Trigger warning: self harm via excessive punching, minor
The steady hum of old wood creaked beneath Donatello's workbench as he delicately tightened the final screw. He stepped back and admired the small contraption before him: a handcrafted music box, gears gleaming, the top delicately etched with the symbol of a lotus flower. His face lit with hope.
"There," he muttered. "Too much?"
Michelangelo peered over his shoulder, arms crossed. "Do you really want my opinion?"
"Only if you think it's perfect," Donnie replied without hesitation.
Mikey grinned. "It's perfect!"
Later that afternoon, Donnie found April in the farmhouse living room and offered her the box, his hands trembling slightly.
"Wow," she said, taking it with a smile. "That is just super neat. Thanks so much, Donnie!" She stepped back, eyes darting to the stairs. "Well, gotta go! Got some, uh... training to do." She gave a quick chuckle and disappeared before he could respond. "Thanks again, Donnie!"
Donnie stood still, the weight of unspoken feelings tightening in his chest. He glanced down at the box.
"I can't even imagine how you're feeling right now," Mikey said gently, stepping beside him.
Donnie exhaled, defeated. "Devastated."
Mikey groaned. "Aw, man! I was totally gonna say 'devastated'! I should've just went for it. Gotta learn to trust my instincts..."
Before he could ramble further, Donnie pulled him close and threw him onto the couch, sighing in despair.
From the corner of the room, Raph leaned against the doorway, unimpressed. "Smooth move, genius. It's never gonna happen, Donnie. We're mutants. She's a girl. You're a giant talking turtle. Sooner you get used to it, the better."
Donnie scowled, but Raph grinned. "You know what you need? Huh? Huh, buddy?"
"You to leave?"
"A little forest ninja training. Sounds like fun, right?"
Moments later, they were outside in the cool air, trees stretching overhead. Raph led the way through the brush, Leo watching from a distance as Donnie and Mikey stumbled after him. Raph dropped into a stance.
"C'mon, you two," he barked. "You're rustier than the Titanic's butt!"
Donnie and Mikey barely had time to react before Raph flipped Donnie onto his shell and Mikey into a bush.
"You're not in the city anymore. No buildings. No subways. Lots of trees."
Mikey groaned from the ground. "Ugh. Tell me about it."
Raph turned to Leo, a glint in his eye. "Well? What do you think?"
Leo hesitated, wincing as he shifted his weight. "Turtle hunt."
"Turtle hunt?" Donnie echoed warily.
Raph grinned wider. "Yup. Turtle hunt."
"You gonna help out?" Raph asked Leo again.
Leo shook his head, guilt and fatigue behind his eyes. "Sorry. Still not up to it. Enjoy your little hunt."
Raph turned back to Donnie and Mikey, cracking his knuckles.
"Here's the deal. You guys head into the forest. I'll give you a five-minute head start. Then I hunt you down. If I catch you before an hour's up..."
He paused for dramatic effect.
"You clean the chicken coop."
Donnie blanched. "No way!"
"Not the chicken coop, man!" Mikey cried. "It smells like cheese fossils!"
"It's got spiders so big they play the banjo!" Donnie added.
"We can't clean that thing!"
"Then get moving," Raph barked.
Without another word, Mikey and Donnie darted toward the trees, desperate to escape both Raph and the horrifying fate that awaited them in the coop.
Just off to the side, Cat sat on the porch steps, her knees hugged tightly to her chest. She watched the whole exchange with wide, tired eyes, not saying a word—just like she hadn't since they arrived at the farmhouse. Her healed arm rested in her lap, wrapped in a soft bandage from overuse, even though the break itself had mended.
Raph noticed her and strode over, half-joking. "You're next, short stack. Gonna join the turtle hunt or what?"
Cat shrank slightly at his tone, shaking her head once, eyes down.
"C'mon," Raph said, more gently this time. "You'll warm up to it."
Before he could say more, Elliot emerged from around the side of the house, hands in his jacket pockets. He clocked Raph immediately, keeping his distance from Cat and leaning casually against the porch railing. His usual easy sarcasm was gone.
"She's good where she is," Elliot said lightly, not looking at her.
Cat didn't react, but her fingers curled a little tighter around the edge of her sleeve.
Raph narrowed his eyes at Elliot, but didn't push. "Fine. Guess not everyone's cut out for turtle hunt."
He stomped off toward the woods.
Elliot sat down on the edge of the step, a few feet away from Cat. He didn't try to talk to her. Just sat with her, silent and steady.
