Chapter 1: First Lap

Ashen white snow settled on the track field of Signal Academy. On the empty crimson bleachers, a layer of frost clinging to their sheer aluminum surface. On the artificial grass, never to feel the cold flakes that wedged themselves between ever green spears. On the paved yellow path, buried by the sky's burden to bear the seasons. The powdery down drifted listlessly through the air, nary a breeze to guide its path. Nary a sound to break the surreal silence.

Blake shivered inside the black hoodie and slacks she'd been given to wear. Ears hidden within a bow flicked now and then to dust off the snow, but could still hear nothing. No jokes, no laughter. Nothing but the alternating wet crunch of four feet as they trudged onward to the starting line.

She stole a glance at her partner – she shook her head, correcting herself – at Yang. Brilliant yellow shined against the backdrop of white. A worn yellow tracksuit and a tired smile. Weary amethyst eyes noticed her own.

Blake flinched away, hugging her left arm to herself. "Sorry."

Yang exhaled her frustration, the wispy white cloud pushing against Blake's chest. "Come on." She felt the gentle grip of Yang's hand on her shoulder, tugging her until the faded six on the ground became a nine. "Ready?"

"Yang, wait." Blake spun on her heel and grabbed Yang's arm. Her right arm. Every muscle in Blake's body tensed up as Yang turned her head to face her, resisting the urge to fling herself away. Her stomach lurched, overturning the guilt that still sat there since she'd started running that night. "You really brought me out here just to go jogging?" She released her grip slowly, convincing herself that her hand trembled from a brisk breeze.

Yang noticed, of course. She'd been doing a lot more of that. Her eyes never left Blake even as she reached up and arched back to stretch her back. "Yup. Helps clear my head." She leaned from side to side, a cacophony of painful pops crackling at each motion. "Figured you could use it too. You know, after yesterday."

She reached up to brush some stray locks by her temple, her hand lingering there long enough to feel the vein throb. "I guess it couldn't hurt." Downcast eyes were focused back into the depths of her mind, the gears straining and failing to come to terms with how unreal this all was. It was all she could do just to go through the motions, one hand stretching the opposite arm across her chest. "You just got back last night, though. Shouldn't you rest?"

Justified resentment flashed through Yang's eyes. "I spent an entire week resting." But then they softened a bit, to a motherly glare that chided her. "And the next three getting back on my feet. Honestly, I'm more worried about you."

It was impossible to look her straight in the eye. "I'm fine, Yang." Which was more than true. Sure, her muscles still ached, but it wasn't like she hadn't deserved it. Besides, it had been the first time she'd slept in a warm bed or had a hot meal in a month. The generosity had been undeserved. "I'm fine."

Yang moved so that she could grasp Blake's shoulders, a sense of déjà vu striking her as amethyst trapped amber. "Okay. Then just bear with me for now." Her hands trailed warmth until they could clasp Blake's. Impossibly firm and gentle as she remembered them.

Blake pursed the lips of her parted mouth back shut, no meaningful words to return. She nodded and turned around, backs to each other. "So. Three laps to a mile, right?"

The padding of rubber soles on the track turned to beats in a coarse rhythm as Yang ran in place. "And a high-five at each pass. I'll smack you in the face if you forget."

Blake snorted, unable to stop the corners of her lips from turning up. "Right."

"Alright, let's go!" At Yang's impromptu signal, Blake broke into a brisk jog herself, but not without checking in the opposite direction. Yang's form grew smaller in the distance, streams of flaxen hair bouncing behind her. It was all too familiar. The hole in her gut was still too raw.

Blake clenched her jaw, teeth grinding together to hold back shameful tears. She clenched her eyes before focusing back front, picking up the pace. The scenery smudged into a haze of white, cold and numb.

All except for the single spark of gold now running across from her.

Blake collapsed, shrunk prone onto the roof she watched from, breath caught in her throat. No. No, no, no, no, no. Just wait until she passes. Her wound ached as it chafed against the icy ceramic tiles. She'd get back to Tukson's and make a plan. Vale had been a mistake. It was too close. She curled into herself, shivering and hugging her legs tightly. The many tears in her stockings stung with the cold. She had to run further, faster. To Vacuo, maybe. She could use that airship ticket she found. Anywhere else. Anywhere away from her.

