For the first five minutes, music morphed with her dream and she danced while beating up an abusive husband. He judged her, and she did too, because it's ridiculous.

She punched and twirled, moving to a hot rhythm she'd heard before, many times.
What a stupid dream.

Her eyes opened with difficulty and Rosalina's voice reached her through the open window, singing along with other voices. Oh, Highford had to be the noisiest neighborhood in existence. And Libera had to be the city of music right in front of her window. A groan escaped her while she got up.

She peeked in time to see her neighbor twirling around, dancing to the typical rhythms of a well-known singer, born and raised in Highford. Rosalina was only fifty-five in years, because her appearance and spirit still soared as high as any teenager.

The band beating the drums around her had won some international award the week before, and the 1st street in Highford had to be where they'd celebrate. It was the district of dance, with the best dancing bars and an endless number of street performers, spreading their magic through the streets every day.

At least one day she could tell other people where she came from, mention how usual it was to turn street music into an alarm; how every house had red flowers in their garden to welcome performers and people with good intentions.

She moved her hips to the beat while she dressed, thoughts already jumping to the moment she'd sit at the table. An agonizing twist at her stomach almost stole her hunger, but Mama and Papa would question her anyway. If not at breakfast, then later. She could take it, and has been taking it for a long, long time.

It smelled nice. Mama enjoyed cooking, and her breakfasts were always huge, way too much for just the three of them. She'd often share it with the neighbors so it wouldn't go to waste. Jule learned not to question the amount of food she'd cook, otherwise she'd end up being questioned back.

"Good morning."
Papa sat at the table, his plate already filled with Creamy Breads. As he nodded, eyes squinting in her direction, she planned her way to avoid fights.

She'd eat if they didn't question, she'd go if they did.
"Good morning, lobita." The endearing term came with no strain. Great.

Mama dragged her slippers through the wooden floor, carrying a huge dish with sweet and sour pans.
"Oh, good morning!" Mama frowned. "You woke up early."

"That dance group who won something last week is outside."
"Oh, Rosalina called them." She pursed her lips, shaking her head. "Always ready to show off, that one."

"She's a dancer when she was young, right?"
"She was, but then she woke up." Mama sent her a quick glance before sitting. "Dancing doesn't pay for a house that size or puts food on a table with five children sitting on it."

"She seems pretty happy when she dances." Jule shoved the bread in her mouth right after she talked.
She had an exit plan and a sharp tongue, two things that didn't coexist well.
"Is empty happiness all there is to life? Or do you also need a roof over your head, food in your stomach and a positive reputation? Isn't that also happiness?"

Empty happiness. Whatever dreams were, Mama didn't consider them worthy. Besides the fact that dreams could also be useless without hard work, Rosalina's life defined enjoyment.

She'd danced outside of Pietra, had a collection of trophies to back up her claims about greatness, and even after settling down to marry, she still found time to do something she adores. But of course none of that mattered. May the Gods forbid people having dreams that don't involve high-paying jobs.

"I don't understand." Mama turned a bit in her chair, squinting at her. "You and Justa are so different."
Alright, the painful comparisons had arrived. Jule stood up, ready to leave.

"I'm leaving, I had a long night and I have an eight year-old who needs my help recovering from something."
"You always run out, perhaps you should listen!" Mama stood up too, shoulders so rigid they almost touched her ears.

She'd been a beautiful lady. She's still a beauty, but the crazy amount of stress she allowed herself to live in had destroyed any sort of spark from her eyes. Her thin mouth never relaxed, her steps never got lighter.

"I've listened to this a thousand times. I'm not accepting a job at Justa's beauty center." Jule attempted a soft tone. Arguments devastated their day-to-day, and tired her.

"So you want to starve? You want to keep... What is it that you do in that neighborhood?"
"Felina isn't just a neighborhood, we shelter and help women in need, we..."

Mama huffed, shoulders moving just the slightest.
"And can't you do all that in your free time? I think it's noble!" The begging look on her face was also a constant during these arguments. "It is, but it doesn't help you save money, and you're thirty..."

"Why do you keep trying, mama? Don't you already know my sister likes to live with her head in the clouds?"

Jule closed her eyes tight. Justa walked by and sat at the table, a sardonic smile adorning her lips. She had her brown hair down, which made them look so much alike. The amber tones of their eyes were the same. They could be twins. Even though she was five years older, she had never looked younger.

"I work hard so I can one day lay my head against my pillow and not regret a single day of my life." Jule levelled her tone, forbiding herself from arguing.

"I keep telling her to accept your offer, Justa, but..."
"I know," Justa waved a hand in dismissal "she has other dreams."

"I do." Jule grabbed her backpack and her keys.

Katara's pissed voice would nag at her ear for not accepting to live at Felina with them, even if just to avoid the fights. It was the logical thing to do, but she feared that if she left, she'd lose Mama and Papa for good. Even Justa. They'd been kids once, they'd adored each other.

"Then, I wish you the best in getting what you want. If you end up begging for food in the streets, the offer still stands." Justa shrugged when her mother gasped.

When Justa had been nothing more than someone's assistant, being a Felina warrior posed no threat to Jule's future. Her worth measured fine on their scale, and they were equals. As soon as Justa got up the ladder, Jule fell behind in every little thing. Still, she'd endured and wished her the best.

"I'm glad you're doing what you love, Justa."
"I'm also doing what you love."

An angry wave forced her to step back. Her dreams were her own, but she had shared them, once. She regretted pouring her heart out for Justa about her future plans.

"I'm gonna go, and you're not going to act as if you care enough about my professional dreams to mention that. Ever again."

Justa snickered, but she turned and slammed the door shut, right before the tears could run down.