In the distance, the soft sound of someone hitting a wooden post echoed from the barn.
Mari was already out there, training alone again. She was gone before anyone else had woken up.
Sigh.
The forest stretched wide and quiet, filtered light slipping through the tall trees as Mikey trudged through the underbrush with Donatello behind him.
"How do we even hide in the woods?" Mikey whispered, glancing around suspiciously. "There's no doors!"
A leaf floated lazily down and stuck to Donnie's face. He peeled it off and squinted up into the canopy.
"We could climb a tree."
Mikey shot him a look. "That's the first place he's gonna look. Could we burrow? Do turtles burrow in the wild?"
"I don't know! I've never been in the wild before! Have you?"
Mikey shrugged. "Does Jersey count?"
Before Donnie could answer, a distant roar echoed through the trees. The two froze.
"What the heck was that?" Mikey yelped, eyes wide.
Donnie stiffened. "It's gotta be Raph. Messing with us. Right?"
Mikey didn't look convinced. "We gotta hide. Now!"
They scrambled up the nearest tree, limbs flailing as they clambered onto a thick branch.
"We are so cleaning that coop," Donnie muttered. "Raph's gonna find us up here in, like, five seconds."
"I don't think so," Mikey said.
"Why not?"
They turned—and froze. Sitting just a few feet above them, perched on a higher branch, was a towering figure covered in matted fur. Its massive head tilted, curious, its dark eyes blinking slowly.
"Um... hi?" Mikey offered.
With a sudden burst of movement, the creature lunged. Mikey and Donnie shrieked as the beast knocked them from the tree with a swift swipe.
"He's too big!" Donnie shouted. "Run!"
The two tore through the woods in a panic, crashing through the underbrush until they stumbled into a clearing—and into Mari.
She stood alone, fists clenched, slamming them repeatedly into the thick bark of a tree. Her knuckles were already bloodied, raw from whatever training—or punishment—she'd been putting herself through. Sweat dripped down her brow, her breaths shallow and fast, as if she hadn't stopped moving in hours.
"Mari?!" Donnie gasped.
She turned sharply, instinctively raising her fists as if they were enemies—then froze when she saw their faces.
"What the hell are you two doing?" she snapped, voice harsh, but her shoulders trembled faintly.
"We're being chased by Bigfoot!" Mikey yelped, just before another roar cut through the trees behind them.
Mari's expression flickered—confusion, disbelief, then something that looked a lot like annoyance. "You're kidding."
"Nope!" Mikey grabbed her arm. "Move!"
Bigfoot burst through the trees a second later, and Mari's narrowed eyes widened.
"What the—"
There wasn't time to process. Raph suddenly appeared, dropping into a stance. "Come on, you're not even trying to hide!" he barked—then paused, eyes locking on Bigfoot.
Bigfoot towered over them, panting, wounded.
"...Okay," Raph said slowly, cracking his knuckles. "Looks like we're gonna get some real training."
The battle started fast. Bigfoot knocked Mikey and Donnie back. Raph flipped through the air but was disarmed by a twirl of wooden branches. Mari didn't join in—she stood frozen for a beat, eyes on the beast's bleeding arm. Her fists, already torn, curled tighter.
Mikey yelped as he was grabbed mid-air. Donnie stepped forward, noticing the fear in the creature's eyes.
"Guys, stop!" Donnie called out. "He's hurt! I don't think he wants to fight us. He's just scared."
"Scared..." Bigfoot echoed softly.
Raph blinked. "He... can talk?"
Donnie nodded slowly. "Look at that sagittal crest. He could be a Paranthropus Robustus—a hominid long thought extinct!"
"Can't... breathe..." Mikey wheezed, still in Bigfoot's grip.
Donnie stepped forward. "Easy. I can help. Just let us treat your arm. We can take care of you."
Bigfoot looked between them, then down at his wound—and nodded. He lowered Mikey.
"I'm Donnie. That's Raph, Mikey, and Mari."
Mari scoffed, crossing her arms. "This is such a waste of time."
From the shadows, the Finger watched. And followed.
The farmhouse door creaked open as Donnie led the way inside, brushing dirt from his arm. Behind him, the massive figure of Bigfoot awkwardly ducked under the doorframe—still bumping her head anyway.
"Hello? Anybody home?" Donnie called out. "We've got company!"
Leo appeared at the end of the hallway, blinking in disbelief. "What? You can't just let anyone in—why is the doorway full of fur?"
Casey stared. "And a giant butt?!"
