Spongy dead grass burbled with each step across the lawn. The air was cool, but not intolerable in Sam's light layers. Aidan took a long sip from his mug; he stood a handful of steps away, observing her taking her position, critiquing her stance. He seemed pleased to be on the sidelines for once.

Cain joined them a moment later. As he trotted down the steps he was hanging up a call, and a small smile lit his features. He cleared his throat and stopped a few feet ahead of her. Sunshine danced in his hair. The sweet breeze carried the faint scent of eucalyptus that always clung to his skin. He was light on his feet, like he'd gotten some good news. Who had he been talking with? Cain passed his phone to Aidan, who pocketed it.

"Show me what you've learned," Cain said without herald, arms crooked lightly but not rigid before him.

Sam hadn't had much practical experience with combat, just a few reserved scraps with Aidan. She was used to going on the defencive immediately since Aidan usually attacked right away. Cain wasn't moving; his eyes were level, stance relaxed but prepared. So she did the first thing she thought of. Not expecting success, she threw a simple punch aimed for his gut. All at once his hand closed over her own and she was pulled in. He leaned to the side, skirting her with ease, and she stumbled to regain her balance while he danced back. His thin smile incensed her.

Advancing again, she went for his arms just to see how he'd respond. Where Aidan caught her blows, Cain deflected or dodged. When she jabbed an elbow, a simple crescent sweep of his forearm moved her momentum away from target so only the slightest force made contact. Though he was much taller than she was, their weights were somewhat more evenly matched compared to the mountain keeping watch.

At first she had been nervous to accidentally hurt him, but she quickly dropped that notion. Even when she did strike him, she was immediately countered and either knocked back, or bruised. Every failure spurred her on. She kept herself low and curled inward in hopes of preventing another grab. It did help, but it also clearly limited her options. She couldn't swing as wide, and Cain took advantage of this. Rather than redirecting her attacks away from him, he did his best to block and push her arms down or out, exposing her centre. She wasn't used to this tactic. Though she succeeded in making full contact, it was merely for him the cost of breaking her defences. Cain struck a solid punch to her right ribs, forcing air from her lungs.

Skipping back, he asked, "Are you good?"

She didn't bother answering and came at him again. One good punch wasn't going to stop her. That said, she did want to stop; getting punched wasn't fun at all, but a fire burned within and those calculated volleys fuelled it.

This time she tried using her shoulders instead; her right hook ended in his palm, but before he could finish yanking her past, she threw her weight into the momentum, slamming her shoulder into his chest. A gratifying oof made her grin, but only for a second, as Cain recovered before she had even cleared him, and he wrapped her in his arms and then threw her into the muck.

The cold surface shocked her alert. She scrambled to her feet and regained her positioning, trying to ignore the grime on her. Cain flexed his fingers. He lunged for her, and she dove out of the way, doing a graceless tumble through the mud. Not her finest manoeuvre, but it got the job done. Sam was on her feet again before Cain was done correcting his momentum. He smirked. The dance continued, tension mounting the longer their spar was on hold. She lowered her centre of gravity. Cain had reach, and she wanted to be as slippery as possible.

Cain grew tired of playing defencive. Three quick strikes connected with her forearms just hard enough to smart. As much as she wanted to retreat, she knew the opposite was the better decision. Her power was in her elbows, so she stepped close, leading with her left, but immediately he deflected it and took a step back. She tried again, and again as he stepped out of her reach with a coy smile.

Fine, she would try something else. The instant her stance changed, Cain was in her face again trying to jab her ribs, her gut. Surprise stopped her thinking, and she did whatever she could to stop those strikes from landing. She succeeded, for the most part, but a couple of good hits landed on her ribs. The rest she blocked or deflected with clumsy arms. She did get in a few good hits of her own, and with each a little glee burst within.

Aidan never went easy on her when they actually sparred, so to be somewhat evenly matched was an exciting change. Of course she knew Cain could have knocked her out whenever he wanted. She wasn't particularly good yet, but he actually seemed to feel her strikes, unlike Aidan.

