Welcome to my first RWBY fic. This is a slightly canon-divergent side story that was conceived shortly before the V6 premier. It takes place during the two-week timespan following the events at Haven Academy. Constructive criticism and general feedback is always appreciated, and I hope that you, dear reader, will enjoy this story as much as I enjoyed coming up with it. —Soj

I

Insomnia

It all began with a stinging pain in her absent hand.

Yang Xiao Long stirred in the long night and sat up to find herself alone in her quarters. She winced as she felt the beginnings of a headache, and she grasped at her scroll to check the hour. Its light pierced her eyes, the numbers 01:49 glaring back, and it didn't take her eyes watering to mark that act down as a mistake. She deftly flicked the screen shut and laid back, letting the dark soak back into her scalded eyes.

Outside the window towered the shade of the Mistral skyline, its buildings and crags sparsely illuminated by the few lamps that smoldered in the small hours of the morning. Fragmented lunar light shone in through her window from a cloud blotched sky, as it often had back in idyllic Patch. As her mind drifted Yang thought of home, and her mind flit back to her father and how he might be fairing in her, their, absence. She knew well that just because he put on a brave face when she left didn't mean that he didn't become an anxious mess an hour later.

After a few minutes staring off, Yang straightened her shirt and flopped back into her pillows, ready to again challenge the spectre of sleep. With resolve she slammed her eyelids shut and waited for drowsiness to come over her. On and off she scrunched her eyes as though the act of doing so would bid sleep to come, but the silence made it increasingly hard to relax. The noiselessness became loud, ringing, and it was drowned out only by the sound of her heartbeat thudding nervously in her ears. Her wakeful mind took that anxiety and betrayed her.

Blinding smoke. Bright yet glowering flames. Strident screaming. A flash of red. A searing pain. The smell of burning wood.

Her throat closed up. Her eyes snapped open. All desire to sleep had fled.

Though she knew she was as safe as she could hope to be, surrounded by her teammates and their friends and her sister and her uncle in this house, the dread that lingered in her core was something that only she could face.

And she didn't feel like facing it.

Yang grasped at the sheets. But when her fist closed around them, the blankets remained undisturbed. Yang puzzled for a moment on why, and then when the pain hit, she remembered her maimed arm. She eyed the shoulder, followed its line down to where her bicep suddenly terminated. She scoffed in spite of herself. How could she have forgotten? Sometimes it almost felt like it was still there. Then she'd look.

Her smile faded. She had to get out of here.

Yang suited up and donned her prosthetic arm. She still marveled at how such thing that was once unthinkable to her was now as much a part of a routine as brushing her teeth, or brushing out her enormous mane of blonde hair. Though it retained some scuffs from the brawl at Haven and the rigors of the road, it would seem new to any who didn't know better. Though it was bleeding edge Atlesian military technology, there was still the question of how soon it would need to be maintained, or if she would need to visit Atlas in the event of needing repairs. It was a gift, but it seemed like a loaded one at times.

Sneaking down the stairs and being mindful not to step on anything noisy or breakable or snoring, Yang stealthily reached the door and slipped out like a cat in the night. At the stoop she paused to stretch, embraced the cool air, then walked off towards the southern edge of town.

It was an arduous climb compared to her mostly flat terrained home. Even within the city, Mistral was fraught with steep hills. Domiciles and businesses of all sort were often built right into the cliff faces at some turns. Though it felt like a mountain hike more than a stroll, she persisted; a walk often helped her clear her head in older times, let her think without idling in a room, which bred restlessness for her.

Her other release was a ride on her beloved bike, but she dared not rev Bumblebee out of the consideration of her team.

Down a spiraling stairway carved out of a mountain's center she went, her feet pounding rhythmically upon the steps until she entered an almost meditative state. Out the tunnel she emerged at the base of the mount, out onto a dirt path.

As she continued, her bootheels sank further and further into the dirt path as the city center grew more remote, and before too long the treeline of the surrounding wood began to approach. With the moon and its fragments as bright as they were, it was not too difficult to see her surroundings. The warnings against being out in the woods alone at night were common wherever one went, but the Grimm near large cities were certainly not too much to handle on her own. Beowolves or Ursai, at worst. Just in case, she had her scroll and Ember Celica in stow.

The ambient light was made spotty by more than just clouds now; shadowy boughs hung overhead and further obscured the broken moonlight. Here Yang stopped and turned; Mistral lay somewhere beyond and below the hills further back. She was presently as far out as most people are willing to venture from civilization; only a few miles from the city limits, but more than far enough for the average citizen.

Her better judgment urged her to begin her return hike here, but Yang was curious as to why she hadn't seen any Grimm. Nothing so much as a Nevermore, in fact. Juvenile ones, at least, were everywhere.