Mikey grunted, bracing his feet against the floor and tugging at Bigfoot's hand. "Come on, Bigfoot, just wiggle through!"
With one last awkward shuffle, Bigfoot stumbled into the room, nearly knocking over the coat rack as Mari stepped in behind her, looking tired, scraped, and completely unfazed.
"This was a bad idea," Mari muttered, wiping at her bandaged knuckles with the edge of her shirt.
"You brought Bigfoot home?!" Leo shouted, eyes darting between Donnie and Mari.
Bigfoot blinked innocently. "Why everyone know Bigfoot name?"
Donnie stepped in quickly. "Bigfoot, this is Leo, Casey, and April."
April entered from the kitchen, freezing when she saw the towering creature. But the moment she spotted the injury on Bigfoot's arm, her expression softened. "She's hurt. I'll grab the first aid kit."
Leo crossed his arms. "Donnie. You can't just bring Bigfoot into our house."
"She's not dangerous," Donnie said. "She's hurt. And scared. Just until her arm heals."
Mari gave Leo a tired look. "Man, I dunno."
April returned with the kit and gently led Bigfoot toward the living room.
As they passed the stairs, Cat peeked out quietly, her fingers curled against the banister, her eyes tracked Bigfoot with cautious curiosity. Elliot leaned against the wall nearby, glancing between her and the scene unfolding.
She shifted a little closer to him, subtle but noticeable. He didn't react much—especially not with Raph nearby.
Casey elbowed Donnie lightly. "Just saying, when I wanted to keep a dog, it was a hard no."
Donnie sighed, already exasperated. "You don't get it. Bigfoot might be a Paranthropus robustus—a living missing link! This could rewrite the history of science!"
Casey raised a brow. "So... bigger than talking turtles?"
Donnie glared. Casey grinned.
In the other room, April carefully wrapped a fresh bandage around Bigfoot's arm. "There. Try not to use it too much."
"Bigfoot thank Donnie," the creature said, voice low and sweet.
"No problem," Donnie replied, stepping closer.
Bigfoot turned toward him, eyes bright. "Donnie good mans. So good... Bigfoot—" She lunged suddenly, wrapping him in a crushing hug and planting a big wet kiss on his cheek. "Love Donnie! Bigfoot am lady!"
Donnie stood frozen, eyes wide in horror.
"That... is great?" he squeaked.
From the doorway, Casey doubled over laughing. "That IS great!"
Leo, Raph, and Mikey all burst out laughing too, gasping for air as Donnie was smothered by his enormous admirer.
Even Mari cracked a tired smirk, arms crossed as she leaned against the wall.
Cat tilted her head, still expressionless—but her eyes glimmered, just barely. Elliot caught the look and held back a smirk of his own.
Donnie just stood there, limp in Bigfoot's arms, questioning all of his life choices.
The sun dipped low behind the trees, casting long shadows across the fields as the farmhouse filled with the smell of dinner. Mikey stood at the old stove, humming off-key while stirring a pot of something he insisted was "a secret recipe passed down by the culinary gods." He dipped a spoon in and slurped a mouthful, pausing, eyes lighting up.
"Not bad," he grinned, then looked up and beamed. "Hey, Bigfoot! You made it just in time!"
Bigfoot lumbered into the kitchen, holding something behind her back.
"Bigfoot bring meat!" she declared proudly.
Mikey blinked. "Uh... Where did you—?"
"Good meat!" she said with a booming laugh. "Tender, tender!"
He leaned over the pot, glanced at what she was holding—then turned pale.
"Oh no."
Before anyone could stop him, Mikey gagged and promptly vomited into the soup.
Later, Bigfoot exited the bathroom with a satisfied grin.
"Bigfoot make waste."
Raph looked up from the couch, raising a brow. "Make waste?"
He glanced down the hall and stepped into the bathroom—then immediately recoiled, covering his mouth in horror.
The toilet was untouched.
The bathtub, however, was absolutely not.
"AAH! BIGFOOT!"
Outside, the wind rustled through the trees as Raph grumbled, gas mask in hand.
"Donnie and Mikey need to learn to blend in out here. Forest stealth. If you're gonna stay with us," he added, glancing at Bigfoot, "at least teach them something useful."
Bigfoot nodded solemnly and turned to Mikey and Donnie.
"Please don't grab my head again," Mikey muttered.
Without a word, Bigfoot hoisted Mikey and dropped him into a bush.
"Blend in."
Donnie frowned. "I can still see him."
From the shadows of the woods, the glint of a rifle scope caught the fading light. Hidden behind the trees, The Finger peered out.
