The Warrior and The Wren, No. 18

 

Chronicle 18

“The Birth of the Sweet Roses”

Late that evening, Joanna finally stepped out of the Imperial Academy with her gym bag slung over one shoulder. The building was almost deserted now. Only a handful of lights remained on, and the rhythmic squeak of someone mopping a distant hallway echoed through the otherwise quiet facility.

Every muscle in her body protested.

The long creative meetings had been followed by ring drills, then rehearsals for entrances and camera positioning. By the time everyone had finally called it a night, she was running almost entirely on adrenaline.

As she rounded the corner toward the lobby, she heard a familiar series of soft, deliberate footsteps.

"Tyran!"

The large lizardfolk looked up immediately.

His broad face lit up.

"Joanna!"

Before she could say another word, Tyran closed the distance and wrapped her in a warm embrace.

She laughed despite herself.

"Hello to you too."

She returned the hug automatically.

His scales were cool from the evening air, but somehow the embrace always felt remarkably comforting.

After a few moments they separated.

"Long day?" Tyran asked.

"The longest."

"You look tired."

"I am."

He tilted his head slightly.

"I hope... today was good."

Joanna smiled.

"It was."

"Very good, actually."

"I'm happy."

"So are you."

"I am."

Tyran's tail swayed happily behind him.

"You smile different."

"I do?"

"Yes."

"You smile with eyes."

Joanna laughed.

"I've been working on something for weeks."

"I think it's finally coming together."

"I'm glad."

There was a short pause.

Then Tyran looked at her with complete sincerity.

"You are very pretty tonight."

Joanna blinked.

"...Thank you."

He gave a satisfied little nod, as though he'd simply stated an obvious fact.

"I hope tomorrow is kind to you."

"You too."

Almost without thinking, Joanna stepped forward and hugged him again.

He immediately returned it.

When they finally separated, Tyran looked every bit as cheerful as when she'd first met him.

"Goodnight, Joanna."

"Goodnight, Tyran."

She watched him disappear down the hallway with his cleaning cart before continuing toward the parking lot.

She couldn't help smiling.

Every single time.

---

Down the hall, Joanna found Rotimi sitting near one of the practice rings, carefully unwrapping the tape on his wrists after training.

"You ever notice something strange about Tyran?"

Rotimi looked up with a grin.

"Only one thing?"

She sat beside him.

"I swear... every conversation with him leaves me ridiculously happy."

Rotimi chuckled.

"That doesn't surprise me."

"I don't understand him."

"I mean..."

She searched for the words.

"We barely talk."

"It's always the same things."

"'How's your day?'"

"'Hope you're doing well.'"

"'You're pretty, Joanna.'"

"Then he hugs me."

"I hug him."

"...and somehow I walk away feeling like somebody just paid me the nicest compliment I've ever received."

She shook her head.

"I don't get it."

Rotimi smiled knowingly.

"You know lizardfolk don't really communicate with speech."

"I know that much."

"They evolved differently."

"For them, touch, posture, scent, even tiny sounds carry far more information than words."

Joanna frowned thoughtfully.

"So..."

"When Tyran hugs you..."

"...he's talking."

She stared at him.

"What?"

Rotimi nodded.

"To him, that's a conversation."

"The words are just there to help you follow along."

"The hug isn't an extra."

"It's part of what he's trying to say."

Joanna sat silently for a moment.

"...and every time you hug him back," Rotimi continued, "you're answering in a language he actually understands."

Her eyes widened.

"So that's why..."

"Why he always seems so excited to see you."

"Exactly."

Rotimi smiled.

"Most humans don't think about it."

"They wave."

"They nod."

"They say hello from ten feet away."

"They're polite."

"...but from Tyran's perspective..."

"...they're barely saying anything."

Joanna slowly replayed every conversation she'd ever had with him.

"I remember the first time."

Rotimi looked over.

"He called me pretty."

"I don't even know why."

"It absolutely made my day."

"So..."

"I hugged him."

She laughed softly.

"...and ever since then we've had this..."

She searched for the right word.

"...weird friendship."

Rotimi laughed.

"It probably isn't weird to him."

"It's probably one of the most natural friendships he's got."

Joanna looked toward the hallway where Tyran usually worked.

"So every time I hug him..."

"...I'm really telling him I appreciate him."

Rotimi nodded.

"...and probably a whole lot more than you realize."

Joanna smiled to herself.

"Well..."

"I think I need to learn his language a little better."

Rotimi laughed.

"Good luck."

"You're trying to learn a language with your hands, your face, your posture, your voice..."

"...and a nose humans barely know how to use."

Joanna laughed with him.

"I've learned harder things."

She thought about Zas teaching her to fight.

About learning to become Sugar Cane.

About becoming a mother almost overnight.

Learning how one gentle lizardfolk experienced friendship suddenly didn't seem impossible.

It just seemed worth the effort.

---

Back at the condominium, every room seemed to contain an open suitcase.

Joanna's rested on the couch, half-filled with wrestling gear and neatly folded T-shirts. Beside it sat a second bag containing toiletries, chargers, and enough snacks to survive another delayed flight.

Across the living room, Phoebe and Armintie had claimed the dining table as their packing headquarters.

"I still think we're bringing too much," Joanna called over.

"We're not," Armintie replied immediately.

Phoebe didn't even look up.

"We absolutely are."

Armintie folded another shirt.

"We're definitely not."

Joanna laughed.

"It took less than two weeks for you two to start sounding like sisters."

"We've always sounded like sisters," Armintie said.

"One of us was just usually wrong."

Phoebe looked up.

"You say that with an astonishing amount of confidence."

"I've practiced."

The three of them laughed.

The upcoming tour felt strangely different from every other trip Joanna had ever taken.

Normally she'd be packing alone before disappearing for days or weeks at a time.

Now there were three suitcases.

Three boarding passes.

Three people trying to remember where they'd put their phone chargers.

Since neither girl had started school yet, they could travel with her while WFE toured the continent. It wasn't a permanent solution, but it would buy them a few more weeks together before ordinary life settled in.

Sarah had been mildly devastated.

"I was finally going to be the cool aunt," she'd sighed over the phone.

"You still have Fido," Joanna had reminded her.

Sarah had thought about that for exactly three seconds.

"...That's true."

The crisis had passed immediately.

Joanna zipped one compartment closed before glancing toward Phoebe.

The blue streaks in her hair caught the light from the kitchen.

She'd seen them a thousand times already.

Yet tonight...

After talking with Tyran...

...she found herself looking at them differently.

"Phoebe?"

"Hm?"

"Can I ask you something strange?"

Phoebe smiled.

"When you start a question like that, the answer is usually yes."

Joanna nodded toward her hair.

"The blue."

Phoebe instinctively touched it.

"What about it?"

"I was talking with Tyran today."

"I know."

"He made me start wondering..."

She hesitated.

"...does blue hair have anything to do with the lizardfolk?"

Phoebe blinked.

"Actually..."

"...maybe."

Joanna raised an eyebrow.

"Maybe?"

Phoebe shrugged.

"No one really knows."

"I've read a couple of papers."

"They think naturally blue human hair—which only looks blue because of the way it reflects light—might have originated from ancient interbreeding with lizardfolk."

"...but..."

She held up a finger.

"...the research is completely inconclusive."

"So it could just be coincidence."

"It could."

Phoebe smiled.

"I still like the idea."

"You do?"

She nodded.

"I think it's kind of nice."

"If there are a few lizardfolk genes floating around somewhere in our family..."

"...maybe that explains why Dad can lift things that shouldn't be liftable."

Joanna laughed.

"...and your athletic ability?"

Phoebe grinned.

"I wasn't going to say it..."

"...but yes."

Armintie looked up from her suitcase.

"I thought the explanation was just that your father is ridiculous."

"That too."

Joanna leaned against the kitchen counter, thinking.

"I learned something else today."

"Oh?"

"Tyran."

"What about him?"

"I finally figured out why he hugs me every time he sees me."

Phoebe looked surprised.

"You didn't already know?"

Joanna blinked.

"...No?"

Phoebe laughed.

"I thought it was obvious."

"It wasn't."

"So?"

Joanna smiled.

"Rotimi explained that hugs aren't just hugs."

"They're part of how lizardfolk communicate."

"When Tyran hugs me..."

"...he's actually talking."

Phoebe nodded.

"Yeah."

"...and when I hug him back..."

"...I'm answering."

"I know."

Joanna stared at her.

"You knew?"

"I knew it all along."

"You never told me."

Phoebe gave an innocent little shrug.

"I thought you knew."

Joanna laughed, shaking her head.

"I've been accidentally speaking lizardfolk for months."

"Apparently."

There was a brief silence.

Then Phoebe stood up.

"What?"

Without saying another word, she walked across the room and wrapped both arms around Joanna.

Joanna instinctively hugged her back.

Phoebe rested her head against Joanna's shoulder.

"I wasn't speaking lizardfolk."

She smiled.

"I just like hugging my mom."

Joanna's expression softened instantly.

She tightened the embrace.

"I like hugging my daughter too."

From the dining table, Armintie looked up.

"Ew."

Neither of them let go.

Armintie rolled her eyes dramatically.

"...Fine."

She stood, crossed the room, and wedged herself into the hug anyway.

"There."

"Now it's only slightly embarrassing."

Joanna laughed so hard she nearly lost her balance as the three of them stood together in the middle of the living room, surrounded by half-packed suitcases and tomorrow's adventure.

---

The Elder was already smiling before Zas had finished speaking.

"So," the old man said, leaning back in his chair, "it is finally happening."

Zas nodded.

"It is."

"The Total Babes have their first match."

The Elder clapped his hands together once.

"Excellent."

"I shall begin arranging the feast."

Zas hesitated.

"There is... one complication."

The Elder's smile faded ever so slightly.

"There are two matches."

The Elder blinked.

"...Two?"

"Joanna explained that the first match will be on Combat Arts."

"The second will take place a few days later at something called a Premium Live Event."

The Elder frowned.

"I do not understand."

"Neither do I."

Silence settled over the room.

The Elder finally spoke.

"What is the difference?"

"I asked."

"...and?"

"I still do not know."

The Elder rubbed his beard thoughtfully.

"If they are both important..."

"...must we hold two feasts?"

Zas considered the question.

"I hope not."

"So do I."

The Elder sighed.

"I do not object to celebrating."

"...but organizing another communal feast only a few days after the first would be..."

He searched for the word.

"...excessive."

"The cooks may revolt."

"The hunters certainly will."

"I am not convinced Herman has recovered from transporting everyone to the last one."

Zas nodded sympathetically.

"There must be someone who understands this."

The Elder's eyes suddenly brightened.

"Azamat."

---

They found him in the livestock enclosure enthusiastically explaining professional wrestling to three thoroughly uninterested triceratops.

"...and if William Goldsteen had simply speared him first-"

"Azamat."

He spun around instantly.

"Elder!"

"Zas!"

"I was just explaining-"

"We require your expertise."

Azamat stood a little taller.

"My... expertise?"

The Elder folded his hands behind his back.

"Joanna now has two matches."

Azamat gasped.

"Two?"

"The first occurs during Combat Arts."

"The second during something called a Premium Live Event."

The Elder looked at him expectantly.

"What is the difference?"

Azamat scratched his head.

"Well..."

"I think..."

He looked toward the sky as though the answer might be written there.

"Usually..."

"The Premium Live Event is the bigger show."

"The important one."

"The one everybody has been building toward."

"The big matches happen there."

"The championships."

"The grudges."

"The dramatic speeches."

The Elder nodded slowly.

"...and Combat Arts?"

"That's the weekly television show."

"They use it to... well..."

Azamat waved his hands, trying to find the right words.

"...set things up."

"People start feuds."

"New wrestlers appear."

"Teams form."

He suddenly smiled.

"Oh!"

"Actually..."

"I think Joanna mentioned exactly that."

"The Total Babes are supposed to become a team on Combat Arts."

"Then they wrestle again at..."

He snapped his fingers.

"...Bash in Buffalo!"

The Elder exchanged a glance with Zas.

"So..."

"The first match introduces them."

"The second is the more important match."

"I believe so."

Azamat nodded confidently.

"I am... reasonably certain."

The Elder relaxed visibly.

"Then one feast shall suffice."

"I believe it will."

"Excellent."

The Elder smiled.

"We shall celebrate when the whole world first sees Joanna."

"There is no need to gather everyone again only a few days later."

Zas inclined his head.

"That seems sensible."

Azamat nodded enthusiastically.

"Very sensible."

The Elder clasped his hands together, looking immensely pleased.

"Wonderful."

"One feast."

"One celebration."

"One wrestling event."

The three men stood in satisfied silence.

Outside, one of the triceratops snorted loudly.

Neither Zas nor Azamat noticed the tiny smile creeping across the Elder's face.