She bounded across the rooftops, the freezing air whipping past her as she pushed against it. Out the corner of her eye, she could make out a sparkle of orange peeking above a curtain of navy blue. No time to lose. Run. Further. Faster. She dropped down behind the building, recognizing the maroon brick caving in the back entrance. Eyes flitting this way and that, she crept around the back alley that led to the storefront. Boarded up windows and faded golden letters.

Blake cracked open the door, nothing but the musty smell of old paper to greet her as she slipped through. She kicked aside a couple of books on her mad dash to the bathroom. Her face was hot. She twisted the faucet on and splashed sobering water onto her face. Her heart was pounding, breath still catching up with her as she raised her face to the mirror. Matted hair and dark circles under glowing, feral eyes. Like before. Worse.

With the sink full, she pressed her face into the clear surface. She had to keep up the act. Act like she didn't care. The water wicked away the tears that should be streaming down her face. That girl was better off without her. She willed away the insistent shaking in her shoulders. Maybe, with enough time, she could convince herself of that.

Jingling. Blake shot straight up, eyes wide. Wiping off the water with her sleeve, she squat down against the doorframe. First thing she'd done here was remove that bell above the door. She'd left it right on the counter next to the register. Did it fall over?

Jingling. Red eyes behind a Grimm mask still branded her mind. Clenching Gambol's hilt, she peered out into the hallway.

Amber locked with lilac. The ivory trench coat hid most of her body, but strands of yellow still spilled out from the sides, catching cracks of pale morning light. The bell sounded one more time with a flick of her left wrist, beckoning her.

Every instinct told Blake to run, every muscle coiled so tightly that it hurt. The back entrance was sealed. The only way out was through that door. Blocked by the very person she was running from. Blake stood up stiffly and walked to the counter. "Yang."

"Hey."

Blake froze. It suddenly became hard to breathe. Her legs shuddered even as she clenched her teeth and balled her hands into fists, willing them to stand their ground. How did Yang find her? "Yang. Why are you here?"

It was strange, the look Yang was giving her. Out of place. Blake had expected red fire in those eyes. Rage. Fury. Indignation for all the injustices inflicted upon her. "I should be asking you that." Behind lilac there was none of that. Only a fire that burned brighter than it ever had before, but focused, fixated through lenses that burned all the way down into her core.

A deer in the headlights, she couldn't help but take a step back, turning her face away. "The White Fang has to be stopped. Now more than ever."

Yang heaved a breath full of pity and strolled towards her. "So you're gonna stop them. All of them. All by yourself."

Cowardly, confused tears welled in the corners of her angry eyes. She took another step back. "I just need to stop him. I won't let him hurt anyone else." Out the corner of her eye, she traced the line of Yang's right shoulder, bracing herself for guilt to once more inflame the wound Adam had left. Her coat was baggy, making it hard to define her features, but it was impossible to miss the fullness of the right sleeve or the tips of five fingers poking from the end. Blake couldn't hide the hitch in her breath or stop her eyes from widening. How . . .

Yang caught her mid-step, holding her squarely by the shoulders so she couldn't retreat. Her inescapable, hypnotic gaze sent all of Blake's thoughts, her planned pretenses, spiraling into chaos. "Is that why you ran away?"

Her lips fumbled for more fake excuses, only the cracked sounds of unformed words making it up her throat. Her eyes wandered again to Yang's right arm, severed, consumed in the red of Adam's semblance. Her breaths became erratic, panicked. Her eyes cowered as Yang searched them, hoping she wouldn't see the white mask imprinted inside.

"You're scared of him." Yang's left hand ghosted over the scar on Blake's stomach, sending a tremor through her body. Blake fidgeted, shamefully shying away from her touch. "What else did he do to you? What did he say?"

