Nyx sat alone in the overstuffed staff room, savouring the silence. The ancient fridge hummed. A mouse had died somewhere. No one could find it, so they were stuck with the sickly sweet scent of rot until it decayed to nothing. The clanking fan on the countertop did its best to circulate the humid air, but only served to swirl around the stench.

God, I need a cigarette.

The thoughts circling in her head dragged her body down. The day had seemed as if it would never end, but now it was over, she didn’t want to go home either. Even the green flannel draped around her elbows was too heavy.

What on earth was Angel thinking last night? Probably nothing at all as usual.

Sighing, she got up from the small Formica table. The overhead fluorescent light flickered. Ticking. Nyx went to her locker and pulled off the flannel, then looking over her shoulder at the empty room, just to be sure, she yanked her crop-top up over her head, then stepped out of her cargo shorts. She stuffed the bundle of clothes into the locker.

A sharp ripple tip-toed up her spine. She gasped a delicate exhale as the sensation tingled through her limbs. A lit firecracker ignited each vertebra. Nyx folded inward. Dissolving. Her human form faded away. It dissipated in glittering sparks, disappearing like mist, leaving a lithe red fox in its place.

In this new shape, the stench of death worsened. The colour was all but drained from the world, leaving it in greying hues of faded green and a palette of white and grey. Instead, it came alive through sound and scent. The incessant roar of the fridge and clanking of the fan became a crescendo.

Nyx’s senses only altered when in her fox body. She didn't know how Angel tolerated the onslaught of sensations on such a constant basis. No wonder it was hard for him to focus if he were being pulled in so many directions at once.

Now to get that mouse.

She followed the scent behind the fridge, her little paws clicking on the linoleum. It led her to the back of the fridge. Scrunching up the best she could, she compacted her body until she could fit through the gap. The smell was at its worst here. Then she saw it. A small grey body hung limp over the coils. She pawed at it until it came loose, scrapping it across the floor, backing up until they were both out in the open.

There. I’ll pick it up tomorrow. No way I’m putting that thing in my mouth.

Nyx didn’t bother to shift back. Instead, she nosed the break room door open and padded through the darkened market. All the display cases and shelves of produce towered above her. The main doors would be locked, but a window near the back was propped open a crack with a chunk of wood.

She hopped up onto a stack of boxes until she could reach, then slipped through the window into the alley. The evening air was brisk, the nearby ocean brought in a slight cold snap. Nyx padded out toward the road. She emerged into the village-core; A single street with shops, including the market, and public service buildings lined either side. The centerpiece was the gas station on one side, and the town hall on the other. The buildings were all made of wood, almost resembling cabins themselves. This time of year, all the flower beds under the shop windows were in full bloom, inviting butterflies and bees. Mutants hurrying to and from the buildings shuffled past her. Some nodded or waved at her in acknowledgment.

The shift had taken the edge off, but her chest still ached. Earlier that afternoon, Timmy had come in to buy some ice packs and aspirin for his black eye and busted lip, gladly telling her how he had acquired them. When he told her what happened to Angel, her heart had sunk. Every vein in her body ran cold.

Why he’d brag about cheating at a fight is beyond me. The idiot probably thought I’d be impressed. What an asshole. I wish Angel would stop this nonsense. Would it kill him to have a quiet night in? To keep his head down for a bit?

If she were to be honest with herself, she actually thought it might. She’d never seen him be still.

No, that’s not true. Not quite.

Whenever he played guitar, he’d become so quiet. A calm would overcome him. Something so magical and precious to witness like a butterfly on the tip of a finger. She’d almost forget to breathe.

Nyx turned down a side street to the more residential section of the village. She bounded through the community garden and sprinted through shortcuts, weaving around brightly painted cabins. Grasshoppers scattered. She sprinted through backyards, accidently disrupting chickens in their runs and startled dogs. Eventually, she reached home.

Her parent’s squat grey cabin slouched into the tall grass. She waded through the weeds and padded up the rotting deck stairs, and slipped through the puppy-door. Immediately, the raucous laughter of a sitcom greeted her sensitive ears along with her father’s boisterous laughter. Dishes sloshed around in the kitchen at the end of the hall where her mother washed them in the sink. The warm, greasy scent of rotisserie chicken clung to the air and she was sorry to have missed it.

Nyx poked her head around the archway. Her father, Jay, had his long legs stretched out, feet up on the coffee table. His blond hair kept shaggy around his ears, sprigging in multiple directions. Jay smiled when he saw her. Crows feet crinkled around the edges of his sparkling emerald eyes.

“I was just about to send out a search party when you missed supper,” he said.

She wagged her tail in acknowledgment, unable to properly answer.

“Nyx? That you?” Her mother, Molly, called from the kitchen. “I saved some leftovers for you.”

She trilled a response, but more than anything, she craved peace and quiet. She bounded up the stairs to her bedroom, away from the noise of television. Nyx nudged the bedroom door open, slipped inside then snapped it closed.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

The walls had been painted salmon pink when she was five and stayed that way. Glow in the dark stars lined the wall across from her bunk bed. They soared over Cassie’s collage of polaroid's stuck to a corkboard. They displayed landscapes, wildlife, random pets and candid shots of Nyx, Alistair and Angel.

Nyx shifted back into her human form and rummaged through her dresser for something to wear. The white paint had begun to chip and it was still coated in the random assortment of stickers she had collected over the years. Humidity made her tan skin shimmer with sweat, making her short pink hair hang limp around her jaw.

She slipped on a pair of green cotton shorts. The bedroom door creaked open and Nyx quickly covered her bare chest with a squeal, before noticing it was her triplet sister.