As they each grew to understand the movement of the other, Cain began to dial up his attempts, and she did her best to keep up. She was beginning to feel the exertion, and the bruises. Sam threw one forearm up to deflect his right fist, planning to call it quits in a moment, when she had the inkling of a good idea. She seized it, and when he followed up with his left, she slipped between them and bashed him with her shoulder. He staggered a few steps, and she swept her leg at the backs of his knees.

Splat!

Cain's eyebrows rose, crinkling his forehead, and he burst out laughing. He examined the muck on one arm as his shoulders shook. Sam glanced to Aidan and caught the brief pride there before he dissolved into laughter as well. She couldn't help joining in. Aidan heaved Cain to his feet, and she tried to get herself under control.

"Well done," said Cain, offering a muddy palm, and they shook. "You saw an opening and took it. Rely on that instinct."

Aidan chuckled and nudged Cain's shoulder. "You should have seen the look on your face. I'm never going to forget it."

"I won't go easy on you next time," Cain joked to her. He held his dripping arms out at his sides and said, "Well, we're both a mess, what do you say to a run?"

"Definitely."

Sam had a small clearing of her own started some twenty metres from the others. It wasn't big yet, but she hoped that by the time the green began to spread that she would have a flat, plush spot to kneel on. For now, it was just cold and damp and covered in brown pine needles.

The curtain of her hair blocked out the world and glowed like clouds in a sunset. The familiar tingle spread through her chest, down her limbs, and she shut her eyes on a deep breath. Though she was cold, the sun on her back had a pleasant heat to it. Right, focus on the shift. She took steady breaths and released her thoughts.

Purples blues, reds danced behind her eyes. At first pleasant, they became all too familiar. Her right knee dislocated, then her left, and for once she was grateful for the blooming agony. As soon as it peaked, she could hear music. Not hear, exactly, since it was all in her head, but the memory was so vivid she was nearly immersed in it. Pumped Up Kicks. How could she ever forget it? She felt the bass thumping behind her, beyond the closed gym doors, a weak attempt at restraining the cacophony. She used to love that song ...

"No!" she hissed through tight lips.

With all her might she held onto the trembling elastic that threatened to snap her back into reality. Her nose was painfully tight against her skull, and her lips were splitting in spots over her half-formed jaw. All she could hear was the steady bass line and her thundering pulse. She couldn't do both at once, and she was not going into that memory yet. Throw anything else at her first, but not that yet.

It seemed to hear her plea. The music faded, and a different memory took its place, and in comparison it was entirely tolerable on top of the reshaping of her entire body. She was just relieved to have more time before she had to face that moment. The one that took its place happened a couple of hours before that event, and while it was traumatizing at the time, she had learned to live with it pretty well. Meaghan, from her history class, got her bracelet caught in Sam's linen dress, and being a bit tipsy, she decided to give it a great tug rather than detach it manually. In front of most of the school, with maybe a dozen paying attention, her dress ripped open. She was wearing undergarments, thankfully, or the memory would likely have been a helluva lot worse. Regardless, she was mortified and ran off to the washroom. It cut out before the resolution, probably because that part was a particularly good memory.

The washroom had been surprisingly full. A few people were drinking under the cracked open window. A few others were at the sinks fixing their hair and makeup. A couple others were just hanging out, she wasn't sure why. All of them saw her burst in clutching her dress shut, mascara running—she hadn't yet learned the waterproof lesson. She locked herself in a stall, freaking out, feeling the world crashing down on her.

Oh, to be a teenager with such simple concerns again.

Someone knocked on the stall door and said softly, "Are you okay? Do I have to murder someone tonight?"

Their words made her laugh through the tears. "No, it was an accident, but I flashed everyone."

A soft chorus of chuckles made her feel a little better. They asked to come in; they had a tiny sewing kit handy and offered to help. Sam was just going to ask for the sewing kit, since she could do it herself, but she sort of lost her nerve when she opened the door.