"Mama," he murmured, "looks like Bigfoot done found herself a couple o' little green alien buddies. The Finger's okay with that."
Before his dart could fly, Bigfoot's eyes narrowed. She grabbed both turtles in one sweep and bolted into the woods as darts peppered the ground where they'd just stood.
"Donnie!" Mikey yelped. "She's squishing me!"
Donnie winced. "What's happening?!"
Behind them, The Finger snarled. "Darn it! Lost 'em. But not for long."
Back at the farmhouse, Raph and Leo were sparring lightly in the living room. Leo was holding back—still recovering—but the rhythm of their movements was enough to draw some of the tension from the room.
"Come on, Leo," Raph urged. "Give me your best!"
Leo blocked his next jab calmly. "You'll gain no ground."
From the nearby couch, Mikey leaned forward, holding a bag of frozen peas against his ribs as he watched Bigfoot gently close the curtains with surprising delicacy.
"Oh man," Mikey muttered. "Bigfoot is amazeballs at the forest stealth stuff."
Bigfoot didn't answer. She paused with her hand on the curtain, peeking outside through a narrow crack.
"Bigfoot scared," she murmured. "Finger bad."
Donnie, perched on the arm of the chair across from her, frowned thoughtfully.
April was wiping the counter when Cat shuffled in silently, trailing behind Elliot. She hovered by the fridge, her eyes tired, arms loosely wrapped around herself.
Elliot opened the cabinet beside her, glancing down. "You want tea?" he asked softly.
Cat gave a small nod.
April turned at the sound of Bigfoot humming to herself at the stove, stirring something in a pot with suspicious enthusiasm.
"Evening, Bigfoot," April said carefully. "What're you making?"
Bigfoot grinned. "Food! Donnie!" she called cheerfully.
April stepped closer, peering into the pot—only to recoil when she spotted tufts of fur still attached to the meat.
"Uh... you do realize that meat has fur?"
Bigfoot's grin faltered, just as a loud yowl echoed from the fridge behind them.
Cat flinched. Elliot turned toward the sound.
The fridge door rattled.
Then: "Yowl!"
Bigfoot shrieked in panic. With one enormous hand, she grabbed the fridge and hurled it across the kitchen. It crashed through the open window in a spectacular arc and landed in the yard with a soft thump. Ice Cream Kitty crawled out moments later, completely unharmed but a little dizzy.
April stood frozen. So did Elliot. Cat just blinked.
Bigfoot turned slowly, sheepish. "Bigfoot sorry."
April opened her mouth to say something—but before she could speak, Bigfoot turned her attention to Elliot and Cat, who were standing close as they stared out the window at the destroyed fridge.
Bigfoot tilted her head.
"You two... couple?" she asked innocently.
Elliot choked. "What—? No!"
Cat looked completely baffled, taking a step back.
Bigfoot blinked. "But boy... loves mutant girl. Maybe Bigfoot can have love too."
Cat slowly backed out of the room. Elliot followed right after her, rubbing the back of his neck with a quiet, "Okay then."
April, deciding to ignore that, turned back to Bigfoot.
Bigfoot beamed. "Makeover. Huh?"
Later that evening, the farmhouse was unusually quiet, the golden hour sun casting a warm glow through the windows. April stood in the kitchen, carefully trimming Bigfoot's hair with a pair of old scissors.
"Okay... just a little off the top here," she said gently, brushing stray strands away from Bigfoot's face. "There. What do you think?"
Bigfoot took the hand mirror April offered, beaming with anticipation—only for the glass to shatter the moment she looked into it. Her smile faltered, the jagged cracks distorting her reflection.
Meanwhile, Donatello headed down the stairs, muttering to himself about finishing another adjustment to his music box. He stopped short when Bigfoot appeared at the bottom of the steps, holding out a steaming pot of something suspiciously chunky.
"Eat!" she declared proudly.
Donnie jumped back, startled. "Gah! Did you—? Wow, whoa. Uh, yeah, um... Thank you! Gotta go, bye!"
He rushed past her, leaving Bigfoot standing there alone, watching the soup grow cold in her hands.
In the living room, Raph lounged on the couch, furiously button-mashing his controller while a boss fight blared on-screen. Donnie dropped onto the cushions beside him with a groan.
"This is so uncomfortable," he muttered. "She follows me everywhere. It's like I've got a giant, love-struck puppy trailing behind me."
Raph didn't take his eyes off the screen. "Now you know how April feels."
Donnie stiffened.
