“This is what you’ve got to look forward to,” Nif’s father whispered.

He was sitting by the hospital window, his white and silver hair a bird’s nest and his signature grampa vest bundled under her mother’s head, which rested heavily on his delicate shoulder. The snores were not just coming from her.

Closer, by Nif’s elbow, was the shaggy-haired head of Oliver, resting on the hospital bed and snoring as if he and her mother were competing.

“How long have I been asleep?’ Nif asked her father, her fingers reaching out to stroke Oliver’s messy hair.

“Almost three days,” her father admitted.

“Three days!” Her shriek woke her mother and Oliver, both jerking upright and to their feet, hands already shifting into paws before they realised where they were.

“You’re awake,” Oliver said. He shuffled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck and Nif noticed he had a bandage wrapped around his throat and others peaked from beneath his loose knit jumper.

“Thank goodness! We thought you’d sleep for the rest of the year!” Her mother smoothed Nif’s hair from her face, oddly intimate for a woman who was only touchy feely in her shift form. “You’re at the St Charlotte’s Private Hospital. Your boss insisted on only the best and as you should after all you’ve been through.”

Nif took stock of herself. Her wrist was in a cast, no surprise there, and the calf and knee of her right leg were both bangaged and strapped so she couldn’t move it at all. She felt like a bruised peach. Her entire body felt sore and had the unpleasant sticky feeling of not having had a proper shower for a few days. Her teeth were fuzzy and her tongue felt huge in her mouth.

She was in a private room, the walls a pale green, and along one wall were vases full of bright blooms: slightly droopy sun flowers, rainbow gerberas, pale pink roses. There was the slight floral scent peeking from beneath the heavy duty smell of hospital cleaners.

“Can I have some water?” Nif asked and all three leapt to their feet to do her bidding. Her father got to her first, clearly more awake than the other two.

“You’ll be right as rain in a few days,” her dad said. “Your wrist is broken in two different places and they had to perform surgery to realign everything properly, but it should heal fine. Your calf needed over a hundred stitches but thankfully no nerve damage and your knee is sprained so you won’t be walking on it for at least six weeks. You’re very lucky, actually. The wounds across your chest –” He had to be referring to the claw marks Stella had left. “They’re fairly shallow and only required a few stitches. You’ve got some deep bone bruising in your face and a few teeth are a little loose, but the doctor said to just be careful what you eat for the next few weeks and they should be fine.”

Nif prodded gently at her cheek and wince, the whole area flaring white hot.

“Oww.”

“That’s why you don’t prod it! Seriously, Nif,” her mother reprimanded, but Nif recognised the relief in her mother’s voice.

“Did they catch them all?” Stella’s still body and Dougie’s howl as he realised his big sister was dead would haunt Nif’s dreams for some time to come.

“Yeah, they did, Nifty-Nif” her dad said. “The two youngest –”

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“Dougie and Oscar,” Nif interjected.

“Well, they handed themselves in after the two older brothers, Baskerville and Daz, were taken into custody.”

“Baskerville is pretty messed up,” Oliver said, somehow managing to look both smug and guilty. “He may never walk again.”

“Good,” Nif spat. “He deserves it after what he did to Morris and the others. He should live with the reminder of what he’s done for the rest of his life.”

No one in the room could disagree.

“But what about Dougie?” I asked. “He’s just a kid really. I’m not sure if he really had a chance to be anything other than what his brothers wanted him to be. I can’t help imagining him being a sweet kid if he’d grown up somewhere else.”

“There will be a trial for them all, but I suspect he’d be charged as a juvenile,” her mum explained and hesitated. “But I wouldn’t feel too much sympathy, dear, as I doubt he’d have any for you. You did kill his sister. I’d feel much better if he was locked up with the rest of his brothers.”

“Mum! That’s awful!”

The bear-shifter sniffed and shrugged. “After what they all did to you and those poor others, they should be locked up forever, no excuses.”

“The courts will decide on appropriate punishments,” her father said and began to usher her mother out the door. “We’ll leave you be for a bit. I’m sure you want to have a chat with this young man without your parents hovering. Sapha says ‘hi’ and she’ll probably sneak in after hours to see you. Your other friends will be by soon, too. They left all the flowers.”

“If you’re tired of publishing, you could open a florist!” Oliver whispered.

“Thanks, Mum and Dad.”

“We’ll just be trying to swallow down what they pass for food at the hospital canteen.” Her mother’s face was twisted into strong distaste.

“You could try To Bean or Not to Bean? They’re not far from the hospital and you could bring me back a muffin!”

Her mother was reluctant, not wanting to go too far, but her dad nodded eagerly.

“It’ll be good to get some fresh air. Come on, dear. Let’s leave these two love birds to themselves for a bit.”

After her parents left, Nif glanced out the window – blue skies that promised a cold night –, the floor – speckled brown and white like a bird’s egg –, and her blanket – the weave chunky yet soft between her fingers. She could feel Oliver’s gaze on her, heavy like the world, and finally their eyes met. All the air was sucked out of her lungs. Oliver was smiling. It was soft, sweet and vulnerable. The kind of smile a child would give when they receive a gift from Saint Nicholaus when they’ve been told he doesn’t exist. Hopeful and relieved. He was also crying, just as softly to match the trembling of his curved lips. Tears gathering at the corners of his mouth to drop, suddenly, to pool on the bed spread.

“Hey, what’s all this?” Nif asked gently. Her hand reached for his and he grabbed her like a lifeline.

“You’ve no idea how relieved I am that you’re okay, Jennifer.”

“Hey, we’re friends, so call me Nif.” She pulled a face and he chuckled.

“I kind of hope we’re more than friends.” He glanced up at her through his eyelashes, impossibly shy for someone who could shift into a bear and rip down a wall. His eyes were more blue than the sky outside.

“We’ve the time to find out,” Nif replied, and for the first time in weeks – months, years – Nif wasn’t worried about what the future may bring. She was excited, eager to get out of bed and face whatever was thrown at her. Confident in herself and capable of a love so big she felt it could swallow the universe.

“I can’t shift,” Nif said, not really a warning but a statement. Voicing a heavy truth rather than the shameful uncertainty she’d carried all her life. “If the last few days didn’t do it, I can’t imagine any other trauma triggering the change.”

“I don’t care.” Oliver brushed his lips over the back of her hand and tingles of warmth shot up through her arm. “You’re perfect just as you are. I love how you suck on pencils rather than chewing and the way you eat muffins from the bottom up. I love how you refuse to accept the status quo and will fight to the actual death to save those you care about.”

“You’re a dork,” Nif interrupted and pulled him into a kiss. It was awkward. First kisses always were, but once they worked out the angle for their noses and Oliver had adjusted his weight so he wasn’t pulling at any of the tubes in Nif’s arm, the kiss was perfect. A warm ember sparked to full flame in Nif’s chest and the heart monitor picked up its pace, announcing to all and sundry that Nif was well and truly in love.