He had begun this entire adventure believing professional wrestling consisted of two people trying to throw each other onto the ground.

Now he found himself discussing television schedules, touring calendars and the relative importance of weekly broadcasts versus Premium Live Events.

He wasn't entirely certain how it had happened.

He was, however, quite pleased that the planning appeared to be finished.

After all...

How complicated could professional wrestling possibly be?

---

By the time they reached their hotel in Guayaquil, the girls had rediscovered their energy.

Airports were exhausting.

Flights were exhausting.

...but arriving somewhere new always seemed to recharge them.

Joanna spread a large folding map across one of the beds while Phoebe and Armintie immediately climbed onto the mattress beside it.

"Okay," Joanna said. "Here's the plan."

She traced a finger over the western coastline.

"We're here."

"Guayaquil."

"The Total Babes debut tomorrow night."

Armintie's eyes lit up.

"...and then?"

Joanna moved her finger westward across the water.

"Then we fly out to Buffalo."

Phoebe smiled immediately.

"The turtles!"

"The giant turtles," Armintie corrected.

"I want to see one."

"I want to ride one."

"I don't think they'll let you."

"They should."

Joanna laughed.

"You can certainly ask."

Her finger continued along the route.

"After Buffalo we've got a few house shows."

"Then we're back on the mainland."

She pointed farther north.

"Quito."

"Another Combat Arts television show."

"...and after that..."

She slowly followed the blue route printed across the map.

"Baltimore."

"Orinoco."

"Trinidad."

"Virginia Beach."

"...and finally..."

Her finger rested near the centre of the continent.

"Manaus."

The girls studied the map for a moment.

"That's a lot of travelling," Phoebe observed.

"It is. Manaus will be when you guys go home."

Armintie frowned.

"...Why do we have to go home in Manaus?"

Joanna looked up.

"Because by then..."

She smiled gently.

"...you'll probably need to start school."

The reality settled over the room.

"Oh."

"I imagine Sarah will fly out to meet us."

"We'll get you settled."

"Then she'll take you home."

Phoebe nodded thoughtfully.

"Will you come back with us?"

Joanna hesitated.

"I..."

She looked back down at the map.

"I'm not sure."

"What do you mean?"

"The WFE hasn't told me what happens after Manaus."

"They might send me home."

"They might keep me on the road."

"I won't know until we're much closer."

Armintie looked disappointed.

"So..."

"...if you don't come home then..."

She asked the question so innocently that Joanna felt it before she answered it.

"...when will you come home?"

The room suddenly seemed much quieter.

Joanna stared at the map without really seeing it.

Before the girls...

That question had never crossed her mind.

She had simply lived from show to show.

Airport.

Hotel.

Arena.

Airport again.

Occasionally she'd think about Fido waiting at home.

She'd miss him.

Then she'd pack another suitcase and keep going.

It had never really bothered her.

Now...

Now two girls were asking when their mother would come home.

...and she didn't know.

A small knot formed in her stomach.

For the first time, she truly understood why Sarah had walked away from wrestling.

It hadn't been because she stopped loving it.

It was because there eventually came a point where somebody at home mattered more than the next town on the schedule.

Joanna took a slow breath before looking back at the girls.

"I honestly don't know."

Neither of them looked upset.

Only curious.

She reached across the bed and took one of each of their hands.

"...but I do know something."

"What?"

"We've already figured out harder things than this."

The girls listened.

"We made our family work when we lived on opposite sides of the world."

"We figured things out in Purushapura."

"We figured things out at Daral Lake."

She smiled.

"Your dad and I still talk all the time even though we're separated by an ocean."

"We're making it work."

Phoebe nodded.

"We are."

"So we'll make this work too."

"If I have to stay on the road..."

"We'll call."

"We'll video chat."

"We'll send each other ridiculous pictures."

"I'll probably make you watch wrestling whether you like it or not."

Armintie laughed.

"You already do."

"I know."

"...and when I finally get home..."

Joanna squeezed their hands.

"...I'll be home."

The knot in her stomach hadn't disappeared.

It probably wouldn't for a long time.

...but as she looked at the two girls sitting beside her on the hotel bed, she realized something.

The uncertainty hadn't changed.

Only the reason she cared about it had.

Before, every city had simply been another stop on the tour.

Now every city was also one stop farther away from the people waiting for her to come home.

It hurt.

...but somehow...

It also made home feel more real than it ever had before.

---

The following afternoon, the Pacific stretched endlessly behind a hastily assembled WFE film crew.

A camera sat atop its tripod.

Reflectors glinted in the sunlight.

Two production assistants argued over whether a microphone was visible in the corner of the frame.

Leah van Dahl stood barefoot in the sand while Bork fussed over the final details of her wardrobe.

The look was intentionally simple.

A bright bikini.

Sparkling sandals.

Large sunglasses.

The image of effortless confidence.

Cathy Greenwall watched the monitor.

"Ready?"

Leah nodded.

"Ready."

The assistant raised the slate.

"Total Babes Vignette One."

"Take one."

The clapper snapped shut.

Leah began walking slowly along the shoreline.

She wasn't trying to look seductive.

She simply carried herself like someone completely certain she belonged wherever she happened to be.

At the end of the walk she stopped, turned toward the camera, lowered her sunglasses just enough to meet the audience's eyes and smiled.

"There's real power..."

She paused.

"...when you're a Total Babe."

"Cut."

Cathy smiled.

"I like it."

"So do I."

Leah relaxed immediately.

Across the beach, Joanna, Carly and Marcy applauded quietly.

"That'll play," Marcy said.

"It feels natural," Carly agreed.

Joanna nodded.

"It introduces the attitude without trying too hard."

A few dozen metres away, Phoebe and Armintie had already disappeared down the beach.

For them this wasn't work.

It was simply another beach day.

Joanna occasionally caught glimpses of them running along the shoreline collecting shells before vanishing again.

She smiled.

Good.

They were having fun.

Behind the monitor, Vince McGeady rubbed his chin.

"No."

Cathy looked over.

"No?"

"It needs something."

Everyone waited.

Vince pointed toward the beach.

"She needs a guy."

Leah blinked.

"A guy?"

"Yeah."

"He walks over."

"Acts interested."

"You brush him off."

"Then..."

He pointed toward the camera.

"'There's real power when you're a Total Babe.'"

He smiled.

"Now we've established she's unattainable."

Cathy pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Vince..."

"We didn't bring another actor."

"So find one."

She stared at him.

"...Find one?"

He shrugged.

"There's a beach."

"There are people."

"Have Legal get him to fill out that form."

Without another word he folded his arms.

Cathy muttered something under her breath that Joanna was fairly certain wasn't fit for television.

Then she sighed.

"Fine."

She reached into her shoulder bag.

Of course.

There they were.

A stack of blank appearance release forms.

Joanna laughed.

"You actually carry those?"

Cathy didn't even look up.

"I've worked for Vince for fifteen years."

"I've learned."

She marched off down the beach.

Several minutes later she returned beside a man in his twenties wearing swim trunks and carrying a paperback novel.

He looked thoroughly confused.

"You sure this is okay?" Cathy asked one last time.

The man shrugged.

"I've got nowhere else to be."

He held up the signed form.

"I guess I'm an actor now."

"Congratulations."

"Don't get used to it."

---

"Rolling."

The camera followed Leah again as she walked along the shoreline.

Right on cue, the volunteer approached.

He smiled awkwardly.

"...Hi."

Leah stopped.

Smiled politely.

Then gave him a look that politely—but unmistakably—said no.

He nodded.

Turned.

Walked away.

Leah faced the camera.

"There's real power when you're a Total Babe."

"Cut."

Silence.

Vince frowned.

"He looked like he'd been fired."

The volunteer blinked.

"I... was trying to leave."

"Don't leave sadly."

"Leave disappointed."

The man frowned.

"What's the difference?"

Vince thought for a moment.

"I don't know."

"...but there is one."

---

"Take three."

The man approached.

Forgot which direction he was supposed to stand.

---

"Take four."

He walked directly between Leah and the camera.

---

"Take five."

He remembered his mark.

Forgot to say hello.

---

"Take six."

He smiled directly into the camera.

---

"Take seven."

He waved.

Nobody had asked him to wave.

---

By take nine, even Leah was struggling to keep a straight face.

"I'm sorry," the man said.

"I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing."

"We know," Cathy replied kindly.

"That's okay."

"You've actually improved."

Vince still looked unconvinced.

"Again."

Cathy shot him a look.

"We've got enough."

"One more."

"Vince..."

"One."

More.

Cathy sighed.

"Fine."

The volunteer returned to his starting position once again.

Leah adjusted her sunglasses.

The camera operator quietly rolled his eyes before resetting the frame.

Nobody said anything.

Everybody simply took their places once more.

"Take ten."

The man approached.

He hit his mark.

"...Hi."

Leah stopped.

Smiled.

Dismissed him with effortless certainty.

He hesitated just long enough to register the rejection-

Then gave a small, resigned nod and walked away, not crushed, just... outmatched.

Leah turned to camera.

Lowered her sunglasses.

"There's real power..."

A beat.

"...when you're a Total Babe."

"Cut."

A pause.

Then Vince nodded once.

"That's it."

Cathy exhaled in relief.

"Thank God."

The crew relaxed almost instantly.

The volunteer looked around.

"...Was that okay?"

Cathy smiled.

"That was perfect."

He allowed himself a small, satisfied smile.

"Nice."

Leah slipped her sunglasses back into place and stretched her shoulders.

"Do I get to keep him?" she joked.

"Absolutely not," Cathy replied.

The man laughed.

"Fair."

Vince clapped his hands once.

"That's a wrap on the vignette."

Applause broke out across the small crew.

Joanna, Carly and Marcy joined in from their spot on the sand.

Down the beach, Phoebe and Armintie looked up at the noise, then waved enthusiastically before returning to whatever game they had invented.

The equipment stayed where it was.

The cameras remained set.

...but for the moment, the work was done- and the beach was still theirs.

Vince walked directly over to the volunteer.

The man straightened instinctively.

"You did fine," Vince said.

The man smiled.

"Thanks."

"What's your name?"

"Daniel."

"Daniel."

Vince reached into the pocket of his jacket and produced two tickets.

"Combat Arts."

"Tonight."

Daniel stared.

"...Seriously?"

Vince handed them over.

"You helped us."

"Bring somebody."

Daniel looked like he'd just won the lottery.

"Thank you!"

Then another thought crossed his mind.

"...Would it be okay if I got a picture with her?"

He nodded toward Leah.

Vince looked at Leah.

She shrugged.

"I don't mind."

Vince pointed a finger at Daniel.

"One condition."

Daniel immediately nodded.

"Sure."

"No social media until after the show."

"We're introducing these characters tonight."

"I don't want people posting pictures before then."

Daniel didn't even hesitate.

"Deal."

Leah walked over beside him.

"So..."

"How do you want to do this?"

Daniel immediately abandoned any attempt at looking cool.

He planted himself beside her with the widest, goofiest grin anyone present had ever seen.

Leah burst into laughter.

"Oh, that's perfect."

She leaned slightly toward him while maintaining Georgia Peach's confident smile.

The photographer snapped the picture.

Daniel looked at the screen.

"I look ridiculous."

"You do," Leah replied.

"It's a great photo."

Still smiling, Daniel thanked everyone once more before wandering back toward the beach, occasionally looking down at the tickets in disbelief.

Cathy watched him leave.

"I actually like doing that."

Vince simply nodded.

"Happy people buy tickets."

Then he turned.

"Cathy."

"Marcy."

"Carly."

"Joanna."

"Leah."

"You too."

He motioned toward several production assistants.

"Circle up."

The group gathered beneath the shade of a large umbrella while someone dragged over a folding table.

Vince rested both hands on it.

"Okay."

"Here's the story."

Everyone waited.

"It starts tonight."

He pointed toward Carly.

"You."

"Alicia Lynx is already giving you problems."

Carly nodded.

"Right."

"She comes out."

"She's got a partner."

"She challenges you to find one."

He pointed at Joanna.

"You answer."

"You and Carly wrestle Alicia and her partner."

"You two win."

Joanna smiled.

"So Sugar Cane debuts in-ring tonight."

"Exactly."

Vince nodded approvingly.

"So Alicia gets embarrassed."

"She recruits another woman."

He pointed toward Leah.

"Then Carly and Joanna recruit Georgia Peach."

Leah nodded.

"Okay."

"Now Alicia starts panicking."

"So she finds Courtney Gilmour."

A few eyebrows rose.

"Main event."

"Eight-woman tag."

"The Total Babes officially unite."

"You hit your finish."

"The crowd goes home talking about the new faction."

He smiled broadly.

"So far?"

Everyone nodded.

It all sounded fairly straightforward.

Then Vince continued.

"Then..."

"We go to Buffalo."

He clasped his hands together.

"You girls won't actually wrestle."

Silence.

