife, and even how to set and bait traps in the wilderness.

He grabbed the roll of rope with his teeth, carrying it around with him as he forced himself to change back into a larger from, his true lycan body, before he hurried about the little cabin in search of any other tools that he could find, but there was little left behind for such would-be burglars. He held no guilt in his mind, however, for it was a matter of life or death, after all, far more valuable than a broken window or a bit of rope.

The jump out from the window landed far easier than before, and he took off into the forest again, still hearing that distant rumble of the engines in his ears, vehicles that could traverse the low terrain with great speed and agility, almost as fast as a lycan who had nearly everything to lose. He ran faster than he'd ever raced before, gripping the rope between his teeth, and each leaping pace brought him further and further into the darker density of the forest, between the tall pines and swaying birches, the thinner trees that he'd need for such a certain technique.

Hope finally paused when he couldn't hear the vehicles anymore, though he knew they were definitely still hot on his trail. It was a tiny thicket that he'd happened upon, one with those pale white birches, punctuated by dense undergrowth and the narrow, fluffier fir trees. There were many stray sticks upon the ground, the only things he needed, and with the strength of a lycan, it took little time to snap a few of the larger branches apart, ones with notches between each smaller branch that made a wedgelike gap, hooks that could hold a much straighter stick in place.

It became triangular in shape, wide enough for Hope himself to stand within, two of those hooked branches beside that long one beneath, and then a smaller bit that would become the third stake in the ground. The soil was soft from the previous rain, enough that he could simply hammer the branches down into the earth itself with a flat bit of rock, setting them steadily into place.

Next came the rope, provided that he wasn't about to be lunged upon by his pursuers, or course, but an attack didn't yet come, at least not at that moment. He wove one end of the rope into a bowline knot, a loop that wouldn't slip with any tension, but it was perfect to help create an actual slip knot, which was made by pulling the base end of the rope though the loop itself. Each side of the rope was soon tied, and Hope reached for a rather tiny bit of fallen wood, smaller than the other branches, which was to be the trigger stick, tied up near the slip knot, beside the base of the contraption.

His ears perked at the approaching sounds, yet Hope tried as best as he possibly could not to tremble or freeze up, for it was already so loud, so thunderous, so much that he wanted to simply race to his feet and dash away again, yet he knew that the task at hand still needed to be finished.

He jumped up at the nearest of the birch trees, a thin trunk that was still rather flexible in its youth, though it did rise very high into the air, far enough that he had to grip at the papery bark with his hind claws, scrabbling his way up to tie down the other end of the rope against the tallest height of the tree.

Hope soon leapt back down, and he reached up to grab the rope and trigger stick, enough to pull it down with all of his might, positioning each part beneath the main stick that was held firmly in place by the two hooked branches, which made the tree trunk creak and groan with sheer physical tension. And the last stick, which was, at least in theory, the 'bait stick', he wedged it down between the third stake and the trigger stick, in order to keep the rope steady against the hooked anchor mechanism.

And the very last step, all while the blood still roared in his ears, Hope set the slip knot down over the bait stick, an action that would have caught him much prey in the past, a rabbit, perhaps, or a squirrel, maybe even a deer with the right size of trap, yet at that moment, when he caught the distant sound of footfalls...

Hope knew it wasn't prey he was hunting for, and that no bait of leafy herbs or crushed pine nuts would see him with results. No, if he needed bait...

It was the thrill of trembling in such fear, the rush of adrenaline when he leapt back out over the very trap he'd made, running headlong into the fray itself, into the forest that he knew held the deadliest prey, a human with all the natural abilities of an apex predator, of a wolf, it was the frantic beating of his own heart that kept him mobile, running out to meet with the face of death itself.

And what a face it was, shadowed within the cloak of nightfall, of pointed ears and dark gray fur, of slavering teeth and broad muscles strained by the need to keep itself under control, to hunt down the quarry and lead that band of hunters towards their kill, to chase a fellow lycan down to the cold, bitter end.

Yet Hope was just as swift as any adult lycanthrope, perhaps even swifter, and in the dark of the night, even with such keen eyesight, he knew that his pursuer would likely be so focused upon the prey that his own little 'surprise' would go unnoticed.

