A blood-red figure strode across the cliffs. Fierce wind ripped at its long cloak, covering its head from the howling wintery gales that were far too common as of late. The figure didn't care. Step by step, second by second, it was getting closer to its destination, its black and red boots ruthlessly crushing the pure white snow below. Finally, it stopped dead, lowering its head in respect.
"It's been a month now…"
A small light grey grave lay in front of the figure, embedded into the ground at an unusual angle, as if it had been thrown out of a moving cart. Whether the once-person it represented was truly beneath the grey rock was unclear, but to the blood-red figure, none of that mattered.
"I…I was going to bring you some flowers, but…none of Dad's roses made the trip."
Even amidst the flaying wind and gently falling snow, one could still see a hint of a white cloak similar to the figure's, floating mysteriously above the gravestone. Some might have called it a ghost, a phantom...a memory.
"I'm sorry, Mom…"
With a dramatic flip, the figure sent its hood flying back, revealing the melancholy face of a teenage girl. Her hair was quickly filled with tiny snowflakes, but her black and red tones made themselves clear regardless. Her eyes, meanwhile, were as grey as the gravestone before her, yet they projected a kind of tender-heartedness that would be all too scarce in the times ahead. Now, however, her silver-grey orbs were filled with unfamiliar pangs of sadness and regret.
"You probably wouldn't believe it, but I made it to Beacon two years early! I know, I know, you're probably worried about me, but it's for the best, really! I've made loads of new friends, like Weiss, Blake, Jaune…I'm sure you'd love them."
The young girl sighed.
"If you were here…"
Another period of silence filled the cliffs. The vicious wind that had blown so freely beforehand had finally died down, as if also paying its respects to the fallen mother. Even the beowolves, known for their terrifying presence in the Glacial Forest, were nowhere to be seen or heard. To anyone else, this would have been strange, eerie…but for the girl, this was a relief. A time to reflect.
"I even became the leader of a team! I mean, me, Ruby Rose! I thought I couldn't lead a dog on a walk, much less real life people! But here we are, I guess…it's like one of those stories Yang used to read. The true companions come together to save the day, to stop some sort of terrible thing from happening! Or um, something like that. I kind of wished you could have read me some too, but you were always busy with being a huntress...keeping us safe."
Ruby stepped lightly towards the grave, seemingly passing through the ephemeral white cloak in the process.
"You always said we should help people, make the world a better place. I don't know if you really wanted me and Yang to be huntresses…maybe you would've been worried that we'd get hurt. But I've got friends now, people like Weiss and Blake to watch over me, to help me bounce back up when I fall! Uncle Qrow taught me how to use Crescent Rose, and I won't disappoint him…or you."
"I'll become a huntress, I'll protect people...I'll be a hero! You'd…you'd be so proud of me…"
Ruby laid a delicate hand onto her mother's grave, a lone tear running down her cheek.
"If you were here…"