Joanna blinked.

"...We won't?"

"No."

"You'll be everywhere."

He became increasingly animated.

"You interfere in several matches."

"You cost people victories."

"You create chaos."

"You establish that whenever the Total Babes are around..."

"...anything can happen."

He looked immensely pleased with himself.

"...and then..."

"The main event."

"Eight-person mixed tag."

He pointed toward Leah and Marcy.

"You two."

He pointed toward empty space.

"Plus two guys."

"I haven't decided who yet."

Then another imaginary point.

"Courtney."

"Alicia."

"Two top male stars."

"Still deciding."

"Carly and Joanna are ringside."

"You help Leah and Marcy win."

Vince spread his arms triumphantly.

"There."

"The greatest booking I've ever written."

Nobody spoke.

Cathy slowly tilted her head.

"...I'm sorry."

"Can you explain why the Total Babes don't actually wrestle at Bash in Buffalo?"

"They do."

"No."

"I mean together."

"They're together."

"They're ringside."

Cathy blinked.

"That's... not wrestling."

"Oh."

Vince waved dismissively.

"They're still on television."

Joanna cautiously raised a hand.

"I was actually looking forward to wrestling in Buffalo."

"You will."

"Eventually."

Marcy frowned.

"So..."

"The faction debuts."

"Then we don't wrestle together at the Premium Live Event."

"We interfere instead."

"Correct."

Leah folded her arms.

"...and Courtney?"

"What about Courtney?"

"When do I wrestle her?"

"Later."

"When?"

"Later."

"How much later?"

Vince shrugged.

"We'll know when we get there."

Leah exchanged a look with Carly.

"...Right."

Marcy leaned forward.

"Why is Courtney joining Alicia this quickly?"

"They've never interacted."

"They will."

"When?"

"Tonight."

"They don't have time."

"They'll make time."

Cathy quietly rubbed her temples.

One of the assistants cautiously spoke up.

"So..."

"...the audience is supposed to follow all of this over two shows?"

"Yes."

"...and several run-ins."

"Yes."

"...and a mystery pair of men."

"Yes."

"...and then the women who started the story..."

He looked toward Joanna and Carly.

"...don't actually wrestle on the Premium Live Event."

"Exactly."

The assistant slowly nodded.

"I think I've become confused."

"You'll understand once it's happening."

"I'm not sure I will."

Neither, judging by the increasingly puzzled expressions around the table, was anybody else.

---

Long before sunrise, lights flickered to life throughout Daral Lake.

Smoke rose from cooking fires.

Lanterns glowed in windows.

The entire settlement moved with the strange, sluggish rhythm of people who knew they should still be asleep.

"This is ridiculous."

One hunter yawned so widely he nearly dropped the basket he was carrying.

"Who holds a feast before dawn?"

"A wrestler," someone answered.

Several tired laughs drifted across the square.

Inside the council hall, preparations were already well underway.

Long tables filled the room.

Fresh bread.

Steaming stew.

Roasted vegetables.

Fruit.

Enough food to satisfy an entire village despite the hour.

Everyone contributed something.

Even if most of them looked only half awake.

The Watchers had reached their seats early.

Unfortunately, they had also fallen asleep there.

One snored softly against a support pillar.

Another sat upright with his arms folded, somehow managing to sleep without anyone noticing until his head slowly tipped forward.

Azamat fought valiantly.

His eyes remained open.

Mostly.

Every few seconds his chin drifted toward his chest before jerking back upright.

"I'm awake," he mumbled.

Nobody had accused him of sleeping.

The Elder walked through the hall with far more determination than energy.

He checked tables.

Adjusted benches.

Moved serving bowls a few inches to the left.

Asked whether there was enough tea.

Then asked again five minutes later because he'd forgotten he'd already asked.

He looked every bit as tired as everyone else.

He simply refused to admit it.

"We shall celebrate properly," he declared.

A yawn interrupted him.

He covered it with surprising dignity.

"...properly."

Finally, everything was ready.

The food was hot.

The hall was full.

The sun still hadn't risen.

The Elder looked toward Zas.

"We may begin."

Zas nodded and walked to the television.

He pressed the power button.

Nothing.

The screen remained black.

He frowned.

Pressed it again.

Still nothing.

He checked the remote.

The batteries.

The power button on the television itself.

Nothing.

Every eye in the hall slowly turned toward him.

"It's usually more cooperative than this," Zas said.

He stepped outside.

The morning air was crisp.

The extension cord snaked across the grass toward the nearest building.

He followed it.

About halfway there, he stopped.

"...Ah."

One of the goats stood happily chewing grass.

The extension cord had somehow wrapped itself neatly around one of its hind legs.

The plug itself lay several feet away from the socket.

The goat looked thoroughly pleased with its accomplishment.

Zas sighed.

"You."

The goat blinked.

Then resumed eating.

Zas carefully unwound the cord from its leg.

The goat offered no resistance whatsoever.

Once free, it immediately wandered toward another patch of grass.

"Oh no."

Zas gently redirected it toward the goat pen.

The animal protested only by chewing faster.

After securing the gate, Zas walked back to the outlet and plugged the television in once more.

From inside the council hall came the unmistakable sound of a television coming to life.

Satisfied, he returned indoors.

"The problem has been resolved."

"What was it?" the Elder asked.

"A goat."

Several people nodded.

That seemed a perfectly acceptable explanation.

The Elder thought for a moment.

"We require someone to guard the plug."

He looked around the room.

"The volunteer shall receive first choice of the feast."

Instantly, nearly every hand shot into the air.

"I'll do it!"

"I volunteer!"

"I can watch a plug!"

"I have excellent eyesight!"

One of the Watchers woke just long enough to raise his hand.

"I volunteer."

He promptly fell asleep again.

The Elder blinked.

"I did not expect so many applicants."

Zas scanned the eager crowd.

"I believe..."

He pointed toward one of the younger members of the Blue Shield.

"...you."

The young man stood so quickly he nearly knocked over his chair.

"I accept!"

He hurried outside as though he'd just been entrusted with guarding the Emperor himself.

The Elder nodded with satisfaction.

"Excellent."

"Protect the plug."

"I shall!"

A moment later he could already be seen standing proudly beside the electrical outlet with his spear planted beside him.

Nothing-

absolutely nothing-

would unplug that television again.

Inside, everyone finally settled into their seats.

Bowls were filled.

Tea was poured.

Conversations quieted.

The Elder folded his hands together.

"Zas."

"Yes?"

"You may begin."

Zas picked up the remote.

One final click.

The Combat Arts opening sequence burst across the screen.

Every sleepy face in the hall suddenly became just a little more awake.

The familiar Combat Arts theme faded into the opening pyro.

The announcers welcomed the audience before quickly running through the night's card.

"Tonight, Cotton Candy has some unfinished business with Alicia Lynx..."

A graphic flashed across the screen.

Cotton Candy.

Alicia Lynx.

Jayla.

The next match.

Then another graphic.

Then another.

No Sugar Cane.

No Total Babes.

No William Goldstein.

The package ended.

Around the council hall, puzzled murmurs immediately began.

"I thought Joanna was wrestling."

"So did I."

"Did we wake up before dawn for the wrong show?"

One particularly grumpy hunter looked directly at the Elder.

"You didn't trick us into an ordinary feast, did you?"

The Elder looked almost offended.

"I most certainly did not."

He slowly turned toward Azamat.

"You understand wrestling."

Azamat swallowed.

"...Sometimes."

"Explain."

Azamat stared at the television.

Then scratched his head.

Then shrugged.

"...Maybe..."

"...it's a surprise?"

The Elder looked unconvinced.

"...That is your explanation?"

"...Yes."

The Elder slowly turned toward Zas.

Zas met his gaze without flinching.

"My love will not lie."

The statement landed with complete sincerity.

For about two seconds.

Then several married men quietly chuckled.

One elbowed another.

"I've used that one before."

"So have I."

Almost immediately they noticed their wives looking at them.

The laughter died.

Very quickly.

One man suddenly found the stew in front of him intensely interesting.

Another cleared his throat.

"I was laughing at... something else."

His wife continued staring.

"...Carry on."

The Elder ignored the domestic negotiations unfolding around the room.

"I suppose we wait."

They did.

The first match came and went.

A backstage interview followed.

Then the commentators announced the opening segment.

"Cotton Candy is on her way to the ring."

Carly appeared to a warm reception.

Several people at Daral Lake smiled.

"She is one of Joanna's friends."

"I like her."

"So do I."

Cotton Candy entered the ring and grabbed a microphone.

Before she could say much, Alicia Lynx interrupted.

She wasn't alone.

Beside her stood another wrestler.

The lower-third graphic appeared.

JAYLA

One of the older members of the Blue Shield frowned.

"...Jayla?"

"That is her name?"

"I believe so," Azamat replied.

"It sounds incomplete."

"It sounds like someone forgot the rest of it."

The crowd in the hall chuckled.

Back in the ring, Alicia smirked.

She gestured toward Jayla.

Then toward Cotton Candy.

Eventually the challenge became obvious even to those unfamiliar with wrestling.

"You've got a partner."

"Where's mine?"

Silence.

Then...

The arena lights dimmed.

A new song echoed through the speakers.

Nobody inside Daral Lake reacted.

Nobody inside the arena did either.

No one recognized the music.

The entrance screen filled with blue roses.

The opening notes continued.

Then...

Sugar Cane stepped onto the stage.

She moved with effortless confidence.

She smiled.

She danced.

She pointed toward the crowd as though she'd been doing this for years.

For half a second the audience simply watched.

Then they erupted.

Thousands of people suddenly came alive.

Cheers rolled through the arena.

Phones shot into the air.

People who had never seen Sugar Cane before were already clapping along with her entrance.

Even the commentators sounded pleasantly surprised.

In Daral Lake...

Silence.

Absolute silence.

The Elder stared at the television.

His eyebrows climbed steadily higher.

Sugar Cane continued dancing her way down the entrance ramp.

Blue roses appeared across the giant screen behind her.

The crowd somehow became even louder.

The Elder leaned forward.

He blinked twice.

Then finally spoke.

"...She's like Britney Spears."

Zas immediately shook his head.

"No."

The Elder looked at him.

"No?"

"Joanna actually dislikes Britney Spears' music."

The Elder frowned.

"...Then why does she look like Britney Spears?"

Another beat.

"...and why is she dancing like Britney Spears?"

Zas watched Joanna twirl once before confidently striding toward the ring.

He considered the question carefully.

Finally...

"The simplest explanation..."

He folded his arms.

"...is that Joanna has a very difficult boss."

Around the hall, understanding slowly dawned.

Several people nodded sympathetically.

"Ah."

"That explains quite a lot."

"It does."

The Elder continued watching the screen.

"I am beginning to think this Mr. McGeady and I would disagree on many subjects."

"I suspect you would," Zas admitted.

"...but..."

He couldn't help smiling as Sugar Cane reached the ring and posed beside Cotton Candy while the crowd continued cheering.

"...the audience seems to like it."

The Elder grumbled.

"I am not convinced that makes it wise."

Even so...

He didn't take his eyes off the television.

Sugar Cane reached the foot of the ramp.

She climbed onto the apron in one smooth motion.

Then, with perfect timing, she produced a single blue rose.

She held it aloft for a moment.

The audience roared.

Then she tossed it into the crowd.

Half a dozen hands reached for it.

One lucky fan came away clutching the flower like a priceless treasure.

Sugar Cane smiled.

Then-

For the briefest instant-

Joanna's eyes widened.

The skirt.

She had forgotten.

Part of Sugar Cane's entrance involved removing the light blouse and matching skirt before stepping through the ropes.

She had walked all the way to the ring...

...and completely forgotten.

Only three people in the entire arena noticed.

Carly.

Vince.

...and Joanna herself.

Nobody else had any idea that anything had gone wrong.

Joanna resisted every instinct to freeze.

Don't think about it.

Keep going.

Half a world away, Zas leaned forward slightly.

He couldn't have explained why.

There hadn't been any obvious mistake.

Nothing looked wrong.

Yet...

He knew Joanna well enough to recognize the tiniest change in her expression.

Something had happened.

Very quietly, so only he could hear himself, he spoke.

"Do not worry about it."

His eyes never left the screen.

"Focus on what comes next."

Of course Joanna couldn't hear him.

...and yet...

As the referee called for the opening bell...

...it was as though she had.

The hesitation disappeared completely.

Sugar Cane exploded into motion.

Within moments it became obvious to everyone watching that something special was happening.

She moved faster than anyone else.

Every strike looked crisp.

Every movement flowed naturally into the next.

Every tag was perfectly timed.

She looked as though she'd wrestled this exact match a hundred times before.

The arena came alive.

Every successful sequence earned a louder reaction than the last.

Back at Daral Lake, sleep vanished entirely.

People leapt to their feet.

"Joanna!"

"Throw her!"

