Onward we pressed, through deep drifts of snow, our spirit broken.

Onward we traveled, losing men to grimm.

Onward we went, losing women to bandits.

Onward we forged a path, losing children and infants to the cold.

We paused only to camp and bury our dead.

Then ever onwards, we marched.

My name is Wulfknoth Reave, and I do not expect to survive.

It began when the snowstorms hit, forcing us to take shelter in our homes, safe against the shrieking winds outside, but not that which lay within them.

They attacked each household, burning it and pulling out the people inside to be killed or raped. They stole our children, executing their parents in front of them, before carting them off.

All while we lounged in our homes, none the wiser to the atrocities being committed outside. They continued on for hours, slowly making their way into the village, they slaughterd dozens, brutalized even more.

A break in the storm, and we heard what was happening. We burst from our homes, ready to defend ourselves and mount a counterattack, or man the walls.

But it was too late, they were too far in, we were too scattered.

We mustered in the town center, our leaders calm in the face of the storm, the pond of their minds calm in the chaos of battle.

We were ordered to armour ourselves, and take up arms, but not to engage the enemy, we were told that the enemy was too far into the town, and that we had not enough fighters to push them back. We were to evacuate.

Several of us tried to argue, saying that we should fight to the last, that there was no honor in running. The chieftain argued that there was no honor in leaving women and children to the predations of savages.

The council had decided, and their word was law.

We were split up into four groups, each group would set off in a different direction, one to each kingdom, in the hopes that we could settle somewhere else, or that the kingdoms would take pity on us and allow us in.

I was assigned to the group that was going to vale, a hundred of us to guard hundreds of civilians, over a journey of two hundred miles.

We got out of the town, said our farewells and went over the plan to reunite should we make it.

With that, we separated and left, taking what we could with us.

almost a thousand people set off for Vale, a hundred fighters guarding them.

That was over four months ago.

[Break]

I pulled the fur of my coat closer to me, trying desperately to shield out the freezing wind. The chainmail was frozen, as were the plates of steel they lay beneath, where they touched my skin, they ripped away flesh. I was thankful for the armor though, it had saved my life several times over, and I would have more severe wounds than I already did had I not worn it.

We were close to Vale now, I could see its shining towers and high walls on the horizon. We would be there before nightfall, everyone would be safe then.

I turned in my saddle, staring at the marching souls behind me, where we once numbered over a thousand, barely half that remained, many died in the initial trip, succumbing to wounds sustained during the cursed raid, or falling behind. More died when the food ran out, starving to death in front of their children, sparing their rations for them. When the rations ran out, some resorted to cannibalism, eating the flesh of their frozen young, despite the near daily executions of those cannibals.

Those deaths were the hardest to bear, having them kneel in front of you, see them cry and beg for forgiveness, see them promise you everything, their possessions, their bodies, and the bodies of their children. It was hard to bring the axe up, harder to bring it down on them.

We all did it, we all shared on the executions.

I remembered doing it, raising my axe as the woman on her knees in front of me screamed and begged in front of me, saying how she wasn't at fault, that she was only trying to survive. I remember her screaming about her innocence, even as the blood of her sisters child ran down her lips. I remember how she exposed herself to me, offered up herself if I would spare her, telling me that no one would know if I took her up on her offer, that no one but the trees around us would see.

When I told her to close her eyes and look at the ground, she threw herself at me, her frantic, emaciated fingers desperately clawed at my fur skirt, how her panicked cries turned to screams as I shoved her off, how her screams turned into gurgles as I brought the weapon down.

I remember feeling nothing afterwards. No satisfaction, no dutiful resolve, no overwhelming sadness.

When I got back to the others, I noticed the looks the women gave me, how they shielded their children from my sight, I could hear the whispers about me. I didn't understand at the time, I had made sure to clean the blood from my hands when the work was done. I knelt down at a stream to drink and wash my hands again, the feeling of blood still on them, and when I saw my reflection, I figured out why they reacted the way they did.

I was covered in gore, blood dripped from my armor, from the fur and chainmail ran thick rivulets of crimson.

