Alexei caught the package of bear mean and stared down like it had asked for his social security number. "Raw bear. How did you know it was my favorite?"

"Figured we should eat before someone else tries to interrupt," Sera shrugged like it was no big deal. "How do you feel about bear tartare?"

Lachlan’s grin snapped on full. "I feel like you’ve been holding out on us, which I respect deeply. Also, yes."

Zubair’s eyes came off the door long enough to cut to her hand and back to her face. His attention always felt like heat. Not burning. Just there.

Elias already had a plan. He set a dented pan from one of the walls on a chunk of broken concrete like a stove and glanced at Zubair.

A coin of flame bloomed under the pan—tight, blue at the core. The metal warmed and started to sing.

"True farm-to-table," Alexei observed, straight-faced. "People would pay hundreds for a meal like this at a restaurant."

"Field-to-mouth," Lachlan corrected.

"Crash-to-gut," Elias finished, laying the meat down with steady hands.

The smell hit fast—fat on hot iron, wild and rich. It curled around the barn and pushed some of the rot out.

Sera leaned on one of the bales of hay half scattered around the barn and let the sound and smell anchor everything.

She wasn’t waiting for permission anymore. She wasn’t stressing about getting an A to make her father proud. She was hungry, and she had food, and her... horde was here.

"Where did you even get bear?" Lachlan asked, shamelessly sniffing.

"The cabin," Sera said. "Before we left Country N. I’m pretty sure that Alexei and I took that one out. But I could be wrong"

"Of course," Alexei said. "You and I are the perfect team. I’m just glad that you had it on hand after all this time."

She stared Alexei down, her eyes never leaving his face as she held out her right hand. Without any warning, a bottle and two shakers appeared out of thin air. "Salt, pepper, chili oil. Try not to embarrass yourselves."

Elias hid a smile and shook salt with a steady hand. "We have no fuel for the pan besides him," he said, tipping his chin at Zubair without looking away from the meat, "so conserve heat. Quick sear. Rest. No more than medium-rare."

Lachlan blinked at him. "You quoting a cookbook at the end of the world?"

"Bacteria doesn’t care about the end of the world," Elias said, perfectly serious. "Neither does trichinella. If we undercook bear and get sick, we’ll waste time."

"Sexy," Alexei murmured. "Tell me more about trichinella."

"Eat your food," Elias replied pointing to the food.

Zubair adjusted the flame without being asked. Sera watched the way he did it—small movement, precise, the control that lived in his hands without effort.

He didn’t look up, but he felt her looking; the edge of his mouth softened by a hair.

Luci rolled onto his side and shoved his nose under Sera’s hand. She scratched between his ears. His tail thumped once and then stilled again. Guarding while adored. He had the best job.

"Do I even want to know where you are hiding all those condiments in your hospital gown?" Alexei asked, inspecting the chili oil like it might be booby-trapped, "because I can barely get one of those things to hide my ass, let alone chili oil?"

"What can I say?" Sera purred, looking up at him from under her eyelashes. "I’m just full of surprises."

Lachlan clapped once. "Hasn’t anyone ever taught you never to look a gift horse in the mouth? Be grateful, or I will take your share. I’m starving."

Elias flipped the meat with a flat, quick motion. The sear threw a hiss and an answer of smoke. "Two more minutes."

Zubair’s gaze slid to Sera again. "Anything else in there we should know about?"

"Yes," she replied with a nod. It was honest and not an invitation. "You’ll see it when you need it."

"Of course, Pudding Cup," he chuckled. "I can’t wait."

She didn’t need to be small for them. She didn’t need to twist herself into someone nicer or safer. They had watched her paint walls with people who deserved it, and they were still here, uncowed, unafraid, and apparently hungry.

Elias cut the first piece and handed it to her without asking. It wasn’t a ritual; it was a fact. Sera ate first.

She bit in.

Hot juices ran across her tongue. The flavor hit—iron and smoke and the ghost of pine—and the creature hummed approval in her ribs like bass in a car door.

She swallowed and didn’t apologize for enjoying it.

Zubair watched that swallow like it put something right in him. He didn’t move, but everything in him leaned closer.

Alexei accepted his slice next and sniffed it like a critic. "I think you make it taste better than it actually is," he grunted, his eyes never leaving Sera’s.

"Try it with the chili," Sera said, flicking the lid with her thumb.

He did. His eyebrows went up the smallest amount—high praise.

Lachlan reached in and fished a piece out bare-fingered. Elias slapped his knuckles.

"I swear I washed my hands," Lachlan protested.

"In what sink?" Alexei snorted.

Zubair lifted the pan a fraction, brought the heat down a notch, and set it back like he was adjusting the sun.

"Make sure to drink some water," Elias ordered, handing the water bottle back to Sera. "You need to make sure that you stay hydrated."

Sera hummed and took a drink before handing it to Alexei.

The five of them ate standing or half-sitting, weapons within reach, but no one wound tight.

The barn boards shifted in the wind and made old wood sounds. Dust motes spun in sunlines cutting the open roof. The world outside stayed where it was supposed to.

Sera reached for a second piece and didn’t pretend she wasn’t first again. No one made a joke of it.

They knew why the first bite landed with her. It wasn’t about weakness. It was about center of gravity.

"After this," Elias said, wiping his fingers and stacking the salt, pepper, tape, and cup back into neat, deliberate order, "we should move southeast. We’ll pick up the big river and use it to navigate. If we keep it on our left, we can’t lose direction."

"Finally," Alexei said dryly. "A landmark that does not lie."

"Do we have to cross it?" Lachlan asked. "I’m anti-swim after the last time."

"We’ll find a bridge or a ford," Elias said. "Or we build something."

"Or Zubair parts the water," Alexei suggested. "He is already Moses with more arson."

Zubair didn’t take the bait. He looked at Sera instead. "You choose when we move."