"Again!"

Even the Watchers were suddenly awake.

Outside the council hall, the unfortunate guardian of the extension cord heard the cheering erupt inside.

He looked toward the closed doors.

Then toward the electrical outlet.

"...I picked the wrong job."

---

Backstage in Guayaquil...

Vince had stopped talking.

His eyes never left the monitor.

"How much time?"

A production assistant checked the rundown.

"About four minutes."

Vince didn't answer.

Another minute passed.

The audience grew louder.

Then louder still.

Finally Vince spoke.

"Give them more."

The assistant blinked.

"...More?"

"Tell them to keep going."

"They've got them."

Cathy looked up sharply.

"What about the next segment?"

"Move it."

"We've got interviews scheduled."

"Move them."

"Vince-"

"They're making money."

His tone left no room for discussion.

"I am not taking them off now."

Cathy sighed heavily.

Then reached for her headset.

"You heard him."

"We're extending the match."

Somewhere else backstage, at least three producers immediately began rewriting the remainder of the show.

---

The audience's excitement only continued to build.

Someone in the crowd stood up.

"ROSES!"

A handful of nearby fans answered.

"ROSES!"

Within seconds, an entire section had joined in.

"ROSES!"

"ROSES!"

"ROSES!"

Even in Daral Lake, where nobody inside the arena could possibly hear them, the villagers instinctively joined the chant.

"ROSES!"

"ROSES!"

"ROSES!"

Azamat had both fists in the air.

"The Roses!"

"The Roses!"

Vince looked toward the commentary desk.

He smiled.

"There it is."

He pressed the button on his headset.

"Commentary."

A voice answered immediately.

"Yeah?"

"Start calling them the Sweet Roses."

A pause.

"...The Sweet Roses?"

"Yes."

The commentator hesitated just long enough to make sure he'd heard correctly.

Then, on the next exchange-

"The Sweet Roses are putting on one incredible performance here tonight!"

The name stuck instantly.

---

Nearly half an hour after the opening bell...

The end finally arrived.

Cotton Candy made the tag.

Sugar Cane burst into the ring.

Everything happened in a blur.

The two women moved together as though connected by invisible threads.

One lifted.

The other struck.

The finishing sequence unfolded flawlessly. The Blue Thorn followed by The Sleeping Rose.

The commentary team had only a fraction of a second to react.

"...THE BED OF ROSES!"

The words simply came out.

The announcer hadn't planned them.

He hadn't been told the move's name.

He only knew he couldn't let the moment pass in silence.

The referee counted.

One.

Two.

Three.

The bell rang.

The arena exploded.

The sound was deafening.

Backstage, Cathy stared at one of the commentators.

"...Did you just make that up?"

He shrugged helplessly.

"I needed to call it something."

Vince burst into laughter.

"No..."

He pointed toward the monitor.

"...that's the name now."

Nobody argued.

It fit too well.

Inside the ring, Sugar Cane and Cotton Candy stood side by side, hands raised high.

The chants only grew louder.

"Sweet Roses!"

"Sweet Roses!"

"Sweet Roses!"

Both women smiled confidently for the cameras.

Neither dared let their composure crack.

Deep inside...

They were overwhelmed.

This was everything they'd imagined.

Everything they'd rehearsed.

Everything they'd hoped might happen if the audience simply gave them a chance.

Thirty minutes earlier, Sugar Cane had almost forgotten part of her entrance.

Now...

Thousands of strangers were chanting a nickname no one had planned...

...and celebrating a finishing move no one had officially named.

Joanna could have wrestled another hour.

Maybe two.

She wasn't tired.

She was exhilarated.

She wanted to bottle this feeling and keep it forever.

Beside her, Carly felt exactly the same.

Neither woman looked at the other.

They didn't have to.

Both knew.

Without saying a word...

They had just lived the greatest night of their wrestling careers.

The moment the cameras cut away...

...Sugar Cane disappeared.

Joanna didn't.

The instant she stepped through the curtain, she spotted Vince McGeady.

She walked straight toward him.

There wasn't even a greeting.

"I'm sorry."

Her breathing was still heavy from the match.

"I'm sorry."

"I forgot."

"The skirt—I—"

She never finished the sentence.

Vince stepped forward and wrapped both arms around her.

A genuine hug.

Not the theatrical kind.

Not the performative handshake-and-pat he'd perfected over decades.

A real embrace.

"Jo."

She froze.

"It was perfect."

She blinked.

"...What?"

"It was perfect."

"I forgot part of the entrance."

"I don't care."

"You wrestled."

"You connected."

"You made people care."

He pulled back just enough to look her in the eyes.

"That's what matters."

For a brief moment, Joanna was genuinely touched.

Then she remembered who Vince McGeady was.

A tiny smile formed.

He's not hugging me...

He's hugging the money.

The thought should have bothered her.

Instead...

It somehow made her laugh.

...and then...

The adrenaline finally let go.

The tears came.

She buried her face against Vince's shoulder.

"I can't believe..."

She laughed through the tears.

"...I can't believe that happened."

Vince simply patted her back.

"I can."

"I've been waiting for it."

Nearby, Carly had reached exactly the same point.

She'd made it halfway through thanking Cathy before dissolving into tears herself.

Within seconds everyone seemed to be hugging someone.

Cathy hugged Carly.

Marcy hugged Joanna.

Leah somehow hugged both of them at once.

Triple X quietly shook Carly's hand before unexpectedly pulling her into a hug as well.

Nobody cared about staying in character anymore.

The cameras were off.

The dream had happened.

Then Joanna looked toward the far end of the hallway.

Phoebe.

Armintie.

Both standing there.

Both smiling so proudly they looked ready to burst.

Joanna immediately broke away from the group.

The girls didn't wait.

All three collided in one enormous embrace.

"Oh..."

Joanna laughed through fresh tears.

"There you are."

Phoebe squeezed even tighter.

"We're so proud of you, Mom."

"You were amazing."

"The best one out there."

Armintie nodded vigorously.

"Our mom's a star."

Joanna laughed.

"You two are going to make me cry even more."

"Too late."

"It already happened."

Behind them, Carly quietly smiled.

She walked over.

"So..."

She cleared her throat.

"I don't think we've officially met."

The girls turned.

"I'm Carly."

Phoebe smiled warmly.

"I'm Phoebe."

"I'm Armintie."

Carly looked back toward Joanna.

"You've got wonderful daughters."

Joanna smiled.

"I know."

"They remind me every day."

---

A few minutes later, Joanna finally remembered something.

"My phone."

She sat down on a nearby equipment case and immediately tapped Zas' name.

Speakerphone.

One ring.

Two.

"Joanna."

Before she could answer-

"I am proud of you."

She smiled instantly.

"You watched?"

"The entire village watched."

"You were magnificent."

The emotion she'd barely managed to contain threatened to overwhelm her all over again.

"I wish..."

She laughed softly.

"...I wish I could hug you and kiss you right now."

There was a brief pause.

"Then..."

Zas replied gently,

"...I shall content myself with doing so over the telephone."

A very unmistakable kissing sound echoed through the speaker.

Immediately afterward came the unmistakable sound of an entire room reacting.

Somebody whistled.

Someone else laughed.

One voice shouted,

"Again!"

Joanna burst into laughter.

"I can hear everybody!"

"So can I."

The laughter from Daral Lake continued for several more seconds.

Carly looked completely bewildered.

"...What is happening?"

Joanna wiped a tear from her eye.

"Half of Daral Lake is listening."

"They're all at a feast."

"They've been watching the show together."

Carly blinked.

"...Seriously?"

"They woke up before dawn for it."

"...I love these people already."

From somewhere behind Joanna came another familiar voice.

"Zas."

Triple X leaned toward the phone.

"My offer still stands."

"If you ever get tired of whatever it is you currently do..."

"...I've still got a job for you."

Laughter erupted from both ends of the call.

"I appreciate the offer," Zas replied.

"I believe my Elder would object."

"The commute would be rough," Triple X admitted.

Across the room, Vince had only been half-listening.

Then one sentence caught his attention.

"...The whole village?"

He looked toward Joanna.

"They all watched?"

"They're having a feast."

"They do it for my big matches."

Vince stopped walking.

He rubbed his chin.

"Huh."

Everyone nearby recognized that expression.

It usually meant trouble.

"...Maybe..."

He spoke mostly to himself.

"...we should run a show up there."

Triple X looked over.

"At Daral Lake?"

"Why not?"

Vince's eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

"They're clearly into wrestling."

Another thought struck him almost immediately.

"...and if Joanna came from there..."

He looked toward Triple X.

"...they might have some good wrestlers too."

Triple X slowly smiled.

"...Oh no."

Cathy overheard just enough to close her eyes.

"Please don't start scouting an isolated warrior tribe."

Vince didn't answer.

Which, somehow...

...was a much more worrying response.

Vince McGeady didn't wait until the show ended.

As the show continued and the arena buzzed with ongoing matches, he picked up the phone on his desk.

"Cathy."

A moment later-

"Triple X."

Neither question was phrased as a request.

Twenty minutes later, both stood inside Vince's private office.

Cathy carried a legal pad.

Triple X carried a bottle of water.

Vince carried the unmistakable look of a man who had just seen dollar signs.

He didn't bother sitting.

"We're pivoting."

Cathy looked up.

"Already?"

"Huge."

Triple X folded his arms.

"...How huge?"

Vince grinned.

"Forget the Total Babes."

Silence.

He continued as though he'd just solved professional wrestling.

"Just do the Sweet Roses."

Neither Cathy nor Triple X spoke.

"The audience hasn't even met the Total Babes yet."

"They don't know what they're missing."

"They know the Sweet Roses."

"So..."

He clapped his hands together.

"...that's what we give them."

He paced across the office.

"Leah."

"Marcy."

"Put them together."

"They can be another tag team."

"They feud with the Roses."

"Done."

He smiled proudly.

"There."

Cathy slowly lowered her pen.

She and Triple X exchanged a glance.

Then looked back at Vince.

Neither said a word.

Vince frowned.

"What?"

Triple X finally spoke.

"...That's your plan?"

"It's a good plan."

Cathy carefully chose her words.

"Leah and Marcy..."

"...aren't a team."

"They can become one."

"They've never tagged together."

"They will."

"They don't have a relationship."

"They'll get one."

Triple X rubbed the back of his neck.

"...and why are they feuding?"

"They're rivals."

"Why?"

Vince blinked.

"Because they're another team."

Triple X stared for several seconds.

"...That's not really a reason."

Cathy nodded.

"The audience just spent half an hour falling in love with Joanna and Carly."

"If next week we suddenly say, 'Here's another tag team. Fight.'..."

She shook her head.

"...we weaken both acts."

Vince leaned back against his desk.

"You think?"

"I know."

Triple X nodded.

"The Sweet Roses have chemistry."

"They have history now."

"They have a story."

"Leah and Marcy..."

He shrugged.

"They're two women standing next to each other."

"That's not enough."

The room fell quiet.

Vince looked unconvinced.

"...but..."

"...the Roses."

He pointed toward the monitor, still frozen on an image of Sugar Cane and Cotton Candy celebrating.

"That's money."

Nobody argued.

"They're absolutely money," Cathy admitted.

Triple X nodded.

"I don't think anybody in this building disagrees."

"The crowd made that very clear."

Vince sat down.

"So you agree."

"We agree they need to become a priority."

"We agree the audience just changed our plans."

"We agree we'd be foolish to ignore that."

Cathy closed her notebook.

"...but I don't agree with throwing away three weeks of television because we had one great night."

Triple X smiled faintly.

"...and for what it's worth..."

"...I also think they need a match in Buffalo."

Vince looked up.

"They're not wrestling."

"They are now."

Triple X spoke matter-of-factly.

"You can't have the hottest act from Guayaquil standing at ringside while everyone else wrestles."

"The audience will expect to see them."

"If they don't..."

He shrugged.

"They'll feel short-changed."

Cathy nodded.

"I was thinking exactly the same thing."

Vince leaned back in his chair.

His fingers drummed slowly against the desk.

"So..."

He looked from one to the other.

"You both think we pivot."

"Yes."

"...but not that much."

"Correct."

Another silence settled over the office.

Then three experienced wrestling minds began quietly pulling apart the entire weekend's booking.

One suggestion replaced another.

Matches moved.

Segments disappeared.

New ideas emerged.

Some were immediately discarded.

Others stayed on the whiteboard longer than expected.

Arguments became discussions.

Discussions became possibilities.

Little by little...

A new direction began to take shape.

Different from the original.

Different from the one Vince had proposed.

Yet somehow...

Better than either.

When the meeting finally ended, nobody looked entirely satisfied.

Which, Cathy privately thought, usually meant they'd probably found the right answer.

Now all they had to do...

...was make it work.

---

By the time the Sweet Roses' match had ended, the feast at Daral Lake had taken on a life of its own.