Mel was incredibly handsome, and Sam had had something of a crush on them since she joined the track team. They didn't talk much, mostly just at practises and meets. So yeah, she shut her trap and let them in. They sewed up her dress while talking about their summer plans, normal topics which helped calm her down. Then they cradled Sam's cheeks, swiped away the inky tracks, and kissed her. It was only her second, technically. Her actual first was just a silly little peck, so she considered this one her first. It was nice, not her best work, but enjoyable, and completely meaningless. Mel was pretty stoned, it was just a passing moment. It bothered her for a while until she learned to enjoy the singular moments such as that.

Sam shook off the fog, and the lingering aches and nausea. She was more exhausted than normal after a shift. That memory would kill her if it happened during another shift; perhaps she would try facing it on her own terms, maybe that would satisfy the wolf?

Aidan poked his nose around a shrub and whined lightly. Sam stretched out her stiff back legs and strolled around to meet them. How long had she been stuck like that? Cain had a slight pinch to his bushy brows, but it smoothed when she emerged in once piece. He got to his feet and led the way at a brisk trot. Sam fell in the middle, as usual, and Aidan brought up the rear.

Each step melted her anxiety until she was at peace with the steady rhythm of her paws in sync with her breathing. Her position gave her the freedom to examine her surroundings. She spotted chickadees in the lower branches, singing their three note songs to each other. She noticed the green buds on the tips of branches. Her mood was lifting steadily.

Cain ducked his head under some brambles forming a stout opening, and she followed into what was a stunning little clearing bisected by a crystal-clear stream. At the far side a small waterfall poured from a short cliff. Even with the dead vegetation, she could admire its beauty. There was even a willow nearby, thriving in the moist soil. They followed the stream until it grew into a small river deep enough to swim freely. Sam didn't hesitate to submerge herself, and the others weren't far behind. Her fur became heavy, but her powerful legs had no trouble keeping her up where it was too deep to touch. The water ran brown until the caked mud rinsed off their skin and fur.

Sam drank deeply before getting out completely. A great shake sent icy water flying in all directions. The vigorous movement woke her somewhat, but she was still eager to get back so she could get some rest.

Aidan and Cain weren't ready, though. Playful nips became an all-out play fight at the river's edge. She found a soft patch of ground to lay on and settled in, intending to learn what she could from observation. Cain pounced on Aidan, tugging on the loose scruff of his neck. Aidan in turn hit the ground and snapped at Cain's ankles. Soft play growls filled the clearing. When Cain tried to dash away, Aidan lunged and caught Cain's tail in his teeth, who in turn swung around to snap back. Aidan released him, and they took off along the perimeter.

Sam wanted to keep watching, but at some point, her eyes fell shut and she was watching greenery fly by on all sides.

After a long nap and a hot bath, she was feeling a little more like herself. The room was steamy and almost too hot. Sam towelled off and cracked the window, and then the door once she was dressed. She found a pair of scissors in a drawer and decided it was as good a time as any to take care of her split ends. She had done the task dozens of times, so even somewhat groggy, her hands got to work with ease.

Through the cracked door she noticed Aidan emerge from his room and stroll into the kitchen. He grabbed a pack of Oreos, then spotted her in the mirror.

"Hey, any bruises?"

"Just a couple, nothing too big." She took another section; she was more than half done.

"Do you normally cut your own hair?" he asked.

"Yeah, most of the time. Want me to do yours later?"

He grinned, eyeing a curl which now, even dry, hung below his brow. "Please."

Aidan returned to his room, and relative silence returned. The gentle snipping, the hum of the refrigerator, the clacking keys across the room blended into a soothing din. Sam could get used to living in a place like this. It sure did make going for runs a lot easier, and convenient.

Her thoughts shifted to Ada. She sent her a quick text to see if she was busy and followed up to say she would call her shortly. Sam wanted to tell her about her little victory that morning. The look on Cain's face was just too good not to share. She wished she had a picture.

Scissors poised over the damp ends of her hair, she froze, ears perked. Gravel crunched under tires, which would be fine if not for the fact that both cars were already in the driveway and they weren't expecting visitors. Through the cracked washroom door she saw Cain approach the window, and then blanch. Frantic eyes met Sam's. Her stomach lurched and the scissors clattered loudly in the sink.

"What's going on?" she rushed.

"Chase is here." The look they shared was brief, but full of apprehension. "Aidan's room, hurry."