A ragged breath escaped her as she walked fast, putting some distance between her and her toxic family. It'd been more than enough for one day.

The dancers still moved along the streets, and Rosalina called her, waving her arms. She had a black linen dress on and flat sandals, showing a couple of flowers tangled around her toes.

Jule allowed her to pull her into the circle. She closed her eyes, kicking whatever bad energy out, focusing on the beat of the drums. She laughed at Rosalina when the lady helped her twirl.

"Dance, loba, dance!"
She moved, swaying her hips to the beat, a playful and uncomplicated dance. Like a charm, it shook her worries off her shoulders, and she smiled at Rosalina.

No need to thank her, words didn't always express as much as the eyes.

"No more frowning!" Rosalina demanded, clapping to the beat and going back to her hipnotizing moves.

Jule walked away, appreciating the vibrant red flowers, the slight smell of roasted coffee from inside the houses.

There was life outside of a suffocating household.

"Something's wrong."
Bay Rodezo could be a nuisance, but she's pretty clever. Of course it didn't help that every little thing showed up on Jule's face, but still... Bay picked up on things with ease.

"Just the usual."
Bay smiled at a trader at the street fair, handling her a discreet card with the Felinae's location. In case they're ever in need.

Her brown skin shone bright under the sun, and her linen white top contrasted so well against her, people turned to stare. She had her brown hair up and divided in two braids. Jule groaned for not remembering to put her own hair up. And for bringing a jacket on a hot, Summer day.

"Justa has been nagging you again?"
"Yeah, she stopped by to tell me there's still a job for me when I end up begging on the streets."

Bay halted, eyeing her with indignation.
"You're a Felina warrior, it's because of you that an eight year-old will sleep better tonight." She shook her head and Jule shrugged. "How can she say that?"

"I don't think they understand what it means... Or what I am."
"Well, most people have forgotten." Bay's voice lowered, eyes fixed on Onza's name in the card. "It doesn't help that we aren't exactly an official governmental force, like the military."

"It's like we do illegal shit."
Bay hummed in agreement.

Every time the big, round planet Theya completed its turn around the sun, people forgot a little more about them. About the number of centuries they've been creating a better world for women.

They'd called them vigilantes, witches, opportunistic hags, but there's always at least one women who needed them. It's all for them.

"How about your beauty center? Does she know about that?"
Jule's mind searched Justa's early jab at her own dream, early.

"Yes. She mocked me about it. And it's not a beauty center. It's..."
"A rehabilitation center, you want to take care of the body and the mind." Bay smiled, nodding. "I remember."

Besides Justa, only her Felinae sisters knew about her dream. But unlike Justa, they understood.

They walked a little further in silence. The whole street smelled like fresh fruit, one of her favorite scents. Mangoes were in season, and endless boxes filled the stands.

Waccas, the blue birds characterized in Libera's flag flew nearby, their cunning eyes on the food. Jule smiled. A few more hours and she could see Polo, her own Wacca.

"Felinae!"
She turned faster than Bay, who's focused on haggling at a honey beer stand. A lady waved and smiled, waiting for them to get closer.

With a black head scarf keeping her hair away from her face, the woman with kind eyes invited them behind the stand, where another two women took care of the clients.

"You're the felinae, aren't you?" She said, bright blue eyes jumping from Jule to Bay. "My sister never been better, you saved her a few years ago from a bad, bad husband. Bad man."

"That's great to hear, that's why we do it." Bay smiled and accepted a box the woman shoved in her hands.

"She never got to pay, this is for you!" She threw fruit, vegetables and even a couple of linen dresses into the box. "It's not gold, but it's a symbol of my grattitude!"

"Oh, you don't need..."
Jule gave Bay a slight push to stop her.

Clearly, the last thing they should do was to tell that woman they didn't need any of her stuff.

"Thank you. May Onza bless you in double."
The woman's cheeks reddened slightly and she nodded, a few strands of golden hair escaping her scarf.

"I always tell my lobas," she waved behind her, to the other two women "if something happens, cross the river and seek for Felinae."
"A lot of people seem to have forgotten us and our goddess." Jule took the dresses from the box to help Bay.

The woman nodded, the smile shrinking.
"It's because governor Lucca loves his Gods, people love his Gods too. They don't remember lesser Gods, their time is spent working and praying to the three pillars of the Pantheon."

Yes. Cascal, the benevolent; Acícero, the warmonger. And Luciana, often called the goddess of women herself, but she was not. She was the goddess of fertility and marriage. That's all. She didn't protect shit.

Lucca Taylor had won the elections for governor with an absolute advantage over his opponent. He was young, handsome and had been blessed with a lot of gold, so he was studious. His campaign, of course, revolved around the less fortunate, promising a major focus on bigger salaries, international affairs and exportation.

He never hid his love for their Gods, inviting people to adore with him on the streets, from Westgate to Lisandra, all through Libera.

"We'll do our best to never erase Onza's deeds." Bay smiled, honest grattitude in her tone. She touched the woman's shoulders and asked something else about her products. Something about the daughters, too.

Jule unfocused long enough to control her anger. She did nothing for glory or acceptance, but a place where they could be more than vigilantes? That would transform them. They'd be more acessible to women, they'd no longer have to hide in the middle of the night while dropping criminals at the station, her parents would... Accept her.

Bay nudged her shoulder and she thanked the woman once more, before leaving.

"We gotta do something." Jule shook her head.

They were powerful and insignificant at the same time.
They were hope, but invisible.

All the work they did couldn't be called work, no matter how many lives they changed.

Bay huffed and glanced at her, thick lips pursing slightly.
"We are doing something. In fact, there's a new mission waiting for us at home."