People wandered between tables carrying bowls of stew and fresh bread.

Children darted between adults, pretending to wrestle one another before inevitably collapsing into laughter.

The Watchers had recovered from their accidental naps and were now arguing passionately over whether Sugar Cane's arm drag had been better than the one she'd used halfway through the match.

The wrestling had become almost secondary.

The feast itself had become the event.

Like any gathering, little communities had naturally formed throughout the hall.

Azamat occupied one corner.

He watched every second with complete devotion.

He leaned forward whenever someone entered.

He applauded every near fall.

He gasped at every surprise.

He even cheered for wrestlers he openly disliked simply because they'd done something impressive.

"This is wonderful," he declared for perhaps the fifteenth time that morning.

Across the room sat another group whose primary interest was considerably simpler.

"This bread is excellent."

"It is."

"Pass the butter."

"Did Joanna win?"

"Yes."

"Wonderful."

They happily returned to eating.

Near the front sat Zas.

Unlike almost everyone else, he watched with the same expression he wore during Blue Shield training exercises.

Every movement received quiet analysis.

"Too much weight on the front foot."

"Hm."

"That strike landed well."

"He should have rotated his hips more."

"The timing was good."

"...but the transition could have been cleaner."

One of the younger warriors leaned over.

"Do you ever simply watch?"

"I am watching."

"No..."

"I mean..."

"...without critiquing."

Zas considered the question.

"...No."

Elsewhere sat perhaps the strangest audience of all.

Men and women who couldn't have explained why they were enjoying themselves.

"I don't understand any of this."

"Neither do I."

"...but I want to see what happens next."

"So do I."

"I think I might like wrestling."

"I think you do."

Finally...

There were those who had no interest whatsoever.

One elderly woman spent the entire show knitting.

Occasionally she'd glance toward the television.

Then continue knitting.

Another man quietly carved a replacement spoon.

He never once looked up.

No one minded.

Not everyone had to love wrestling.

The feast was enough reason to be there.

On the television, the next match began.

The commentators introduced two wrestlers known less for flashy entrances than for technical excellence.

The arena responded politely.

A few cheers.

Some applause.

Nothing approaching the reaction the Sweet Roses had received.

The match began.

A collar-and-elbow tie-up.

A clean transition into a waist lock.

A smooth reversal.

Another escape.

In the arena...

The audience respectfully watched.

At Daral Lake...

The room exploded.

"Oh!"

"Did you see that?"

"He took the angle away!"

"Beautiful!"

Zas actually sat forward.

His eyes narrowed.

"...Very good."

The wrestlers exchanged holds with remarkable precision.

Nothing looked wasted.

Nothing looked careless.

Every movement served a purpose.

"They're excellent," one of the Blue Shield murmured.

"They understand leverage."

"They're patient."

"They don't rush."

Another nodded.

"They're the best wrestlers tonight."

"...other than Joanna."

"Obviously."

The agreement was unanimous.

For perhaps the first time all morning, Zas stopped critiquing.

Instead...

He simply appreciated.

"His balance is extraordinary."

The Elder looked over.

"High praise."

"It is deserved."

The match continued.

The two competitors gradually increased the pace.

Each escape became slightly faster.

Each counter slightly sharper.

Each throw slightly more difficult.

The warriors at Daral Lake followed every exchange with almost scholarly fascination.

Then...

Quite suddenly...

The finish arrived.

The winning wrestler hit his finishing move.

Three count.

Bell.

The commentators immediately began promoting the next segment.

The match was over.

Silence settled across the council hall.

"...That's it?"

One warrior frowned.

"They were just getting started."

"I wanted another ten minutes."

"So did I."

Azamat looked confused.

"They usually go longer than that."

Zas slowly nodded.

"I believe they intended to."

"The pacing suggested a much longer contest."

The Elder looked thoughtful.

"So why end it there?"

Nobody answered immediately.

Then Azamat remembered.

"Oh."

"The Sweet Roses."

Everyone turned toward him.

"They wrestled much longer than they were supposed to."

"So..."

He shrugged.

"...something else had to lose time."

Understanding spread through the room.

One of the older warriors smiled.

"A pity."

Another nodded.

"...but still."

He took another bite of bread.

"That was rather fun."

"It was."

"I'd watch them again."

"So would I."

Even Zas smiled faintly.

"They understand their craft."

For men and women who had spent their entire lives studying balance, leverage, timing and control...

This had been the wrestling match of the night.

They didn't care that the arena crowd had only politely applauded it.

They had seen something worth appreciating.

Even if, they all quietly agreed...

It deserved another ten minutes.

Combat Arts moved on.

The next segment opened not inside an arena...

...but on a sunny beach.

Georgia Peach strolled confidently along the shoreline.

Her sandals sparkled.

Her sunglasses reflected the afternoon sun.

She smiled as though the entire beach belonged to her.

Finally she stopped, looked into the camera and declared,

"There's real power when you're a Total Babe."

The vignette ended.

Inside the arena...

The audience howled.

Several whistles echoed through the building.

Someone shouted,

"Georgia!"

The cheers continued as Combat Arts returned to ringside.

At Daral Lake...

Silence.

The Elder frowned.

"...Was that all?"

"I believe so," Azamat answered.

One of the younger warriors tilted his head.

"...What was the point?"

Nobody immediately answered.

Another shrugged.

"She walked."

"...and?"

"...Then she talked."

Several people looked genuinely puzzled.

Unlike the English-speaking world, nobody in the Order of the Blue Shield had grown up in a culture that treated revealing clothing as inherently shocking or provocative.

During the warmer months, many people at Daral Lake swam with little or no clothing at all.

Children did.

Adults did.

Old people did.

Nobody thought much about it.

Clothing was practical.

Nothing more.

One of the women quietly asked,

"...Didn't several wrestlers wear almost the same amount of fabric during the matches?"

"They did," another answered.

"So..."

"...what made this different?"

The question travelled around the hall.

Nobody seemed entirely certain.

Finally someone looked toward Azamat.

"You understand wrestling."

Azamat froze.

"...Sometimes."

"Explain this."

He stared thoughtfully at the blank television screen.

"...I..."

Several long seconds passed.

"...actually can't."

The Elder slowly turned toward Zas.

"Surely Joanna has explained this."

"Many times."

"...and?"

Zas sighed.

"...I still do not understand."

The Elder nodded.

"Very well."

"We shall remain confused together."

The matter was quietly abandoned.

Perhaps, everyone concluded, this was simply one of those peculiar customs from another culture.

The next segment began.

Georgia Peach now stood proudly in the centre of the ring.

A microphone rested confidently in one hand.

"I've waited long enough."

The crowd cheered.

"I want the Crown."

Bigger cheers.

"I want Reika."

The arena erupted.

Azamat immediately sat upright.

"Oh!"

"The Empress!"

The entrance music began.

Reika appeared beneath the entrance screen.

She acknowledged the audience with a calm, regal nod before beginning her walk toward the ring.

As always, she addressed the audience in Angon.

Her words flowed naturally between English and Japanese, switching almost effortlessly as the speech continued.

The audience followed without difficulty.

Vince McGeady had long believed that Angon-speaking wrestlers connected more naturally with WFE audiences than wrestlers who spoke only other Japanese languages.

To him, the blend of familiar English with Japanese rhythm struck exactly the balance he wanted.

Azamat smiled from ear to ear.

"A Japanese wrestler."

"I've never seen one before."

"You have now," Zas replied.

"I like her already."

Georgia smiled confidently across the ring.

Then...

Reika smiled back.

"There is only one problem."

She gestured toward the entrance.

"I brought a friend."

Another entrance theme began.

Courtney Gilmour stepped onto the stage.

Georgia's confident expression vanished immediately.

Several people inside Daral Lake laughed.

"She does not appear pleased."

"I would not be either."

Reika looked back toward Georgia.

"You want the Crown?"

Georgia nodded cautiously.

"Then fight for it."

"Right here."

"Right now."

She paused.

"...Against both of us."

The crowd roared.

Inside the council hall, an entirely different kind of excitement erupted.

"A two-on-one?"

"Accept it!"

"You can do it!"

One of the older warriors laughed loudly.

"I've had worse odds than that."

"So have I."

"Many times."

The Elder folded his arms.

"It seems fair enough."

Azamat looked horrified.

"Fair?"

The Elder nodded.

"There are only two of them."

Azamat looked back toward the television.

"I don't think that's how wrestling works."

Georgia seemed to agree.

She raised a finger.

"...Or..."

She smiled.

"...I'll find a partner."

The crowd cheered.

"We'll settle this in the main event."

"Four women."

"One match."

Courtney stepped forward just enough to be seen beside Reika.

A slow smile crossed her face.

"We'll be waiting."

The screen faded to commercial.

Inside Daral Lake...

Several disappointed groans filled the hall.

"No!"

"They should fight now!"

"They already agreed!"

The Elder sighed.

"I continue to find wrestling's commitment to postponing perfectly acceptable fights rather confusing."

Zas smiled faintly.

"So do I."

"...and yet..."

He looked back toward the television.

"...I wish to know who Georgia Peach chooses."

Around the room, heads nodded.

Whatever strange logic professional wrestling followed...

It had somehow persuaded an entire hall full of seasoned warriors to eagerly await the answer after the advertisements.

---

While Combat Arts rolled into its next commercial break, the backstage area settled into its familiar rhythm.

Stagehands hurried past carrying pieces of scenery.

Producers spoke quietly into headsets.

Someone was already repainting part of a set that had only been built that morning.

Phoebe and Armintie stood just outside the curtain, watching everything with quiet fascination.

Neither had any intention of becoming wrestlers.

At least...

Not today.

But everything about this strange world fascinated them.

Every wrestler who walked by seemed larger than life.

Every conversation hinted at stories they didn't yet know.

Every producer seemed to be solving ten problems at once.

It made Joanna's life feel a little more understandable.

"So..."

Armintie whispered.

"...this is where all the magic happens."

Phoebe smiled.

"I think this is where all the panic happens."

Joanna laughed.

"That's a much better description."

The three of them watched another crew hurry past.

One man carried nothing but extension cords.

Another was looking frantically for a missing microphone.

Someone else shouted that they were already thirty seconds behind.

Nobody appeared surprised.

Then the Georgia Peach vignette replayed on a nearby production monitor.

Leah walked confidently along the beach.

The familiar line closed the piece.

"There's real power when you're a Total Babe."

Phoebe's smile slowly faded.

Joanna noticed immediately.

"What is it?"

Phoebe looked toward the monitor.

"...We were there."

"We were."

"Not with Leah."

"...but we were at that beach."

Joanna nodded.

"You girls disappeared for half the afternoon."

"We were swimming."

Armintie folded her arms.

"...Like we always do."

For a moment, nobody spoke.

Then Phoebe quietly continued.

"At first..."

"...it just felt like Daral Lake."

She shrugged.

"We took our clothes off."

"We swam."

"We laid in the sun."

"It wasn't illegal."

"It wasn't hurting anyone."

"It was just..."

She searched for the words.

"...normal."

Armintie nodded.

"It was normal."

"Until people started looking."

Joanna's expression softened.

"I know."

"They weren't nice."

"No."

Phoebe looked down at the floor.

"Some of the men..."

She hesitated.

"...looked at us in ways that made us uncomfortable."

Armintie snorted.

"...and one of them acted shocked when we told him to leave us alone."

"He looked offended."

"As though we'd done something wrong."

Joanna sighed quietly.

"I remember."

Phoebe looked back toward the monitor.

"Then we posted the pictures."

The room suddenly felt a little quieter.

"They weren't even your pictures."

"They were ours."

"We run our own pages."

"People didn't care."

"They blamed you anyway."

Armintie shook her head.

"They acted like Mom forced us."

"Nobody even asked."

Joanna smiled sadly.

"They rarely do."

Phoebe remembered the headlines.

"'Joanna Exploits Adopted Daughters for Attention.'"

She rolled her eyes.

"I wanted to throw my phone into the ocean."

Armintie nodded.

"Me too."

"They never even asked us."

Joanna reached over and squeezed both their hands.

"You also had a lot of people defending you."

Phoebe smiled faintly.

"We did."

"The locker room was wonderful."

"So were the producers."

"Even Vince."

Joanna laughed.

"I think Vince was protecting his investment."

"I'll take it."

"So will I."

The laughter faded again.

Phoebe looked thoughtfully at the monitor where Georgia Peach's vignette had just finished once more.

"I think..."

She spoke carefully.

"...that's why this feels different now."

"What does?"

"The vignette."

Joanna waited.

"If we'd watched it at Daral Lake..."

"I probably wouldn't have understood it."

"I'd just think..."

"'She's at the beach.'"

"...but now..."

She looked down at herself.

"...I understand what it's pushing against."

Armintie nodded slowly.

"I miss Daral Lake."

Joanna smiled.

"So do I."

