Sam huddled in Emily’s giant scarf as the pickup took them home. It wasn’t half as far as she expected, but then running in snow was a lot harder than on plain ground. 

There was a comfort in the glow of lights on the snow as they turned into the cul-de-sac. Sam could already hear Camilla shouting Caleb’s name from down the street.

Camilla and Rachel ran down from their house as Paul brought the truck to a halt. “Caleb March!” Camilla snapped. “Of all the hair-brained, ridiculous…”

“You can yell at him when he’s warm,” Paul said out the window. 

Emily hopped down from the cab and held out her arms to Sam. Sam slid across the bed of the pickup and hopped off, avoiding help. She could see Quinn silhouetted in their doorway, arms crossed. The shadows only made their scowl more pointed. Sam glanced back at Caleb as Emily’s arm on her back moved her into the house. He’d been quick to correct her when she worried about his punishment, but she’d made excuses like that before. The look on Camilla’s face did not imply “sit down and talk it out”. 

But it was only a few steps across the porch into the house, and then Sam had her own self to worry about. 

Quinn held up a thermometer. “Open.”

Sam obeyed, trying to watch both Quinn and Emily as the latter piled the living room blankets together. After an uncomfortable moment Quinn pulled the thermometer out and checked it.

They sighed. “Well, thankfully you’re not hypothermic. Go sit down on the couch.”

Sam suppressed a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold. An old man she’d once met on the road had shown her the stumps of three fingers he’d lost to hypothermia. She’d thought she’d internalized that lesson, but clearly she’d forgotten. She ought to know better.

Emily tucked blankets around her until Sam felt their weight pushing her into the couch. A hot water bottle pressed to her stomach made her skin tingle. She could feel the familiar sensation of pins and needles in her hands as they started to warm back up. Her stomach did a somersault. Why weren’t they saying anything? Emily was watching the kettle on the stove, while Quinn had vanished around the corner to the closet where they kept the house’s first aid kit. Only the crackle of the fire broke the silence. 

Sam felt the panic attack bubbling up into her throat and swallows hard. She tried to hold onto the memory of Quinn sitting beside her, explaining ways to make the fear go away. She thought of the horror on Caleb’s face as he caught up to her train of thought, of Iris’s soft touch on her shoulder. This foundation was sturdier than any she’d had before, but her mind simply refused to trust it.

“Sam? What’s wrong, baby?” Suddenly Emily was sitting next to her, holding a mug of some kind of tea. Sam realized she’d let a few tears slip.

She took the tea and soaked in the pleasant tingles washing across her palms. Emily wiped away the tears.

“Sam?” she asked again. Sam shrugged.

Emily stroked Sam’s hair, now wet from snow and sweat. “You’ll warm up in a minute,” she said absently.

Sam tried to relax as Emily pulled her hand away. She avoided whatever expression might be on her face.

It felt like an age before Quinn came back. They dropped into the chair across from the couch and leaned their elbows on their knees. “Sam.”

Sam snapped to attention.

“Why the hell did you do that?”

“The horse ran away,” Sam said, shrinking under her blankets. 

“I know that. Why the hell would you go after it?”

Sam grasped desperately for the right answer. “Horses are important.”

Quinn sighed, swiping back their bangs with one hand. “It’s twenty below, Sam. Do you understand how dangerous it is to be out without shelter? In a blizzard?”

“I made a shelter,” Sam said in a very small voice.

“How the hell did you make a shelter?”

“Caleb said she made an igloo,” Emily said. 

“Right.” Quinn exhaled. “Forgot about that.”

Sam felt like the floor had dropped out from under her. Forgot about it? Forgot about the thing that kept her up at night, that defined the whole of her existence? “What do you mean, you forgot about it?”

Quinn furrowed their brows at her. “What do I mean? I’ve never even seen you do magic. It —“

“It’s a wonderful gift, Sam,” Emily interrupted.

“No, it’s not,” Sam snapped. She cringed at her own tone. Her emotions were rushing towards something dangerous.

