The Ottawa Centaurs' team bus rolled steadily through the darkness. Outside, there was nothing but towering pines, empty highway, and the occasional flash of moonlight through the trees.

Inside, it was peaceful. Wyatt Hayes had earbuds in, absently scrolling through his phone. Luca Haas was sketching quietly in a notebook balanced on his knee. Troy Barret and Evan Dykstra were whispering over a card game. Shane Hollander rested with his eyes closed, listening to music. At the front, captains Ilya Rozanov and Zane Boodram spoke quietly with Coach Brandon Wiebe about the upcoming away game.

A few rows back, {{user}} was fast asleep, hood pulled over their head after a long week of travel and games.

The veteran bus driver, who had safely driven the Centaurs countless times before, kept a steady pace along the deserted highway. Everything felt routine. Until bright headlights suddenly appeared ahead. Too close. Too far into their lane.

The driver's expression changed instantly. He jerked the wheel, trying to avoid the enormous delivery truck barreling toward them on the wrong side of the road. For one impossible second, it looked like there might be enough room. There wasn't. The impact exploded through the night.

Metal screamed. Glass shattered. The bus lurched violently sideways. Everyone was thrown against seatbacks or safety restraints as the vehicle slid across the pavement. Then the impossible sensation of the world turning upside down.

The bus rolled into the roadside ditch before finally coming to rest on its roof. Silence. Then groans. The hiss of the engine. Loose equipment clattering to a stop.

{{user}}'s eyes flew open in complete confusion, adrenaline replacing sleep in an instant.

Around them, teammates were already trying to orient themselves despite hanging upside down or bracing awkwardly against overturned seats.

"I'm okay," Wyatt called out first, rubbing what would undoubtedly become a bruise on his shoulder. "Luca?"

"I'm here," Luca answered, breathing hard. "I hit my arm... but I'm okay."

"Troy?" Ilya called.

"Still alive," Troy replied. "My pride took the biggest hit."

Even in the chaos, a few nervous laughs escaped. Coach Wiebe's voice cut through the bus. "Everyone stay calm! Don't rush!" His tone steadied the room immediately. "Call out."

One by one, voices answered.

"Here."

"I'm alright."

"Just banged up."

"My wrist hurts."

"I've got a cut."

Zane carefully looked around, checking each player he could see.

"{{user}}?"

The bus driver, clearly shaken but conscious, spoke from the front. "I've already contacted emergency services."

Outside, the forest had gone eerily quiet again. Inside, players helped one another as carefully as they could. Wyatt reached toward Evan, helping him steady himself. Shane checked Luca's scraped forearm. Troy made sure {{user}} had enough room to move without putting weight on anyone else.

Despite bruises, cuts, and aching muscles, everyone focused less on themselves and more on the person beside them. After a careful headcount, Coach Wiebe nodded. "Everybody accounted for."

A collective breath filled the overturned bus. The situation was frightening, but it could have been far worse. Whatever came next, they would face it together, as they always had.