“Holy fuck, Cass! How many times do I have to tell you to knock first!”

“Why? It’s my room too,” she said, flopping onto the bottom bunk. Her long green braids draped over her shoulders. They’d begun to come loose in soft wisps.

“Because it’s the polite thing to do you maniac.” Nyx pulled on a graphic t-shirt she’d stolen from Angel, then glared at her sister.

Cassie now sat on the edge of the bed, crossing her legs. Her cropped white camisole exposed her belly-button ring. Body glitter shimmered on her upper chest and stuck on gems decorated the outer edges of her eyes. Nyx immediately recognized her shade of red lipstick.

“Wait. Is that mine?” she demanded, her hands on her hips.

Cassie batted her false eyelashes. “What?”

“My lipstick?”

“I just borrowed it a tiny bit. I don’t smear it on like you do. I’m dainty.”

“Dude, it’s almost gone. Stay out of my stuff!”

“Girls!” Molly yelled up the stairs, “Quit fighting!”

“Yeah, quit it,” Cassie grumbled, narrowing her green eyes. She tilted her head back then yelled, “Mom! She’s picking on me!”

“Nyx! Be nice to your sister!”

“Ugh!” Nyx exclaimed and marched out, slamming the door behind herself and stormed down the stairs.

I gotta get the fuck out of here.

Nyx barged down the hall, through the kitchen and out onto the back deck. Cricket song greeted her. The fresh salt air soothed her if only a little. The sun was nearly gone now, leaving a clear navy blue sky. Moths swarmed the dull porchlight. She slumped into one of the patio chairs.

This is getting ridiculous.

The patio door slid open and Alistair stepped outside, a cigarette already pressed between his fingers. He held the pack out to her in his other hand. “I figured you’d need one.”

“I knew there’s a reason you’re my favorite brother.” She grinned up at him, slipping a cigarette out of the box.

“You don't have a choice,” he said, sliding into the seat beside her.

Nyx lit her own cigarette then passed him the lighter. They sat in silence for a long while. Alistair leaned back, his long arms draped casually over the side of the chair as he puffed out smoke rings. Eventually, the stars appeared in the darkening sky. Alistair dug around in the pocket of his jeans and retrieved a plump joint. Twisting it between his thumb and forefinger, he held it out to her and she took it.

The thick smoke choked her for a second, she coughed, eyes watering. Alistair laughed.

“Been awhile?”

“Too long,” she gasped. Gradually, her body relaxed and she passed the joint over. “How bad was it? The fight?”

“I’ve seen worse.”

“Alice, come on. He got stabbed for glory’s sake,” she said, trying to keep her voice low so their parents couldn’t hear. They’d since moved into the kitchen for a game of cards. It was only a matter of time before word really got around anyway, especially considering Timmy’s big mouth. As a squirrel shifter, the boy sure could chitter.

Alistair took a hit off the joint. “It wasn’t great, but he’s ok. Honest.”

“Maybe next time he won’t be so lucky. This has to end.”

“I know.”

“Well what do we do?”

“What can we do? He’s his own man. We can’t stop him.”

“We can stop enabling him,” she grumbled, folding her arms. “Maybe he has to fall on his face for a second.”

“Don’t be cruel,” Alistair said, fidgeting with one of his earrings.

“I said for a second. He’s out of control.”

“What else is new?”

Nyx narrowed her eyes. A lump formed in her throat, the heaviness in her chest thrusting it forward. “What if he dies, Alice? What then, huh?”

“Oh, he’s not gonna die.” Alistair waved his hand, but the flicker in his eye told her that he may not be so sure.

You’re scared too. This is as bad as it’s ever been.

Picturing life without him was too much to bare.

“Maybe I should move in with him? Maybe then I could keep him on track. He might settle down a bit if he can’t just do whatever he wants all the time.”

Alistair burst into laughter. “Are you insane? He’d just take the party elsewhere. Face it, you’d go nuts living with him.”

Nyx drummed her fingers on the glass surface of the table. “I’m going nuts living here.” She sighed and took the joint back from Alistair. It was burned down to the filter, but she pulled out what she could. “When he moved out three years ago, I thought he’d take me with him then, but we were so young, ya know? So I understood why he didn’t ask me, but I’m getting sick of waiting.”

“You don’t have to,” Alistair said. “Look, you might have to -”

“No, not for real. Not forever.” She couldn’t breathe. “Maybe if I tell him to get it together or I’ll leave, then maybe he’ll -”

“First, it won’t work and you know it. You’ve gone on how many breaks and he hasn’t ever actually changed. It has to be for real. Second, you can’t fuck with him like that. You said so yourself, he’s gotta fall on his face, but you wanna know what really scares me? That he’s gonna drag you down with him.”

She clenched her jaw. Alistair wasn’t wrong, but she couldn’t bear to agree.

“Does Angel ever talk about me?” she asked.

“Of course he does.”

“No, like, talk about me.” Her cheeks burned and she hoped it was dark enough for Alistair not to notice. “Does he tell you how he feels about me?”

“Nyx -”

“Please.”

“No.”

“Oh,” she hung her head. Pressure formed in her throat and she swallowed around it.

Why did I ever think he’d want me to move in with him? He’ll never be serious.

“Don’t take it personally.” Alistair reached out and gently took her hand. His calluses were comforting. They reminded her of their father. “I’m sure he loves you as much, if not more than he’s capable of ever loving anyone. He just doesn’t talk about that sort of thing. Look, if you want to move in with him, you gotta be the one to ask. I think it’s a bad idea, but I support you. Hey, you never know, you might be right. Maybe it could be a good thing? It's worth a shot, and you can always come home.”

“Yeah,” she muttered. “Maybe I’ll try.”