It wasn't fair how easily his words came. They slithered under her skin every day, echoed in the back of every thought, struck with fever dreams every night. "I will make it my mission to destroy everything you love." The walls of her throat closed up, suddenly dry. She swallowed the bitterness. "Starting with her."

Warmth stunned her. Yang's head nuzzled her shoulder, her arms wrapped around her back. For a few long seconds, Blake forgot to breathe. And even as her legs finally gave out, Yang didn't let go, instead embracing on penitent knees. "I knew it. I knew it, you big . . . dummy." Blake closed her eyes and allowed her cheek to brush Yang's. Her soul, starved by the cold, couldn't resist the welcoming heat. She cursed her own weakness. Was this the extent of her will? Hadn't she been ready to run forever, if that would keep Yang safe?

Red eyes shrieked, descending on her from the blackness behind her eyelids. Foolish courage pushed Yang away, scrambling for her footing. "I have to go."

"You're not going anywhere." Yang stepped out into a wide stance and spread her arms as far as they would go. "Not without me."

Blake set her mouth into a firm line. "The guilty always run, Yang."

She charged at Yang, right fist raised. A look of startled surprise was the last thing she saw before she activated her Semblance. It would buy her enough time to make it through that door and find a place to hide. Hide and then run.

Jingling was the last thing she heard before the pain. A palm slammed into her shoulder, knocking her splay across an avalanche of hardbacks. She hunched over to shake off the dizziness, the bell's terse notes ringing with each sudden movement. It chose now to fall out of her scarf, the cursed chime petering out as it rolled across the floor.

"You know, I thought about tying a bell on you as a joke once." The floor squeaked under Yang's approaching footsteps. Forcing anger through her veins, Blake reached back for her weapon. "I'm beginning to think that it's actually a good idea." She rose to the ruffle of cloth cast aside and mechanical whirring. The Hunter she recognized, but not her weapon. Full gauntlets of gold extended out to her elbows, protruding past them in two long spikes: a longer gold on her right, a shorter black on the left. Gambol Shroud suddenly felt so inadequate. "Don't do this."

"Get out of my way." Blake leapt up and slashed down with both hands. Yang would take the hit. Yang would block and her counter would hit a shadow clone and she would escape.

Gambol Shroud's edge met only air. A spinning heel to the stomach sent Blake careening into the opposite wall. The books raining down drowned her in a cloud of dust that invaded her burning throat. She sputtered and coughed and glared at Yang, who sauntered towards her, radiating confidence. "Make me."

Blake staggered back onto her feet, head bowed. Deserved pain seeped through her aura. "Get out of my way, Yang." A metallic clink struck the air as she withdrew Gambol from Shroud. Long since empty of dust rounds, the pistol grip was much lighter, less lethal in her hand. "Please." She gripped tighter. "Just get away from me."

Shroud slashed high to catch against a waiting black stinger while Gambol slid between Yang's ankles to snag the left. She ducked down and slid behind, yanking the ribbon with all her strength. Yang would at least stumble, if not fall flat on her face.

It was Blake who staggered forward as the ribbon gave out, suddenly trapping nothing. Gambol swung back around, only to be intercepted by a tight grip at the joint of the blade. When Yang raised her other fist, she would cast off a clone. Blake swallowed. Yang would be free of her.

There was a moment of complete stillness as the short strand of yellow fluttered to and fro between them. Then came the sickening crack. Pieces of her blade clattered to the floor in time with the metallic chinks of Ember Celica deactivating. Yang's shoulder sent her flying, Gambol and Shroud abandoning her as she skidded uselessly across the floor, only coming to a stop when her back collided with the counter. The curtain of gold filling Blake's blurry eyes grew closer, until she could feel Yang grip her scarf, pulling her close. "Will you just calm down? I can help."

The tears came to her desperate defense. "He's my problem, Yang."

"I know." Yang's left hand twisted tightly against Blake's neck, her right raised, but only half-clenched. How was there still not a hint of red in those eyes? "But what can you do? If he walked through that door, what could you possibly do?"