"There..."

She looked for the right words.

"...nobody cared what your body looked like."

"They just..."

"...accepted it."

Phoebe nodded.

"I've never been embarrassed by my body."

"Neither have I."

"I never thought about it."

"We weren't taught to."

She looked toward Joanna.

"I thought the Americas were supposed to be more advanced."

She frowned.

"So why did they make us feel ashamed for simply existing?"

Armintie quietly added,

"...and then they call the Blade backwards."

Neither accusation carried anger anymore.

Only disappointment.

Joanna thought for a long time before answering.

Finally she sighed.

"I don't have a good answer."

The girls waited.

"I wish I did."

"I think..."

She glanced toward the monitor again.

"...a lot of people inherit ideas without ever asking whether those ideas make sense."

"They grow up believing certain things are shameful."

"They never stop to ask why."

Phoebe nodded thoughtfully.

"So..."

"...that's why the Total Babes exist."

"In part."

Joanna smiled.

"Leah's vignette."

"The way the women present themselves."

"The stories we're trying to tell."

"They're all little ways of asking people..."

"'Why?'"

"'Why should this make you uncomfortable?'"

"'Why should a woman be ashamed of her own body?'"

She shrugged.

"I don't expect wrestling to change the world."

"...but..."

"...sometimes it can make people think."

Armintie smiled.

"You wish you didn't have to fight that fight."

"I really do."

Phoebe squeezed Joanna's hand.

"So do we."

For a few moments, none of them spoke.

Then Phoebe smiled.

"...but..."

She looked proudly toward the arena.

"...I'm glad you're fighting it."

Armintie nodded.

"So am I."

Joanna wrapped an arm around each of them.

"So am I."

Outside, the crowd erupted as another entrance theme hit.

The three of them looked toward the curtain.

Whatever arguments existed beyond those walls...

For tonight...

They would answer them the way Joanna knew best.

By putting on a wrestling show that made people cheer.

Sometimes...

That was enough to start changing a mind.

---

Combat Arts continued.

The matches remained good.

The crowd in Guayaquil remained engaged.

...but after the explosion that had been the Sweet Roses' debut, the atmosphere naturally settled back into something closer to a normal wrestling show.

People applauded.

They laughed at the comedy.

They cheered the heroes.

They booed the villains.

It was a healthy crowd.

Just...

Not an extraordinary one.

Back at Daral Lake, the feast had reached a comfortable rhythm.

The initial excitement had mellowed.

People wandered between conversations.

Some returned for second and third helpings.

Children who had spent the Sweet Roses' match pretending to wrestle had now moved on to chasing each other around the edge of the hall.

The television remained on.

Whether everyone was watching...

...was another matter.

One hunter stretched and yawned.

"...We've already seen Joanna."

Another nodded.

"That was what I wanted."

"I am satisfied."

Across the room, Azamat looked horrified.

"Satisfied?"

"The show's only halfway over!"

"There is still wrestling!"

"There are stories!"

"There might be surprises!"

The hunter smiled.

"There will still be chores tomorrow."

"There are chores today," another reminded him.

Several people quietly nodded.

The morning had slipped away while they watched television.

Animals still needed feeding.

Equipment still needed repairing.

Someone had to gather firewood.

Life at Daral Lake had not paused simply because Combat Arts was on.

Near the back of the hall...

Herman was asleep again.

This time he had somehow managed to fall asleep sitting upright with a bowl balanced perfectly in his lap.

No one had the heart to wake him.

It was honestly rather impressive.

The Elder slowly surveyed the room.

The food was still plentiful.

Tea continued flowing.

Conversation remained lively.

The feast itself had been a success.

Still...

He looked toward Zas.

"Must we watch the entire program?"

Zas thought for a moment.

"Joanna told me she would appear again."

The Elder nodded.

"As Sugar Cane?"

"I do not know."

"As Joanna?"

"I do not know."

"...She simply said she would appear."

The Elder sighed.

"...Professional wrestling does seem remarkably reluctant to explain itself."

"It does."

The Elder considered the matter.

"Very well."

"We shall continue."

Satisfied, he settled back into his chair.

Around the hall, nobody objected.

Some watched closely.

Some watched casually.

Some barely watched at all.

The television simply became part of the atmosphere.

Azamat, meanwhile, remained absolutely locked onto the screen.

He leaned so far forward that he nearly slid off his chair.

"Come on..."

He whispered to himself.

"Show him."

One of the younger warriors looked over.

"Who?"

"William Goldstein."

"You still think he'll appear?"

"He has to."

"Why?"

Azamat frowned as though the answer were obvious.

"Because he's William Goldstein."

The younger warrior accepted this explanation despite understanding none of it.

Several more segments passed.

Every time a new entrance theme began, Azamat straightened hopefully.

"...No."

Another entrance.

"...Not him."

Another.

"...Still not."

One of the Watchers smiled.

"You are beginning to remind me of a child waiting for a festival."

Azamat nodded happily.

"I am."

"I have no shame."

The hall laughed.

Outside, the volunteer guarding the electrical outlet continued his lonely vigil.

Nothing had approached the plug.

Not another goat.

Not another animal.

Not even the wind.

Still...

He remained at his post with unwavering determination.

Prime choice of the feast was not something one abandoned lightly.

Inside, Combat Arts rolled steadily onward.

The excitement rose.

Then fell.

Then rose again.

...and somewhere in the back of everyone's mind lingered the same quiet question.

If Joanna had promised she would appear again...

...what exactly was she going to do?

The familiar voice of the ring announcer echoed through both the arena and the council hall.

"Ladies and gentlemen..."

"It's time for our main event!"

The audience in Guayaquil applauded warmly.

A graphic filled the screen.

REIKA & COURTNEY GILMOUR

vs.

GEORGIA PEACH & A MYSTERY PARTNER

Inside Daral Lake, Azamat immediately sat upright.

"This is it."

One of the younger warriors grinned.

"William Goldstein."

"It has to be."

Another shook his head.

"No."

"It's Joanna."

"She said she'd appear again."

"They're saving her."

A third warrior looked thoughtful.

"I hope it's one of those technical wrestlers."

Several people nodded.

"They were excellent."

"They deserve another match."

Someone near the back confidently declared,

"It's Hulk Hogan."

The room fell silent.

Azamat slowly turned.

"Hogan retired."

The man frowned.

"He did?"

"Years ago."

"...Oh."

He took another bite of bread.

"I still think it would be exciting."

No one could really argue with that.

Back on the television, Reika made her entrance first.

The Empress walked toward the ring with the same composed confidence she'd displayed earlier in the evening.

Courtney followed.

She carried herself with unmistakable arrogance, soaking in every jeer from the audience.

Both women entered the ring.

Then the arena lights shifted once more.

Georgia Peach emerged.

The crowd cheered.

She walked only halfway down the entrance ramp.

Then...

She stopped.

The music continued.

Georgia turned toward the entrance.

She waited.

"So..." Azamat whispered.

"Who is it?"

Another entrance theme struck.

Magnolia Wine stepped onto the stage.

For a heartbeat...

The arena didn't quite know how to react.

Then a surprised roar spread through the building.

Even Daral Lake seemed caught off guard.

"Magnolia?"

"I thought she wasn't involved."

"So did I."

Georgia smiled broadly before gesturing for Magnolia to join her.

The two women walked to the ring together.

The commentators quickly clarified the situation.

"This isn't an official team."

"Just a one-night alliance."

"Tonight, this is simply a partnership of necessity."

"If Georgia Peach and Magnolia Wine can defeat Reika and Courtney Gilmour..."

"...Georgia Peach earns a future championship opportunity."

Azamat leaned forward.

"...Buffalo?"

The commentators continued talking.

No answer came.

"They didn't say."

"They're keeping it secret."

Azamat looked mildly disappointed.

"I wanted to know."

"They cannot hear you," one of the Watchers reminded him.

"I know."

"...but it would still be nice."

The opening bell rang.

Magnolia and Reika started.

Immediately the tone felt different.

No flashy sequences.

No comedy.

Just two powerful wrestlers testing one another.

Lock-up.

Escape.

Another lock-up.

A shoulder block.

Magnolia refused to move.

The arena applauded.

Daral Lake approved.

"Good base."

"Excellent balance."

"She absorbed that well."

Reika answered with crisp striking combinations.

Magnolia responded by simply refusing to be intimidated.

The pace gradually increased.

Eventually Georgia tagged herself in.

Across the ring...

Courtney smiled.

She'd been waiting.

The moment they met in the middle of the ring...

The atmosphere changed.

The first strike echoed through the arena.

The second landed even harder.

Every forearm looked personal.

Every shove carried resentment.

Every exchange felt less like wrestling...

...and more like two women trying very hard to remember they were still participating in a match.

The Guayaquil crowd reacted to every blow.

"So did Daral Lake."

Even Azamat winced.

"Oh..."

"That one hurt."

Beside him, Zas nodded.

"It certainly looked painful."

A moment later he frowned thoughtfully.

"...Her feet were too square."

Another exchange.

"Better."

Courtney ducked beneath a clothesline.

"They're rushing the transition."

Georgia answered with a beautifully timed counter.

"That was excellent."

Another heavy strike.

"Too upright."

Another counter.

"Very nice."

Azamat couldn't help laughing.

"I don't know how you can compliment and criticize them at the same time."

"They are not mutually exclusive."

The match continued building.

Neither team seemed interested in rushing.

They let moments breathe.

They sold the punishment.

Each tag felt meaningful.

Each exchange raised the intensity another notch.

Somewhere near ringside, the timekeeper quietly glanced toward the production area.

Backstage...

Several producers looked at the clock.

Then at the monitor.

Then back at the clock.

The scheduled overrun was approaching.

Inside the ring...

The wrestlers showed absolutely no signs of heading toward a finish.

The story they were telling still had several chapters left.

The audience sensed it too.

Nobody sat down.

Nobody looked toward the exits.

Whatever was coming...

It clearly wasn't coming yet.

The match climbed another level.

Every exchange now felt decisive.

Every mistake looked costly.

The audience could sense the finish approaching.

Or so they thought.

Reika finally found her opening.

She caught Magnolia in one smooth motion.

The arena erupted.

"She's got it!"

The Empress connected cleanly with her finishing technique.

Magnolia crashed to the canvas.

Reika hooked the leg.

The referee slid into position.

One...

Two...

Georgia Peach dove across the ring.

She broke the pin at the last possible heartbeat.

The arena exploded.

Inside Daral Lake, dozens of people jumped to their feet.

"Oh!"

"I thought that was over!"

"So did I."

Reika immediately sprang back to her feet.

Courtney charged.

She intercepted Georgia before she could fully recover.

The two women tumbled through the ropes, still fighting.

Courtney eventually returned to the ring first.

Magnolia was only just beginning to stir.

Courtney smiled.

"This is it."

She delivered her own finishing move perfectly.

Magnolia collapsed once again.

The referee counted.

One...

Two...

Magnolia kicked out.

The reaction inside the arena bordered on disbelief.

At Daral Lake...

People simply laughed.

"She's still alive!"

Magnolia rolled desperately toward her corner.

Every movement seemed to require enormous effort.

She stretched one arm.

Not enough.

She crawled another few inches.

Reached again.

Still too far.

Azamat buried his face in his hands.

"Oh, come on."

"Just tag her!"

Magnolia dragged herself another inch.

Then another.

Then another.

Finally...

Her fingertips brushed Georgia's hand.

Tag.

The crowd roared.

Azamat threw both hands into the air.

"Oh, please."

One of the younger warriors laughed.

"You dislike that?"

"I love it."

"...but nobody crawls that dramatically."

Another Blue Shield member nodded.

"I have seen people crawl."

"They are usually faster."

Even Zas smiled.

"It is somewhat theatrical."

"That is an understatement."

Georgia burst into the ring with fresh energy.

She cleared house.

Clotheslines.

Dropkicks.

Counters.

Everything landed.

The audience rose with her.

The pace accelerated.

Another near fall.

Another interruption.

Another desperate save.

The match refused to settle.

Every time someone thought it was ending...

It simply found another gear.

The production truck quietly noticed something.

Three hours.

Officially...

Combat Arts should already have been off the air.

Nobody seemed particularly concerned.

Not the wrestlers.

Not the commentators.

Not the audience.

Certainly not Vince.

The overrun continued.

Back in Daral Lake, chores had become a distant memory.

The hunter who'd complained earlier now leaned so far forward his untouched bowl of stew had gone cold.

Nobody noticed.

Not even him.

Herman was awake.

Not merely awake.

Completely awake.

His eyes never left the television.

The Elder noticed.

"...Remarkable."

"What?"

"Herman."

Everyone looked.

Sure enough...

He was alert.

Focused.

Engaged.

Someone whispered,

"The wrestling cured him."

Laughter spread through the hall.

Inside the ring...

Another finishing move.