He opened his mouth to argue—finger raised, ready to retort—but the words didn't come. Instead, he stared at the doorway, guilt slowly creeping over his face.
Upstairs, Bigfoot sat alone on the farmhouse roof. The cool breeze tousled her hair as she whimpered softly, hugging her knees. Then she heard something below—voices.
Leo and Casey were near the porch, joking quietly.
"She's wearing makeup now," Leo said, amused. "And she keeps making soup for Donnie."
Casey tried to suppress a laugh. "Think she's his type?"
Leo chuckled. "Maybe after a shave!"
Their laughter died abruptly as they heard a noise above them. Bigfoot had heard every word. With a strangled whimper, she stood and leapt off the roof, running full speed into the woods.
"Bigfoot, wait!" Leo called out, but she was already gone.
Inside the house, Donnie sat on his bed, the soft creak of old wood the only sound aside from Mikey's snoring on the other side of the room. The music box rested in Donnie's hands, its delicate engraving catching the faint light from the window. His thumb hovered over the lid, hesitant.
He sighed.
Then—movement outside the window.
Donnie blinked and rushed over just in time to see a large figure sprinting toward the treeline. It was Bigfoot—arms flailing, tears glinting in the moonlight as she disappeared into the woods.
"Bigfoot?" he whispered, startled.
The front door banged open as he and Mikey shot down the stairs. Elliot, who had just come in from the hallway with Cat at his side, startled as the two turtles blew past him.
"What the—?" Elliot began, but Cat clutched his sleeve and pointed urgently toward the forest.
Donnie and Mikey didn't stop.
Leo and Casey were already outside by the time they reached the porch, their postures stiff with guilt, faces shadowed in shame.
"What is wrong with you guys?!" Mikey snapped, furious. "She just wanted to be accepted!"
Casey looked down at the ground. "We didn't mean to hurt her feelings..."
"She heard you," Donnie said tightly, not breaking stride. "Bigfoot! Wait up!"
He and Mikey ran into the trees, voices rising above the rustling leaves.
Back on the porch, Leo exhaled, shoulders tense.
Inside, Elliot lingered by the door, watching the scene quietly. Cat stood beside him, eyes downcast, arms crossed as she pressed herself into the wall.
Donnie and Mikey scoured the woods, ducking beneath low branches and weaving through the trees as they searched for their missing guest.
"Bigfoot?" Donnie called, scanning the underbrush. "Come on, where'd you go?"
Suddenly, a rustle of movement ahead.
"There!" Mikey pointed. "I see her!"
The brothers charged forward—only to slam straight into a dummy lashed to a tree.
Donnie's eyes widened. "What the—huh?"
Before they could react, the ground beneath them gave way. A net yanked both turtles into the air, flipping them upside down. A second later, something struck the back of Donatello's head, and everything went black.
Mikey groaned as he stirred, swaying in the net like a turtle-shaped piñata.
"Puppies..." he mumbled deliriously. "Too many puppies... AAH!"
His eyes popped open. "Donnie, I just had the worst dream about—"
"We've been captured," Donnie muttered, glaring down at the scruffy, sharp-toothed man below them. "The Finger."
"I ain't got no room on the cart for these two, Mama," the hunter declared, loading a dart into his oversized crossbow. "Looks like The Finger's gonna have to stuff 'em right here."
Donnie shot Mikey a look. "I've got an idea. Follow my lead."
"Hey, Finger!" he shouted. "Your mama looks like a raisin!"
Finger's head jerked around, twitching. "What'd he say about me, Mama?"
Mikey caught on. "Your mama's so wrinkly, she looks like one of those little dogs—with all the folds!"
"A Shar-pei?" Finger growled.
"Yeah! That!"
Donnie grinned. "Your mama's a shrunken head!"
"SHUT UP!" Finger roared. "DESTROY THEM!"
He fired—but Donnie twisted mid-air and broke free, landing with a solid thud and slicing Mikey loose with his bo staff.
"Bad move, The Finger."
Darts flew. Trees shook. Donnie lunged, Mikey rolled, and chaos exploded through the forest.
"You got skills, Finger!" Mikey yelped as he flung a pinecone like it might do something.
Donnie clashed with the hunter, staff meeting branch in a vicious crack. Finger tackled him hard into the dirt.
Mikey jumped onto Finger's back—only to be thrown into a tree like a ragdoll.
Donnie groaned beneath him. "This is gonna hurt..."
And it did.
Finger came down like a wrecking ball. Donnie gasped, pinned.