"Weird," she said to herself, thinking out loud. Yang began to turn back towards the gloom when she heard a twig break. She whirled in place, gauntlet deployed with a familiar series of metal clicks. Her eyes widened to their limits in the deeping night, but she was still unable to spot anything in the shadows.

Stop being so jumpy, she thought. It was probably just an animal.

Yang thought about heading back, but the idea of being alone with her thoughts again was enough to freeze her feet in place. Her indecision bubbled its way to the surface, and she looked at her hands as she balled them into tight, trembling fists.

Was this what she was reduced to? Being afraid of the visions in her head? If she couldn't face her inner fears, how could she hope to face the terrors that surely lay ahead?

The howling face of Salem, conjury though it was, flashed vividly in her memory.

She broke her dark reverie and snapped her eyes back to the edge of the path. Movement again. A silhouette too big to be a raccoon, as her fevered mind randomly imagined. It stiffened as it was noticed and began to inch away. Yang fought an urge to shoot off her weapon and opened her mouth to yell at the figure, but she was interrupted by it before the words could form.

"Yang," it called. She jerked back at the voice, familiar and cool, but strange still. The dark dissolved and Blake's pale features came into view beneath the dappled light. "What are you doing out here?"

"That's my line, Blake," she said, following a scoff. "How long have you been stalking me?"

Blake raised her hands defensively. "I wasn't st—" Her voice trailed off, and she seemed to think better of denying it. "Since you left the house," Blake sighed. "I was up already, reading," she continued, "and I heard you tossing around in the next room. Then, I heard the door. I went to check and make sure that everything was alright, then one thing led to another and… here we are." She shrugged.

"Huh," the blonde intoned. "Okay." Yang went nonchalant and put her hands behind her head. She wasn't surprised that Blake was able to track her even with the lead she thought she had, but it didn't make her feel better about being caught.

"You're upset, aren't you?" Blake's ears pinned back and forth. It was hard for Yang to determine whether it was an emotional reaction or if something else beyond her perception was taking Blake's interest.

"You think?" Yang said in a way that didn't expect an answer.

Blake fixed her eyes on Yang and searched for clues in her face. The blonde was not at liberty to do the same; the faunus had her at a disadvantage in the dark. But Yang didn't need night vision to sense her mutual unease.

"Yang, we should go back," said Blake as she drew her hands around her shoulders. Her eyes darted around. "If there's something that's bothering you, I'll gladly listen." Blake tried not to look at the sliver of light reflected by Yang's metal fingers. "I'm sure you've had a lot to process since Beacon, and I owe you the time to share it." She stopped herself. "If you want to."

It was harder for Yang to put up a wall of cheer around her emotional injuries after everything that had happened. She tried to form a skewed smile, but it never quite reached her eyes, which gave her a sardonic air.

"What's there to tell?" Yang deflected, palms upward. "I recovered. I came out to join Ruby. And I found the rest of my team along the way." She stalked a step in no particular direction. "It looks like we've all had our struggles getting to this point; why should I cry to you about mine?"

Blake put a hand to her lips. It was clear that that wasn't the answer she was expecting to her offer. She should have known it wasn't going to be so simple to regain the easy rapport they once had. Her feline ears couldn't keep from betraying her disappointment.

"Because," Blake said nervously, "that's what friends should do. Friends, teammates. Two things I haven't been very good at being lately." Her words seemed to gain resolve as she went along, and this reflected in her posture; she straightened up and held her head a little higher. "I spent a lot of time acting like a lone wolf, Yang, and I know now that I don't have to do that. I just never wanted to involve anyone else in the ugly things that followed me. But I…" She considered the wisdom of her next words and persisted anyway. "I'm seeing you fall into the same trap I was in. It's like you think you have to deal with things on your own."

Yang folded her arms, unconvinced. "Well, maybe that's just because I had to adjust to dealing with things on my own." She was none too subtle about what she was referring to. The unvarnished guilt on Blake, from the slump of her shoulders and the way she protected her body with one arm to the cast out look in her eyes said that she got the message loud and clear.

Yang stared hard, but she realized that couldn't stand the sight of it. Her stomach knotted and she sighed.

"You don't have to feel like you're responsible for this." Yang's fingers drummed a jingle out against her steely forearm. "I lost my cool and I paid for it." A smile formed, less sarcastic and more resigned. "I'm lucky I didn't pay with my head. When I heard you yell, I just… saw red."

"Stop." Blake dared to shove Yang, if just lightly. "Just stop it. No more dead friends. No… dead you." Her hand slid down the sleeve of Yang's jacket and her fingertips glanced over the cold prosthesis. Her eyes welled up, and whatever veneer of control Blake had put up fell away.