For just a moment, Blake was back in that empty classroom. The same question. The same stubborn answer. "I'd stop him!" They had been too innocent then, Beacon too kind. There had always been the inevitable implication that Blake couldn't bring herself to voice, one that always stalked her from the shadows of her mind. But now, as it took the form of a masked man, looming over Yang with sword drawn, its presence choked the last words out of her. "Or die trying."

Yang's fist moved in the blink of an eye, hovering a few inches from her head. A wild gust streamed out across the ridges of her face, a tornado of tomes exploding out from around them. It hit her. This whole time. Every single motion. Yang had literally been fighting with one hand tied behind her back. No rage. No semblance. No right hand.

"Yang . . ." Strangled sobs stressed her pleas. "Please . . . let me go."

"No, I won't." Yang pulled her into another embrace, its crackling hearth consuming her. "I won't let you give it all up." One hand rubbed up and down the length of her spine while the other held her close. "You don't have to run from me."

The overwhelming warmth untangled the knot in her throat, releasing the wretched wails confined behind it. "I'm sorry . . . Yang . . . I'm so sorry."

"It'll be okay." Yang's whispers burned into her shoulder hotter than the tears did. "It'll be okay, Blake." A new fit of sobs broke free as familiar feelings shuddered throughout her body. That day, she'd resigned never to hear her name uttered like that again – to hear it so full of friendship and fondness and, heaven forbid, forgiveness. Yet here Yang was. It was everything she thought she never wanted. She cried.

The morning sun had fully risen by the time they stopped, bathing the room in wide shafts of yellow. One caught Blake square in the eyes as she lifted her moist face from Yang's shoulder. She crimped them shut and rubbed at them, trying to remove the spots from her vision.

Yang chuckled softly. "Guess you're feline a little better?"

Pulling away, Blake heaved a sigh. "Thank you, Yang. For everything."

Yang smiled. For a little while, at least. As soon as her eyes scanned Blake up and down, her features fell. "Geez, Blake. I didn't notice because it was so dark, but . . . you look awful."

It took a long, silent moment to process, but even with one hand covering her mouth, Blake couldn't contain the sheer amusement that bubbled up in her chest. Giggles burst forth into full-fledged laughter, infectious enough that Yang joined the chorus, their voices intertwining in a melody of mirth as they fell back to the floor. She laughed so hard that her stomach hurt, so hard that could no longer feel the old wound. For a month's worth of the worst kind of pain, she laughed.

And she decided that Yang was right. They weren't okay. The silence now between them, once comfortable, felt awkward. It probably would be a while before they would be okay. Yang's nervous eyes flitted this way and that out the corner of Blake's eye, pretending not to not track her every movement.

But it was going to be okay.

Blake looked up from her position, laying on her back. Yang was on her side, propped up on one elbow, eyes lost in thought. "Yang?"

"Hmm? What's up?" Standing up with a strained grunt, Yang offered a hand to Blake, pulling them both back up to their feet. "Hold on a sec." She stooped down to pick up the fallen trench coat and wrapped it around Blake's shoulders. "Take this. You need it more than I do." Blake melted into the silk lining and scent of lavender. "So . . . you needed something?"

Blake breathed out a shaky laugh. "No, never mind, Yang. Let's go." She shuffled towards the door absentmindedly, probably a lot quicker and a lot quieter than Yang had been expecting. Otherwise, she might not have chosen that exact moment to stretch out both her arms and clothesline her.

Falling was nothing new to Blake. She'd been tossed around enough to know the delightful vertigo of being off-balance. Neither was getting hit. Yang's forearm pressing against her face merely registered as numb stinging in her nose and mouth followed by dull throbbing. No, what she could never get used to was the disorientation that came with being inside of her head only to be defenestrated through her very own eyes.

"Blake! Shoot, can you hear me?"

Blake could, despite the high-pitched tone in her ears. She groaned. Shaking her head helped regain her senses, one-by-one returning until she could feel Yang jostling her shoulders and the light poking under her eyelids no longer blinded her. She blinked her eyes open several times, Yang's concern eventually focusing into full clarity. "What happened?"