Another kick-out.

The audience gasped.

Another dramatic save.

Another false finish.

The commentators had stopped pretending they knew how this would end.

"I thought that was it."

"So did I."

"How much do these four women have left?"

Apparently...

Quite a lot.

Even Azamat found himself glancing toward the entrance every so often.

"...Maybe now."

"What?"

"William Goldstein."

"You still think he's coming?"

Azamat shrugged.

"Anything seems possible now."

The younger warrior couldn't really argue.

The match had already gone beyond the scheduled end of the show.

Nobody had expected that either.

Another sequence.

Another near fall.

Another eruption from the crowd.

Every time the audience collectively decided...

"Surely this is the finish."

...the match simply continued.

No one complained.

If anything...

The spectators in Guayaquil seemed delighted that it wasn't ending.

Daral Lake felt exactly the same.

The excitement had returned.

The restless hunters had forgotten their chores.

The Watchers had stopped talking.

Even the Elder leaned forward ever so slightly.

Whatever happened next...

Everyone wanted to see it.

So the match continued.

...and, somehow...

No one wanted it to do anything else.

Then—

Two figures exploded onto the screen.

No music.

No entrance videos.

No dramatic lighting.

Just two women sprinting down the entrance ramp as fast as they could.

"Alicia Lynx!"

"And Jayla!"

The commentators almost shouted over one another.

"They're here!"

Then, after their interference-

"They've come to help Reika and Courtney!"

The crowd erupted.

Inside the ring, the referee immediately moved toward the ropes.

"No!"

"You two stay back!"

Alicia raised both hands innocently.

Jayla nodded.

"Fine."

"We're leaving."

The referee reluctantly returned his attention to the legal competitors.

The moment his back turned...

Jayla stepped onto the apron.

"Hey!"

The referee spun around.

"What are you doing?"

As he argued with Jayla...

Alicia slipped around the far side of the ring unnoticed.

Magnolia rebounded off the ropes.

Alicia reached underneath the bottom rope.

Grabbed Magnolia's ankle.

Pulled.

Magnolia crashed awkwardly to the canvas.

Courtney needed no invitation.

She immediately rolled Magnolia over and hooked the leg.

Only now did the referee turn back.

One...

Two-

Georgia launched herself across the ring.

She broke the pin.

The crowd roared again.

Alicia didn't wait.

She rushed Georgia from behind.

The ring dissolved into confusion.

Courtney tagged Reika.

Together they isolated Magnolia once more.

Magnolia refused to stay down.

Every strike from Reika was answered.

Every hold was escaped.

Every attempt to overwhelm her met determined resistance.

Finally...

Reika managed another cover.

The referee dropped beside them.

Then-

"Hey!"

Georgia climbed onto the apron.

The referee immediately stood.

"You get down!"

While he argued with Georgia...

No count came.

No pinfall happened.

Reika looked furious.

Magnolia recovered just enough.

Rolled Reika over.

Hooked the leg herself.

The referee finally turned around.

One-

Before he could continue...

Alicia and Jayla charged into the ring together.

They physically dragged Magnolia off Reika.

The referee threw both arms into the air.

"Enough!"

He stepped between them.

The women ignored him completely.

Alicia and Jayla continued attacking Magnolia.

Courtney stomped away.

Reika joined in.

Georgia rushed to help-

Only to be overwhelmed herself.

The referee looked around the ring.

Nobody was listening.

He glanced toward the timekeeper.

Then signalled frantically.

The bell rang.

Again.

...and again.

...and again.

"Ladies and gentlemen..."

The commentators tried to be heard over the noise.

"The referee has thrown the match out!"

"This contest is over!"

Nobody inside the ring seemed remotely interested.

The fight continued anyway.

Four against two.

Georgia and Magnolia fought as hard as they could.

It wasn't enough.

Then...

The arena erupted.

Another roar.

Even louder than before.

Two more figures sprinted toward the ring.

Again...

No music.

No entrances.

Just urgency.

"The Sweet Roses!"

Sugar Cane and Cotton Candy hit the ring at full speed.

The crowd somehow became even louder.

At Daral Lake, chairs scraped across the floor as people jumped up once more.

"There she is!"

"Joanna!"

"I knew she'd return!"

Azamat threw both fists into the air.

"THE SWEET ROSES!"

The numbers were even.

The fight became complete chaos.

Nobody stayed paired off.

Everywhere you looked...

Someone was throwing somebody else.

Signature moves appeared one after another.

The commentators could barely keep up.

"Cotton Candy!"

"Georgia!"

"Magnolia!"

"Reika!"

Every few seconds another wrestler crashed into the mat.

The audience loved every second.

It wasn't wrestling anymore.

It was a riot with ring ropes.

Even Zas stopped critiquing footwork.

There simply wasn't enough structure left to analyse.

Then...

Everything suddenly lined up.

Sugar Cane launched herself into motion.

Cotton Candy moved with her.

The sequence unfolded so quickly the commentators barely managed to react.

Bodies collided.

Magnolia drove Jayla down with a crushing Rock Bottom that shook the canvas.

Sugar Cane followed instantly, snapping her leg up into the Blue Thorn, the enziguiri cracking sharply against the side of Jayla's head.

Before anyone could recover, Cotton Candy seized the moment and dropped Jayla with a Stone Cold Stunner.

Half the ring lay scattered.

The remaining women instinctively backed away.

Nobody yet had a name for the move.

Nobody needed one.

The arena shook.

Inside the production area, Vince simply grinned.

"That's staying."

The ring finally began to settle.

Before another fight could start...

A thin, slightly dishevelled man wearing oversized glasses hurried down the entrance ramp carrying a microphone.

The crowd recognised him immediately.

"Rob Sinclair!"

The on-screen General Manager climbed into the ring.

He looked around at the exhausted wrestlers.

Then raised the microphone.

"Enough."

The crowd gradually quieted.

"This has gone on long enough."

He looked from one side of the ring to the other.

"You want to fight?"

"You'll fight."

"...but you'll do it properly."

He pointed toward Courtney's side.

"Courtney."

"Reika."

"Alicia."

"Jayla."

Then toward the opposite corner.

"Georgia Peach."

"Magnolia Wine."

He finally gestured toward Sugar Cane and Cotton Candy.

"...and the Sweet Roses."

The crowd cheered loudly at the name.

"At Bash in Buffalo..."

"You eight will settle this."

The arena erupted once more.

No mention was made of the Total Babes.

No explanation followed.

As far as the audience knew...

Georgia and Magnolia had simply found two powerful allies.

...and now...

Those allies would stand beside them in Buffalo.

The eight women stared across the ring at one another.

Nobody lowered their guard.

Nobody looked ready to forgive.

The tension remained thick enough to cut with a knife.

Outside the ring...

The audience continued roaring their approval.

The Combat Arts logo lingered on the screen for a few more seconds.

Then...

The broadcast ended.

Another program immediately began.

Without hesitation, Zas reached for the remote.

Click.

The television went dark.

Outside, the young warrior guarding the extension cord saw the screen go black through the council hall window.

His shoulders relaxed.

He unplugged the cable, coiled it neatly over one shoulder and finally walked back inside.

Several people applauded him.

"You defended it well."

"No goats."

"Not one."

He smiled proudly.

"I was prepared."

The Elder nodded solemnly.

"You served with distinction."

The young man beamed.

Prime choice of the remaining food had been earned.

Inside the hall, conversations erupted almost immediately.

Everyone seemed to be talking at once.

"That ending was incredible."

"I still don't understand why they fought."

"Neither do I."

"Why didn't they simply have the eight-woman match to begin with?"

"I have no idea."

One of the older warriors scratched his beard.

"I enjoyed it."

"...but I cannot honestly explain what I just watched."

Several people laughed.

"Neither can I."

"It made no sense."

"It was wonderful."

Azamat looked around the room.

"I understood..."

He stopped.

Thought about it.

"...parts of it."

Someone raised an eyebrow.

"Which parts?"

Azamat frowned.

"...Less than I originally believed."

The room laughed again.

He sighed dramatically.

"...and William Goldstein never appeared."

A sympathetic hand landed on his shoulder.

"Perhaps next week."

"I hope so."

The Elder slowly stood.

His voice carried easily across the hall.

"I am pleased that everyone enjoyed themselves."

A chorus of agreement answered him.

Almost immediately another voice called out,

"So..."

"When's the feast for Bash in Buffalo?"

Another joined in.

"Yes!"

"We're doing this again!"

Several others quickly added their support.

"It'll be even better!"

"We'll start earlier!"

"We'll make more bread!"

Within moments the room had become surprisingly enthusiastic.

The Elder raised both hands.

"Please."

The hall gradually quieted.

"I have not planned such a feast."

Silence.

Then-

"What?"

"No feast?"

"We need another one!"

"This is becoming a tradition!"

Several disappointed voices quickly became several dozen.

The disappointment threatened to become something considerably louder.

The Elder blinked.

"I did not expect such resistance."

The volume only increased.

"We want Buffalo!"

"Another feast!"

"Another feast!"

For one alarming moment...

It almost resembled a riot.

Almost.

Zas calmly raised one hand.

"My friends."

The room slowly settled.

He looked around.

"You may still watch Bash in Buffalo."

Several confused faces stared back.

"How?"

Zas pointed toward the now-dark television.

"We simply turn it on again."

He shrugged.

"I have the WFE Family Pass."

"We can stream it."

The room fell silent.

The Elder nodded.

"That is true."

He looked around thoughtfully.

"It simply will not be an organised feast."

A few disappointed murmurs followed.

Then someone asked,

"When is it?"

Every eye turned toward Zas.

He thought for a moment.

"It is scheduled for four o'clock in the afternoon."

Several smiles appeared.

Then he continued.

"...local time."

The smiles disappeared.

"...which means..."

He did the calculation aloud.

"...three o'clock in the morning here."

The hall collectively groaned.

"Oh..."

"Again?"

"Who schedules these things?"

"This is unreasonable."

Zas raised both hands innocently.

"I do not make the schedule."

Several people chuckled.

"I blame Vince."

"I also blame Vince."

The Elder rubbed his chin.

"There is another difficulty."

Everyone looked toward him.

"Our rules."

Normally, once night had fallen, unnecessary noise around the council hall was discouraged.

Not forbidden.

Simply discouraged.

The Elder considered the matter carefully.

Then nodded.

"I shall make an exception."

The room brightened immediately.

"If enough people wish to watch wrestling..."

"...the noise rule shall be relaxed."

A cheer spread through the hall.

"Excellent!"

"I'll be here!"

"So will I!"

Azamat didn't even wait for anyone else.

"I am absolutely coming."

"I am not missing Buffalo."

Several more voices quickly joined him.

"So am I."

"Me too."

"I want to see the Sweet Roses."

"I want to see Courtney."

"I want to understand whatever it was we watched tonight."

That earned another wave of laughter.

The Elder smiled.

"It appears..."

He looked around the bustling hall.

"...that professional wrestling has found an audience at Daral Lake."

Zas glanced toward the dark television.

A small smile crossed his face.

Joanna had hoped her world and his might one day understand each other a little better.

Tonight...

They had taken the first step.

Even if nobody- not even Azamat- could quite explain why they had enjoyed it so much.

---

The arena had mostly emptied by the time Joanna finally emerged from the dressing room.

The adrenaline was beginning to wear off.

Now she simply felt exhausted.

Her legs were heavy.

Her shoulders ached.

Her voice was beginning to disappear.

She had never been happier.

Phoebe and Armintie were waiting just outside.

The moment they spotted her, they hurried over.

"There she is."

"Our superstar."

Joanna laughed.

"Oh, stop."

"You earned it."

She slung her bag over one shoulder.

"I think..."

She took a deep breath.

"...this might be the best night of my life."

The three of them began walking toward the parking lot.

They hadn't gone very far when someone behind them shouted,

"Jo!"

Joanna turned.

Vince McGeady was jogging toward her.

Actually jogging.

That alone was unusual enough to make her stop.

He reached them slightly out of breath.

Then, without hesitation, he wrapped Joanna in another hug.

"Outstanding."

He pulled back just enough to look at her.

"Absolutely outstanding."

"You surpassed every expectation I had."

"...and not by a little."

"By a mile."

Joanna smiled sheepishly.

"Thank you."

"I'm serious."

"The early merchandise numbers just came in."

He shook his head in disbelief.

"Sugar Cane."

"The Sweet Roses."

"They're both selling better than I expected."

He laughed.

"I was hoping they'd do well."

"I wasn't expecting this."

Joanna couldn't help smiling.

"I..."

She struggled to find the words.

"...thank you."

Only then did Vince notice Phoebe and Armintie standing patiently beside her.

His expression immediately softened.

"So..."

He crouched slightly to meet them at eye level.

"You two thinking about becoming wrestlers one day..."

"...like your mother?"

The girls exchanged a quick glance.