As he doubled back around to run off as fast as he could, with the snapping of sharp teeth at his heels, the sounds of crashing leaves and branches all around him, Hope silently began to thank each and every time that his mother had taken him to the woods as a child, to teach him the art of such subtle, natural deception. He lunged himself out into the forest depths, racing with the strange lycan on his tail, the furious beast with such massive teeth and limbs, nearly twice his size, and Hope thought that perhaps such an act would be his mother's legacy.

A hunter of the wilds, a woman who once fell in love with a human man, enough to bring a son into the world, she had taught him of his own heritage as an intelligent beast, a wolf of cunning tricks, of such great swiftness and guile. Yes, Hope thought, she'd likely be proud of what he had made in those woods, and of just how fast he was running to keep himself one step away from his target.

Though he did yelp so sharply when the end of his tail was suddenly bitten, snapped between those massive, mighty jaws, enough to injure the bones beneath his fur and made his skin bleed, but a swift kick to the throat made the other lycan release its frightful hold, thought it still kept hounding him without pause.

A trail of blood was left in his wake, and Hope felt those sweltering tears well up in his eyes again, the fear of what was quite likely a fractured tailbone, but the adrenaline kept most of the pain at bay. He had a path yet to run on, a trap yet to spring, and one simple bite, it just wasn't enough to extinguish his spirit.

And there it was, off in the distance, though it felt as if it had only been moments before that he planted it down in the earth, and as he suddenly burst forward, leaping up and above the slip knot just as subtly as he possibly could, it came as a lurch to his own lungs when a sudden, deafening roar echoed out into heights of the boundless forest.

The coiling crack of the flexible tree trunk whistled out through the air like a massive whip, sending the one that it had caught up in rope careening on along with it, before the sheer weight plunged back down within the following swing. It was a noose trap, a tree spring, one that held the ankle of a lycanthrope so tightly inside its clutches.

Hope barely even realized that he himself had stopped running to peer back at the snare, at the hulking beast that writhed so helplessly in the grip of the knotted rope, unable to even reach up far enough to rip itself free, fated to dangle back and forth with each feeble struggle it made, witless and utterly lost.

And Hope just stood there, so small and swift, baring his teeth with a low, rumbling snarl, the sort of sound reserved only for enemies and threats alone. It was not prey, he knew, but revenge, the end of a threat that knew far too much of his own scent. It was retaliation for the life lost to those who'd followed the signal of the radio collar, and that was the first to go, for Hope lunged out without a word, teeth and claws sinking down into such helpless flesh beside the metal collar, even when the lycan bellowed and thrashed, snapping out as well, clawing and scratching and baying with each deep, savage bite that it took to the throat, yet it took only milliseconds before the blood flew thick and free.

It was no simple dispute, no baseless threat with snaps and growls, or maybe even a bite or two to establish one's strength, no, it was an incalculable amount of bloodletting, a war, a savage and grappling fight into the bitter end, perhaps even beyond that; it was a warning that no further acts of aggression would ever be tolerated, to be punished by the end of one's life.

Hope's eyes burned with those countless specks of blood, and his teeth began to sink even deeper, gagging upon the flow of acrid liquid that gushed down from the open jugular of his victim. The radio collar was lost within it, drenched and nearly bitten up to pieces, snapped between teeth that could sever the joints of bones as well as flesh, yet it was only when Hope lunged away and then back in again to tear right at the spine of his opponent, only then did the dangling lycan fall completely, utterly still.

He could feel it seeping between his teeth, slick with blood and such dark, ragged bits of fur, of reddened flesh, and Hope slowly began to release his grip once more, moving away from the one who now lay lifeless. The wolf felt only pride, practically high upon the sensation of proving itself, of besting an enemy with sheer wits and inner strength, yet the human shrank back at the sight of such a horrid death, asphyxiated and blooded by the savage bite of a lycan, all for the safety of himself.

It was for his mother, the wolf reminded him, his mother was dead because of that one, it had brought her to her death without remorse, so why should he feel anything but accomplishment? Yet the human spoke silently, limping away to leave the area before any of the humans caught up. He spoke within his own mind, he spoke of the boundary that separated the race of men from beasts, of that crushing guilt, of such strong empathy, of the sorrow and the tears that trickled down across his blooded snout, of the mournful weight that settled itself into each and every one of his steps, even when he forced himself to run again.

A life was gone. It was irretrievable, simple as that. It had been taken away by his own teeth and claws, and even if it meant that he couldn't be tracked so mercilessly upon his travels, Hope knew he would never forget the act of savagery that he himself had committed.