Yang let go of her held breath. "Oh, thank goodness." Her hand supported the small of Blake's back as she attempted to walk on wobbly, newborn legs. "You tagged me on the first one. I thought you'd be ready." Patting away the last of the styrofoam snow from Blake's hoodie, Yang tilted her head with an embarrassed half-smile. "My bad."

"You did warn me." Blake kicked her legs out to the side one at a time, shaking life back into them. "I was probably still half asleep."

Yang's brow furrowed, hand supporting her chin in her best impression of a Thinker. "Might have been a good idea to have breakfast first." Blake saw the metaphorical light bulb twinkle in her eye. "Yeah. Let's do that."

"Wait, what?" Her other questions were shaken off by the jolts of her own fumbling gait. Yang had abruptly drawn her by the arms to the concrete base on which the bleachers sat. "Hold on, Yang, that won't be . . ." Necessary to curse the wrenching gurgle of her stomach for destroying her credibility.

Yang chuckled, of course. "Looks like someone's hungry. Wait here. I'll be right back." After giving Blake another reassuring slap on the arm, she ran to the edge of the bleachers and vanished behind it.

Blake found herself reaching after Yang until a frosty breeze snuck its way into her sleeve. She hugged her arms to herself. Sure, the short sprint had gotten her blood flowing, but her teeth still chattered from the cold conforming to the contours of her uncovered face. Where was Yang going to get food anyway? The school was closed for winter break. Including the cafeteria.

She huffed into cupped hands and rubbed them together. Well, whatever. Knowing Yang, she'd come up with something. Knowing Yang. Blake cracked open the book formed by her palms but stared past it. A million questions for Yang.

Sudden heat singed her cheek. She jerked back with an undignified shriek to a chortling Yang, who held a small white paper cup out toward her. Steam chimneyed out of the little hole in its plastic lid, matching its twin in Yang's right hand. "Here. Earl Gray, unsweetened."

The cup spilled warmth all over her hands as she clutched it, huddling it close to her chest. She remembered. "Thanks. That . . . really didn't take very long."

"Well, they've got vending machines right there. Speaking of which." Yang reached into the crook of her other arm for the palm-sized parcels cradled there. She held one out to Blake. "Blueberry muffins. It's not A Simple Wok, but it'll have to do."

Blake blushed at the jab, but accepted the confection. "I was just really hungry, okay?" She peeled away the wrapper just enough to take a small nibble, suddenly very self-conscious. The little blueberries crackled nicely against her teeth and the piping hot tea washed it down with satisfying heat. "Seriously, I'm never going there again."

"Oh, come on. The old guy's not that fishy." Yang flashed her a knowing grin. Blake groaned around another mouthful of muffin. The pun had almost slipped by her. Almost. Plastic crinkled wildly as Yang ripped at it with her teeth. She balanced the muffin on her cup, crushing the wrapper in her fist and tucking it into her pocket. "And think about it. You used to go there all the time. Of course he would recognize you." Her first bite chomped away half of the entire muffin. Well, at least she wasn't trying to talk with her mouth full. That was an improvement.

"Recognize me? Fine. But why would he know where I'm staying? That's just creepy."

"I dunno, Blake. I think you're just not as sneaky as you think." Yang crammed the rest of her muffin into her mouth, cheeks puffing out slightly as she chewed.

Blake chuckled, taking another drag of her drink and blowing the air from her nose in a stream. "I guess so, if you were able to find me."

"Ouch." Yang gave her a good-natured smack on the shoulder and made to take a swig from her drink. But she stopped half-way, grimacing and glaring almost disapprovingly at her right hand. She passed it off to her other hand and took a petite, decidedly not Yang-like sip. It was dainty, princess-like.

"I heard about Weiss." Blake gulped down lukewarm tea and looked down at her toes. "Do you think we'll see her again?"

Yang smirked, siding up next to her. "You're asking like you don't know we're gonna kidnap her."