"I am so sorry," she said, her normally mellow voice cracking.

"Blake…"

Yang took hold of Blake's wrist and massaged the heel of her hand. The stony cast in her lavender eyes softened and went unfocused. Her mouth parted to speak but words failed, stopped short by something else. The air went tense in a way that raised the hairs on her neck, but not because of the discussion. Red points, like eyes, gathered in the gloom.

Where the wood had been near to silent, now there were snarls rumbling out from somewhere just beyond perception.

"Hey, dry your eyes," Yang said wryly. "I'm gonna need them."

Blake by now had sensed the change in the air as well, certainly heard the cacophony of hostile sounds around them. She dragged her sleeve across her face and stowed her melancholy, and through bleary eyes she scanned the boughs and underbrush.

"There are a dozen nevermores that I can see. Just as many beowolves are gathered as well." Blake's breath hitched, as though she feared the sound of her words. "Why? We're too close to the city for there to be this many."

"Qrow did say Mistral's seen a lot of its huntsmen go missing," Yang whispered. "I guess this is one of the things that happens when you don't have 'em around. The pest population explodes." It was all Yang could do to keep herself from slapping her head and calling herself stupid for even taking this little expedition in light of that. "Let's try to go back."

Blake gave a hum and a nod and began to lead.

The Grimm in the woods were not having it.

The beat of wings in the treetops grew louder and more restless, and one caw became many as the nevermores took wing. These were small, but numerous; they swooped on the two huntresses with talon and beak. Young and inexperienced, these Grimm had their lives summarily cut short by shotgun blast and whirling blades. As quickly as it began, the skirmish was ended. Only one survivor remained, and it flew off complaining loudly until its scolding disappeared somewhere further to the south. Blake and Yang stood back to back, black mist and frayed feathers dissolving around them.

"What now?" Blake asked. Her eyes darted at the sound of a beowolf's howling.

"Fight everything I just woke up? Nah. Let's go. Go!"

They took off in a sprint, trying to put as much ground between themselves and the gathering barks as they could. At first they were shoulder to shoulder, but Blake inevitably began leading. Her natural agility combined with her night vision gave her the crucial extra awareness that someone like Yang lacked to make sure they weren't stepping into a snagging root.

Such as she did.

Yang rattled her skull as she hit the dirt. The grit got between her teeth as she scrambled to her knees. Blake's hand found her own and hoisted her to her feet. Yang ignored the dull ache in her ankle and hoped it would go away sooner than not.

The sound of snapping teeth was practically in her ears. Yang did as she would and blasted the first trees she saw on her nearside, bringing them down. The crash of canopies broke up the pack of feral Grimm and slowed them, if only a bit. It gave them a good lead and the baying grew more and more remote until it couldn't be heard over the huntresses' combined panting.

The girls crested the last hill in the wood and saw the stretch back towards Mistral. They were still a ways off but relief was in sight.

"You're limping," Blake said raggedly. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah!" Yang grimaced, knowing her act was transparent. "Peachy. I'll just—" A pause, a wince. "—ice it down when we get back to the house..."

A chorus of howls was reminder enough that though they were out of the forest, they were not out of the woods. They took off again up the road.

"You followed me all this way out of town and you couldn't be bothered to tell me you were there sooner?"

"I didn't want to—I didn't want to make you mad." Blake turned her eyes away, feeling that guiding the way was a good excuse for it. "I'm surprised you didn't sense me sooner. Wait!" She stopped, her boots kicking up dust. "Can you hear that?"

Yang came to a halt alongside Blake and sharpened her ears. She darted her eyes around, unsure of what she was trying to hear. "The beowolves gave up?"

"Yeah, but that's not…"

A tremor rippled beneath their feet.

"What in the—!"

Blake threw herself into Yang just as the road heaved upward where they stood. As they tumbled down the incline back the way they came, a dark, sinuous shape erupted from the newly formed pit. On their feet again, the huntresses saw themselves reflected in the blood red eyes of a monstrous snake, its forked tongue sampling the shock and fear from between its fanged maw.

Yang allowed herself to gape at the biggest King Taijitu she had ever laid eyes on, then she shook her head out of the stupor. "I know they say that the space between kingdoms is dangerous. But things out here are worse than anyone said. A King Taijitu on the kingdom's doorstep!?"

Gambol Shroud was out and ready. "We'll have to slay it," Blake intoned.

The two girls stood opposite of where they wanted to be. Before them the giant Grimm reared as it seemed to evaluate them. Its form rippled and it began to pull its body further out of the hole.