“Sam.” Quinn gave her a hard look. “I know we’ve all had a hard night, but let’s take a breath. I just want to make sure you understand that what you did was dangerous.” They sounded like they were talking to a toddler.

“I knew that!” Sam tried to pull the anger back into herself. 

“Then why —“

Emily held up a hand to cut them off. “Sam, you didn’t think we’d be upset about Hamlet, did you?”

No, she didn’t. She hadn’t been anywhere near the stupid horse, it wouldn’t make sense to blame her for it. Not that anyone had ever needed a reason to be mad at her. 

“It’s okay, baby, nobody’s mad at you.” Emily reached towards her hair again.

This time Sam dodged her. “Yes, you are.” 

“Baby —“ Emily’s eyes swam with pity and confusion. Something in Sam snapped.

“Stop saying that! You are mad! I’m not an idiot, I can tell.” 

“You almost died in the snow!” Quinn snapped back.

“You think I’ve never slept outside in a blizzard?”

Sam felt the air rush out of the room. She squirmed out from under the pile of blankets, suddenly too hot and unable to sit still.

“We’re not done here,” Quinn said.

A broken laugh escaped Sam before she could stop it. At least this time, she only had herself to blame. She should know better than to raise her voice. Yelling? Who did she think she was? She stopped with her back turned as her eyes started to sting. “What is it, then?” she asked, bringing her tone back under control. “Am I grounded?” Silence. “Whatever you’re going to do, just do it already. I’m sick of your pretending. You’re just doing this to make yourselves feel better, right? So whenever I snap you can say it was my own fault.”

  Sam felt like she was holding her breath, listening for their smallest motions. There was nowhere to run. Maybe if she cooperated they wouldn’t hurt her. When she heard one of them get up, she just braced herself.

Whichever of them it was stopped a bit behind her. But the force Sam expected didn’t follow. Instead, a shaking hand wrapped gently around one of hers.

“I should have taken more counselling courses,” Quinn said dryly. Sam chanced a look over her shoulder and saw they hadn’t moved from their chair. She followed the sound of a choking laugh to where Em knelt on the floor. Em looked up, eyes glistening with tears. Sam wasn’t sure what to do. She was wildly off-script. 

“I really want to hug you, but I’m sure you’d hate that.” Em let go of Sam’s hand and shifted to sit back against Quinn’s chair. “I won’t speak for Quinn, but I’m definitely not pretending.”

Quinn shook their head. “I’m sorry I scared you. Genuinely.”

Sam waited a moment. They held her gaze, Em still crying a bit for some reason. The adrenaline rushed out of Sam, and she sat down hard on the floor. She let herself fall back, staring at the ceiling, suddenly exhausted.

Em’s face appeared over hers a moment later. She brushed the side of her leg against Sam’s head. “You know,” she said, staring off in front of her, “it’s our own fault we’re impatient. It’s not like we got over our all our traumas in a couple weeks, either. I just remember how much it sucked and I don’t want that for you.” She reached towards Sam, then pulled away. “Sorry. Habit.”

Sam caught Em’s hand and pulled it back towards her own hair. “It’s okay,” she whispered. She kind of liked Em’s habit of playing with her hair.

Em smiled. “I’m sorry you didn’t find better people to help you.”

Startled, Sam sit up. “What are you talking about?”

“My parents didn’t exactly teach me how to do this right.”

Something about the pain in Em’s voice cut through the voices telling Sam this was a trick. She knew that look.

Sam wrapped both arms around Em, pulling her into a tight hug. Em went rigid for a moment, then softened and held Sam close.

“Did they hit you?” Sam asked softly.

She felt Em flinch a bit. “No. Just yelled.”

“Not better,” Quinn commented.

Sam nodded, pulling away so she could brush Em’s hair out of her eyes. “Not better,” she agreed.

Em laughed, resting her forehead on Sam’s. “Still think we’re pretending?”

“No.”