Snorting, Blake's smile came expectedly. "Just making sure. It's probably going to be hard to break in, though. You know, since I'm not as sneaky as I think I am." She jabbed Yang in the ribs with her elbow. "And you're definitely not as sneaky as I am."

Yang clapped a hand on Blake's back and laughed. "I'll leave the prep to you, Blake."

Prep. Right. Blake clenched her empty palm, gripped a formless construct of air in her hand. They hadn't been the extension of herself they were supposed to be. They'd only filled her with a deepening sense of futility. Might as well have been air. "Yang, you have a workshop I can use, right?"

"Sure. What for?" Blake could practically hear the pieces click in Yang's head, fitting together in a gasp of realization. "Oh, man. That's right. I'm really sorry about Gambol, Blake."

Four pieces they'd collected all together, including the hilt, which laid next to Shroud on a pile of books next to the door. Fairly even, as well. That she'd managed that with her off hand was honestly quite impressive. Especially because it didn't seem physically possible. "It's fine. I can fix him."

"Him?" Oops. An incredulous twinkle gave way to giddy giggling. "Wow, you are such a dork. Next thing you're gonna tell me Shroud is a she." Sealed lips and shifty eyes only fueled Yang's delight. "Wow. That . . . that is just too perfect."

"Anyway!" Blake shut her eyes to refocus her own, and Yang's, attention before reopening them. "Don't feel too bad. I've had some upgrades in mind for a while."

"Ooh, you should totally work the bell in there." Blake frowned. That's right. Yang had brought the bell back from Tukson's shop as well. That infernal jingling.

"I was going for stealth, Yang. How am I supposed to sneak around with a bell on me?"

"I dunno. Maybe you could use it as a distraction?" Blake's retort was derailed by a scene from Ninjas of Love 5, where Shien used the sound of wind chimes to unnerve the guards and mask her approach in the dark halls of the evil warlord's estate. It was right before the part where she whisks away the princess and takes her to the hot springs and . . .

Blake narrowed her eyes. Yang could never know. "I'll think about it." She nodded at Yang's bracelets. "Nice job on Ember Celica, by the way."

"Thanks, but I made these guys from scratch." Yang extended her left wristlet to catch the gleam of the sun. "Yellowjacket. That's their name."

Color Blake amused. Appropriate, given their shape, but still. "First Bumblebee, now Yellowjacket? What is it with you and bees anyway?"

"Dad always called me a busy little bee. And I figure we're probably gonna be busy ourselves soon enough." Yang took another swig of coffee. "So what did you find on your end, anyway?"

Blake twisted her foot into the snow, digging into it with a gravelly crunch. "Nothing solid. Just that the White Fang is probably headed for Mistral."

Yang nodded sagely. "That would explain why Ruby's headed there."

Blake scrunched her nose, blinking in Yang's words. "She is?"

"Oh, right. Didn't get a chance to tell you, huh, sleepyhead?"

She put on the poutiest frown she knew. Admittedly, eighteen hours of sleep was definitely pushing it. "So Ruby's on her way to Mistral?"

Yang shrugged. "She's probably there by now. She left with Jaune, Ren, and Nora to chase a lead."

Blake bit her bottom lip. That was just like Ruby, to keep moving forward. Even into the Beowulf's den. "Have you been able to contact her?"

"Once." Yang casually leaned back against the cold concrete, arms crossed. "You know how the CCT is outside the kingdoms."

"How is she?"

Yang looked up at the sky, wistful eyes collecting and condensing her thoughts. "She's . . . still Ruby. And she's following her own path. Just like we'll follow ours." She chugged her coffee, expelling a satisfied sigh afterwards. "We'll meet up eventually. And I'll have another long story for her when we do."

Blake let the plastic lid linger against her lips, pretending to drink from her empty cup. Following her path. Meeting up. Walking in opposite directions. She sighed, letting the cup dangle in her hand. "Yang, we're not out here to jog, are we?"

With a huff, Yang kicked off the concrete and lined up a shot to the nearby trashcan. The cup arced elegantly into the goal, earning a quick fistpump. "Heh, I knew you'd catch on quick."