"We're not sure," Phoebe admitted.

Armintie nodded.

"We haven't really thought about it."

Vince smiled warmly.

"You should."

"You've got a special family."

He stood again.

Then turned back toward Joanna.

"Oh."

"One more thing."

"You don't need to do the house shows."

Joanna blinked.

"...I don't?"

"No."

"You've earned a break."

He waved a hand dismissively.

"Fly straight to Buffalo."

"Spend a few days looking at the turtles."

"We'll see you there."

For a second...

Joanna simply stared.

"...Really?"

"Really."

The smile that spread across her face was impossible to fake.

This time...

She hugged Vince first.

"Thank you."

"I mean it."

He patted her shoulder.

"You earned it."

A few more words were exchanged before Vince excused himself to deal with another production issue.

Joanna watched him disappear into the distance.

Then quietly climbed into the driver's seat.

Phoebe settled into the passenger seat.

Armintie climbed into the back.

For several seconds...

Nobody said anything.

Joanna rested both hands on the steering wheel.

Closed her eyes.

...and simply breathed.

The girls let her have the moment.

Eventually...

Phoebe smiled.

"...He's super nice."

Armintie nodded enthusiastically.

"I liked him."

Joanna chuckled.

"He can be."

The girls looked at her.

"He really seemed to mean everything he said."

Joanna nodded slowly.

"I think..."

"...maybe he did."

That surprised even her.

She thought about it for another moment.

"I do think he was genuinely happy tonight."

She smiled faintly.

"...but I've also worked for Vince a long time."

She started the engine.

"I've seen him change direction overnight."

"If the numbers change..."

"...he can change."

Phoebe frowned.

"You don't think he cares about people?"

Joanna looked out through the windshield for a long moment.

Finally she answered.

"I think Vince cares very deeply..."

She paused.

"...about what people can do."

"...and if you're helping his company succeed..."

"...he'll make you feel like the most important person in the world."

She looked over at the girls.

"...but if that changes..."

She shrugged gently.

"So can he."

Neither Phoebe nor Armintie spoke immediately.

They remembered the hug.

The praise.

The kindness.

It had all seemed genuine.

Joanna noticed the uncertainty on their faces.

"So don't misunderstand me."

She smiled.

"I'm grateful."

"He gave me opportunities nobody else did."

"He believed in Sugar Cane."

"He gave me tonight."

She glanced back toward the arena.

"...and for that..."

"...I'll always thank him."

Another quiet moment passed.

Then she added softly,

"I just never forget..."

"...that wrestling is still a business."

She put the car into gear.

Outside, the lights of the arena slowly disappeared behind them.

Ahead...

Waited Buffalo.

...and, somehow...

An even bigger stage than the one Joanna had just conquered.

The car rolled quietly out of the arena parking lot.

For several minutes, nobody spoke.

The glow of Guayaquil's streets reflected across the windshield as Joanna drove.

Finally she broke the silence.

"You know..."

"When you two get older..."

"...and you start dating..."

Both girls looked toward her.

"You're going to meet a lot of men like Vince."

Phoebe frowned.

"Like him?"

Joanna nodded.

"They'll be charming."

"They'll know exactly what to say."

"They'll make you feel important."

"They'll make you feel seen."

She paused.

"...but be careful."

"They may not actually be valuing you."

"They may be valuing what you'll do for them."

The girls grew noticeably quieter.

Armintie folded her arms.

"That's... kind of scary."

"It can be."

Phoebe looked out her window.

"How do we avoid men like that?"

Joanna smiled sadly.

"I wish there were an easy answer."

"There isn't."

"Narcissistic people don't walk around with a sign over their heads that says..."

She made quotation marks with one hand.

"'Stay away.'"

That drew a small laugh.

"Some make it obvious almost immediately."

"They're arrogant."

"They demand attention."

"They expect the world to revolve around them."

She shrugged.

"Others..."

"...can take months."

"Sometimes years."

The girls listened carefully.

"There aren't really universal markers."

"A lot of it comes down to trusting your instincts."

She glanced briefly toward Phoebe.

"If you start feeling like someone doesn't really care about you unless there's something in it for them..."

"...pay attention."

"If they constantly put their needs above yours..."

"...pay attention."

"If your value seems to depend entirely on what you can provide..."

"...pay attention."

She nodded once.

"Those are warning signs."

Silence settled inside the car.

Then Phoebe asked quietly,

"Was Zas a narcissist?"

Joanna looked over, surprised.

"What?"

Phoebe shrugged.

"He put what he thought we needed ahead of what we wanted."

"He did."

"So..."

"...was he?"

Joanna answered almost immediately.

"No."

"Not even close."

"In fact..."

She smiled to herself.

"...I honestly think Zas might be the least narcissistic man I've ever met."

Both girls looked confused.

"...but..."

"He still hurt us."

"He did."

Joanna didn't hesitate.

"...and nothing I'm about to say changes that."

She thought for a moment, searching for the right words.

"Here's the difference."

"Vince starts with himself."

"He asks..."

"'What do I need?'"

"'What helps me?'"

"'What builds my company?'"

"If helping you also helps him..."

"...wonderful."

She paused.

"Zas starts at the opposite end."

The girls waited.

"He doesn't ask..."

"'What can you do for me?'"

"He asks..."

"'What do you need?'"

"'How do I protect you?'"

"'How do I provide for you?'"

She smiled faintly.

"Then..."

"...he becomes completely fixated on solving that problem."

Armintie nodded slowly.

"That sounds like him."

"The trouble is..."

Joanna continued,

"...once Zas thinks he's found the solution..."

"...he stops asking questions."

"He doesn't stop and ask..."

"'Do you actually want me to solve it this way?'"

"He assumes..."

"'I've solved it.'"

Phoebe leaned back in her seat.

"So..."

"...he treated people like puzzles."

Joanna's face brightened.

"Exactly."

"That's exactly it."

She pointed gently toward Phoebe.

"It's almost like mathematics."

"If I give one person a problem..."

"...they might want me to add."

"Someone else might want me to multiply."

"Somebody else might not want me solving the problem at all."

She smiled sadly.

"You have to ask."

"Zas didn't."

"He genuinely believed he was helping."

"He just forgot that people aren't equations."

Silence filled the car again.

After a while, Joanna spoke once more.

"I honestly think the whole Order of the Blue Shield struggles with this."

"Why?"

Phoebe asked.

Joanna considered the question.

"They've survived because they depend on one another."

"They protect one another."

"They provide for one another."

"They often have to make decisions quickly."

"Sometimes..."

"...there genuinely isn't time for a committee meeting."

"If a child falls into freezing water..."

"...you don't ask permission before pulling them out."

"You just act."

Both girls nodded.

"That habit keeps people alive."

"It probably has for generations."

She looked thoughtfully at the road ahead.

"...but..."

"...they've carried that way of thinking into situations where time does exist."

"They've forgotten that 'sometimes' doesn't mean 'all the time.'"

"They're very good at deciding how to help."

"They're much less practiced at asking..."

"'How would you like me to help?'"

Phoebe stared quietly out at the passing city lights.

"I think..."

She smiled a little.

"...Dad's getting better."

Joanna smiled too.

"He is."

"...and do you know why?"

Phoebe already knew the answer.

"...Because he's finally asking."

Joanna nodded.

"For perhaps the first time in his life..."

"...he's learning that loving someone isn't just about giving them what you think they need."

"It's also about listening long enough to find out what they're asking for."

The car continued toward the hotel.

None of them spoke again for several minutes.

Some conversations...

Didn't need anything added once the lesson had settled in.

The redeye flight had accomplished exactly what redeye flights usually accomplished.

Everyone arrived exhausted.

By the time Joanna, Phoebe and Armintie checked into their hotel in Buffalo, they barely had enough energy to exchange a few words before collapsing into bed.

The room was silent within minutes.

Hours later...

Joanna slowly opened her eyes.

The room was still dim.

Phoebe had somehow managed to occupy nearly the entire second bed despite being the smaller of the two girls.

Armintie had responded by sleeping diagonally.

Joanna smiled.

She quietly slipped out of bed without waking either of them.

A few minutes later she stepped into the hotel lobby.

It smelled faintly of coffee and fresh pastries.

Perfect.

She had just started toward the breakfast area when she spotted a familiar blonde struggling with two rolling suitcases, a duffel bag and what appeared to be an overly optimistic carry-on balanced precariously on top.

"Carly?"

Carly Sweeting looked over.

"Oh!"

"Hi!"

The carry-on immediately slid sideways.

Joanna caught it before it hit the floor.

"...I had that."

"I'm sure you did."

Joanna picked up one of the heavier bags.

"You don't have to."

"I know."

"So why are you helping?"

Joanna smiled.

"Because that thing looks like it weighs more than you do."

Carly laughed.

"I packed for every possible weather condition."

"I can see that."

Together they walked toward the elevators.

Once Carly had everything safely inside her room, Joanna leaned casually against the doorway.

"Breakfast?"

Carly hesitated.

"Oh..."

"You don't have to."

"I know."

"I don't want to be a burden."

Joanna laughed.

"Carly."

"We're a tag team now."

"I think we're allowed to eat breakfast together."

That finally earned a smile.

"...All right."

A few minutes later they sat opposite one another in the hotel restaurant.

Neither conversation nor silence felt awkward.

They simply talked.

About the flight.

About Buffalo.

About how strange it was seeing photographs of icy northern landscapes decorating the hotel walls while tropical sunlight and the distant sound of waves filled the air outside.

Eventually...

The conversation naturally returned to Guayaquil.

"I still can't believe it."

Carly shook her head.

"The crowd."

"They just..."

She laughed.

"...they loved us."

"They really did."

Joanna smiled into her coffee.

"I've never heard anything like that."

"I don't think I have either."

Carly grinned.

"...and Vince actually smiled."

"He hugged me."

"He hugged me twice."

They both laughed.

"I wasn't sure he knew how."

"He does."

Joanna smiled knowingly.

"When business is good."

Carly stirred her tea.

"He gave me the house shows off too."

Joanna looked up.

"He did?"

"Mm-hm."

"I think he's changing all kinds of plans."

Neither woman complained.

Outside, Buffalo traffic slowly drifted past the hotel windows.

Inside...

The conversation gradually slowed.

Joanna noticed Carly growing quieter.

"You okay?"

Carly smiled automatically.

"Yeah."

Then...

"...just thinking."

She looked down at her cup.

"I always imagined..."

She laughed awkwardly.

"...I'd be here with someone."

Joanna waited.

"I was engaged once."

"You know that."

Joanna nodded.

"Porter."

"Yeah."

"I thought..."

She smiled sadly.

"...I thought I'd found the person I was going to spend my life with."

She shrugged gently.

"He had different ideas."

Silence settled between them.

"I had Larry-Joe after that."

Joanna smiled.

"I remember."

"The little pig."

"My little pig."

Carly laughed softly.

"He was a terrible listener."

"...but he always made me feel better."

Her smile faded again.

"I still reach for him sometimes."

Joanna reached across the table and gently squeezed Carly's hand.

"I'm sorry."

"He died last year."

"I know."

Another quiet moment passed.

"I'm thirty-two now."

Carly looked thoughtfully out the window.

"I keep thinking..."

"...shouldn't I be building a family by now?"

Joanna didn't interrupt.

"Then I look at you."

"You've got Phoebe."

"You've got Armintie."

"You've got Zas."

She smiled.

"It feels like everything just..."

She snapped her fingers.

"...appeared."

Joanna laughed.

"It definitely didn't feel that way."

"I know."

Carly smiled back.

"I'm not jealous because I want to take it away from you."

"I'm jealous because..."

She searched for the words.

"...I wish I could be that lucky."

Joanna reached across the table again.

"I hope you are."

Carly looked at her.

"I really do."

The sincerity in Joanna's voice made Carly smile.

Maybe...

She thought...

Luck wasn't the only thing she had found.

Maybe she'd found a friend.

---

A little while later, they walked back toward Joanna's room together.

Joanna quietly unlocked the door.

Almost immediately two sleepy faces looked up from the beds.

"Carly!"

Phoebe was fully awake before she'd even finished saying the name.

Armintie wasn't far behind.

"You came!"

Carly laughed.

"I wasn't sure I'd be welcome."

"What?"

Phoebe looked genuinely offended.

"Of course you're welcome."

Armintie immediately jumped off the bed.

"We're going to see the turtles!"

"You have to come."

Carly instinctively looked toward Joanna.

"I don't want to impose."

Before Joanna could answer...

Both girls spoke at once.

"You're not!"

"You have to!"

Carly looked back and forth between the three of them.

Then...

She laughed.

"...Well."

"I suppose turtles are more fun with friends."

Phoebe cheered.

Armintie nodded enthusiastically.

Joanna simply smiled.

Somehow...

Without anybody planning it...

Their little family had just become one person larger for the day.

 

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