"You can't beat The Finger!" the man yelled, triumphant. "He's too strong for y—"
WHACK.
Something struck him from the side. A blur of motion. Finger stumbled back, clutching his face.
Mari stood nearby, panting, her fists wrapped in makeshift bandages, streaked with blood and fresh bruises.
She didn't say a word. Her glare said enough.
"Huh?!" Finger hissed. "What is it with you turtle freaks—?!"
He barely finished before Mari tackled him, slamming him back against a tree. He managed to shove her off, just barely, and raised his crossbow—aimed for Bigfoot, still tangled in a nearby net.
"If The Finger's goin' down, he's takin' Bigfoot with him!"
Donnie struggled to sit up. "Hey, Finger—how many more explosive bolts you got in that quiver?"
Finger turned to him, sneering. "Forty-two."
THUNK.
A dart hit his pack.
Boom.
The chain reaction of explosions burst like fireworks from his gear. Finger shrieked as he was launched into a nearby swamp, landing with a wet splat.
Still tangled in the net, Bigfoot whimpered. Finger crawled up, dazed, and aimed the crossbow toward her—then froze.
"...Bigfoot's a lady?" he said, staring at the blush on her cheeks and the flower tucked in her fur. "The Finger can't shoot no lady! The Finger's sorry, Mama! He didn't know!"
He burst into tears.
"I'm a lady," Mari muttered.
Bigfoot gently stepped from the net and approached him, eyes soft.
"There, there," she murmured, scooping him into a hug. "It am be okay."
Finger sobbed against her shoulder as she rocked him like a child.
"Bigfoot take care sad mans," she whispered.
Then, without another word, she cradled him in her arms and carried him off into the woods.
Silence.
Donnie, Mikey, and Mari all stared.
"...What just happened?" Mikey finally asked.
Mari sighed, wiping her bleeding knuckles on her pants. "I came here to punch trees, not watch Bigfoot fall in love." She side eyed Donnie. "Again, I mean."
The next morning, the air was crisp and cool, dew still clinging to the long grass outside the farmhouse. April stood behind the barn, chopping firewood with steady, precise swings. The rhythmic crack of the axe echoed through the quiet, broken only by the occasional chirp of distant birds.
Donatello approached, hands fidgeting at his sides, his voice barely above a murmur. "Hey, April."
She paused mid-swing and looked over her shoulder. "What's up, Donnie?"
He shifted awkwardly, glancing at the ground. "I, um... I just wanted to let you know I won't be bothering you with music boxes anymore. I get it now." He gave a soft, sad chuckle. "Donnie is to April as Bigfoot was to Donnie. I'm just... a mutant."
April stared at him for a moment. The axe dropped to her side.
"You're not just a mutant, Donnie," she said softly. She stepped forward, her gaze gentle. "You're my mutant."
And before he could say another word, she leaned up and kissed him. A soft, brief press of lips—real, warm, and quietly certain.
Then she turned and walked away without another word, heading back toward the house.
Donnie stood frozen, eyes wide, lips parted in shock. He blinked once. Twice.
"I understand... nothing..." he whispered.
But a small, stunned smile slowly tugged at the corners of his mouth.
Footsteps approached from behind. Heavy. Familiar.
Mari.
"You kissed my brother," Mari said, stopping a few feet away.
April paused, wiped the sweat from her brow, and turned slowly. "Yeah," she said. "I did."
Mari's arms crossed. Her knuckles were already red. "You sure that was smart?"
April blinked. "Excuse me?"
Mari shrugged, tone too casual to be honest. "Just saying. He's sensitive. You mess him up, he won't bounce back from it."
April's jaw tightened. "I'm not trying to 'mess him up.' I care about him."
"Do you care about him in that way? Cuz to me, it doesn't seem like it."
April's head snapped up at that, eyes narrowing.
Mari didn't stop. "You're not thinking straight. None of us are. Everything's broken and you're out here playing house—"
"I'm sorry, are you judging me for having a moment of happiness?" April snapped, stepping forward. "While you're out here playing self-appointed bodyguard for everyone? Like always?"
Mari didn't flinch. "Yeah, because someone has to. Someone has to clean up the messes when you don't think things through."
April's temper flared. "Oh, like when you brought Jackson into the lair?"
Mari froze.
April instantly regretted it — but the words were already hanging in the air like poison.
"That's what I thought," Mari muttered, her voice suddenly flat.
"Mari—" April started, guilt creeping in.
But Mari didn't wait.
She turned, fists clenched at her sides, and stormed off toward the woods.
To punch more trees.