Blake watched Yang step back out onto the track, looking out at the wide expanse. "I had this idea a while ago, back when Ruby was still dealing with Summer passing away." She let out an exhausted breath. "She was always so scared. Whenever my dad or uncle Qrow or even I left her to go somewhere, she would be terrified that we wouldn't come back."

Yang turned back to her, wearing a shy smile. "Hey, Blake, do you know what a Moebius Loop is?"

Blake blinked at the sudden question. "Isn't that where you take a strip of paper and twist it into a loop?"

"Yup. If you don't twist it, the paths on the inside and outside never meet. I think that's what Ruby was really afraid of. That our paths would never cross again."

Blake tossed her trash and sauntered over to Yang's side. "So you showed her that they could."

Yang nodded. "Yeah. We're not saying goodbye. We're just taking the long way to see each other."

Raw emotion welled up and uplifted every organ inside Blake's body. She got it now. She got why she'd chosen Yang as a partner, why they worked so well together, why she felt so comfortable and safe and secure around her. She was the girl that ran. And Yang would always search for her. Exhaling her cowardice, Blake took Yang's right hand in both her own. "Yang."

Yang blinked rapidly, surprised. "Blake?"

Blake looked at Yang straight in the eyes. "Yang, I'm sorry I got you hurt."

Curling gentle fingers over the top of Blake's hand, Yang smiled wryly. "That wasn't your fault."

It was a smile that told her to try again. "You're right." Blake swallowed down her fears. "I'm sorry for running away from you."

A classic Yang hug. No one was ever ready for one of those. Blake grunted as the air left her lungs, finding solace in the warmth of the body pressed up against her. "I needed you, Blake. I needed you more than ever."

A thousand sorry's couldn't fill the depths of her regret. "I thought you would hate me."

"I did. For a while." Arms squeezed her tighter. "But I missed you more. You should have told me why you left."

"I had to keep you safe, Yang." Blake bowed her head, tucking it into golden locks. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine, Blake." She moved even closer until Blake could feel the hot breaths by her ear. "I forgive you." And it was gone. The pit at the bottom of her stomach dissipated, replaced by an updraft of relief that she had finally done something right. "Just promise me."

Blake steeled her face. "Never again."

Giggles rumbled against her chest. "I didn't even say anything, yet."

"I won't run again."

Yang pulled away, her wizened eyes full of understanding. "No, Blake. It's fine if you have to run. It's a part of who you are." She placed her right hand on Blake's shoulder. "But you can't just run off and . . . and plan on never coming back. You'll run. But promise you'll run back to us. To me."

Eyes brimming with tears, Blake completed the circle, gripping Yang's right shoulder. "I promise."

Yang's hips and hollers filled the empty silence, making the white landscape shine just a bit brighter. If she wasn't so set on being the serious one, Blake might have joined in. As it was, she just shook her head in amusement and chuckled. "Come on, Yang." She strolled back to the starting line. "We have two laps to go."

Her cocky smirk was infectious. "You're right, Blake. Almost forgot." Yang took her place behind Blake, crouching into a runner's stance. "Let's do this."

Blake breathed in and out, the crisp air coursing through her. Yang was right. It really did help clear her head. Well, the jogging not so much, though maybe now she could appreciate it for what it was: an exercise of trust. She faced front, focused on the yellow-brick road. Now, she could move forward.

Though there was one thing that still nagged at her. Blake snuck a look behind to Yang's right arm. The proverbial elephant in the room if there ever was one.

"Yang." Blake cleared her throat. Well, it was as good a time as any. "Your arm. How did you . . ." And Yang was gone. "Yang!"

As Blake herself started sprinting, she could hear Yang's fading voice yelling "spoilers" from the opposite direction. She smiled and shook her head. Yang could keep her secrets for now. She could run all she wanted. Blake would meet her halfway. Yang's laughter brought her into the present. Away from the past that chained her down, away from Adam. His vision for the White Fang, his hopes had become her burden. But now, with a flame of gold tearing towards her, she knew. Blake slapped the waiting palm as she ran past. She'd found her own liberation.