"Don't let it get out!"

Yang dug her heels in and fired the first shots. "Got it!" she yelled, while the spray of her attack glanced off of the Taijitu's armored face; it did little damage, but it accomplished what Yang needed it to and got the serpentine Grimm to lunge at her first. She launched herself towards the snake and fired her gauntlets groundward, giving her further altitude and overextending the foe's balance.

Blake took advantage of the opening and went for the exposed throat. She pounced, diving in and out of the shadow and whirling by. Four lines ripped open on the grimm's skin and spewed black mist. Above, Yang's guns boomed and shots panged. She balanced precariously on the serpent's back, clumsiness owed to her bruised ankle. The snake opened its mouth wide and struck with all its fangs.

There was a bang, and in the clearing smoke it snapped only its own flesh, causing it to jump and flail in whatever analogue of pain Grimm were capable of feeling. Again, Blake took another pass, and again she struck in nearly the same spot as last time, leaving a criss-cross of hissing wounds. Yang came down like a meteor on the Grimm's head, causing the massive skull to bounce off the ground just as Blake cleared it. Yang landed beside her, and she heaved a breath she had been holding.

"I forgot how tough these guys could be," she snarled.

"I take it you haven't fought any Grimm in a while?"

Yang looked momentarily embarrassed. "Nope. But watch me!" She pounded her fists together. "It'll be like riding a bike!"

Blake nodded, and the two lunged forward. She broke left, and Yang went right. They both then dove in at the stunned creature's head. Blake's unsheathed blade sank into the snake's garnet eye. Its reaction was cut short by the impact of an uppercut that sent it reeling back. The snake recovered more quickly than previously, and it struck this time at Blake. Its jaws came down on her, or rather, a substitute of her. The brief confusion let her strike a slashing blow to its snout as she faded back.

Yang came down on its skull again like a comet. White chips of bony plates went flying as her metal fist breached the Taijitu's armor. But annoy it is all that did, and it flicked Yang up into the air.

Blake reacted and threw her blade at Yang. It changed forms midflight as she held the tether, and Yang was adroit enough to catch the weapon with only a slight fumble. Blake yanked her out of the path of closing jaws once again, and when she landed, Yang lunged again, keeping momentum.

"Bring us around!" Yang shouted, and Blake smirked as she cottoned onto what the blonde was doing. Of one mind in the moment, Blake hung on and let Yang accelerate with her gauntlet, turning her into a golden-haired wrecking ball as they had a number of times before.

The impact shattered the remnants of the Taijitu's face plating and convinced the snake that nothing was worth the trouble these two huntresses had given it. With a hiss of resignment it pulled itself back into the pit.

Yang tumbled and landed next to Blake. "Now's our chance!"

"Yang, wait—!"

Blake found herself scooped up and flying through the air as Yang tried to get them both past the serpent's hole, just in case it decided it wanted to go another round.

The ground exploded as before, but shortly behind them. The percussive force threw off Yang's trajectory, and she twisted to land on her back and shield Blake from the impact. They tumbled apart and rose to their feet, ready to break. Before Yang, out of the dust cloud, screamed the white half of the King Taijitu, mouth open and fangs bared.

They closed around her.

Blake restrained her horror and leveled Gambol Shroud at the beast, loosing several shots into its face. She sighed in relief when she saw Yang was still there, her hands seized around the snake's fangs and boots braced against the lower jaw. Her metal hand shattered the fang it closed around, and Yang proceeded to fire several shots into the snake's throat. Its mouth contorted as it refused to loosen its grip, but also failed to shut on the huntress.

They seemed to have the upper hand, up to the moment that Blake noticed how the King Taijitu's muscles rippled in retrograde—that the snake was about to dive back into its burrow, her teammate in tow.

She lunged forward and threw her blade out once again, ribbon streaming behind it. She timed the trigger on it such that it wound around Yang's waist like a grappling hook. And as she expected, the albinic head began to sink backwards. Yang had noticed and discharged two shots to discourage it just enough to bolt out, and she succeeded.

Momentarily. The fangs seized on her injured ankle, and Yang let out a cry of surprise as she jerked backwards. The unbearable force continued to pull her downwards until she disappeared past the mouth of the pit.

Blake dug in her heels. "No!" she shouted as though the Taijitu might comply, and she wound the ribbon again over her forearm. The faunus pulled back with all her force, but the soil beneath her could not bear them and she left deep gouges in the earth.

Yang's shots continued to ring out and red light flashed in the dark, clear that she was trying to get loose. The ground, weakened by the burrowing, could not bear the weight of Yang, Blake and the snake. It crumbled, and they all went tumbling into the abyss.