I jumped in that stream, despite the cold.

The crack of ice drove me from my thoughts, and the lanicked scream of a woman drove me to action.

I spurred my horse, urging him along the train of people, whispers and talk prevalent among them.

A hole in the ice had opened up, and a woman was screaming a name and moving her hands in the water beneath.

I jumped from my horse, landing on my belly as I slid towards the hole. I quickly looked down in the water, desperately searching for someone in the inky blackness.

A flash of skin, fleeting and quick. I shoved my hands in the water, feeling around in the water for anything. I felt my hand brush fur and I desperately grabbed hold of it. I heaved the person to me, trying to pull them out, they flowed under the ice beneath me, the current dragging them further under the ice, the strength of the current pulled my top half in with them, the cold, icy water stinging me as my head and chest were submerged.

I opened my eyes under the watern looking for whoever it was I was holding onto.

Blue eyes stared back at me, their color permeated with fear, blonde hair, woven into pigtails decorated her head. Her small frame dangled loosely behind her, the cold already numbing them. I had ahold of her sleeve.

I desperately tried to pull her, the muscles in my arms burning with effort.

I felt her sleeve slip from my grasp, I clawed my hands across her arm as I tried to keep her from slipping, desperately trying to hold on.

The current was too strong and I watched as she drifted away from me, screaming as she sank down into the blackness of the water.

I couldn't look away, even when she disappeared into the depths, I could still hear her screams, see the bubbles rise up, until no more came up.

I don't know how long I sat there, my mind not registering what just happened.

Hands gripped my legs, pulling me up from the water. I heaved in air, the sound of my coughs a sick harmony to the screams of the girls mother.

Everyone was silent, a dark fog descending on those that looked on. Several looked away before continuing on, the death of a child just another daily event.

Soon, only I and the mother remained, her cries echoing in my ears as declarations of my guilt.

I had failed, and someone elselse had died because of it. I stayed there for awhile, just staring at the hole in the ice.

I felt nothing.

I was empty of all emotion, everything gone, everything empty, my heart as cold as the water that drowned it.

Eventually I scooped up the woman, and set back on my horse, I still had a job to do.

Once I reached the train of people, I set the woman back down, she sank to the ground in a sobbing mess, her legs giving out as she laid in the snow.

"Get up woman, we will not wait for you." I said, in a harsh tone that shocked myself. "Your daughter is gone, I understand that, but you have come this far, you can go further."

She sobbed, not making to move, only fixing me with a cold glare. "What about you? We walk and starve while you sit on your damned horse! If you had any decency, you'd slaughter your horse and feed us!"

I spun the horse around, marching the beast next to her. I met her eyes with my own glare, my hand caressing my axe's handle. The threat was clear, the intent was violent.

"There are damned near five hundred souls here! Barely forty fighters to guard them! If something were to happen, how would I get there soon enough? When the beast dies, I shall feed it to the people, but who will eat? Who can decide which among you will eat? Only conflict will arise from it!" The axe was out and the flat of the blade struck her in the back, jolting her from her seat. "Now get off your ass and march! I've lost one today already, and I am in no damned mood to lose another!."

By the Gods, what have I become?

When did I become so callous? So uncaring? How many people had lost their lives?

I knew the number, but I did not dwell on its mocking value.

Still, so many lost, so many dead, and what was my response? "Keep marching." The order never changed, never wavered.

I looked to the train of people, I looked upon their faces, stained with tears and marred by hopelessness. I had a duty to protect them, yes, but did I need to oppress them so? Why couldn't I just leave them be? If they fell behind, what fault of mine was it?

I shook my head, desperately trying to clear the thoughts from it.

"I understand what troubles you, young Wulfknoth."

The voice belonges to Bjorn, the oldest among us warriors, and currently the acting chieftain of the tribe.

Or what was left of it.

I sighed, no matter what thoughts ran through my head, they always came back to despair.

I turned my head to regard my elder, dressed in warplate and greyhaired as he was, I still held great respect for him.

"Then perhaps you could offer some council?" I said, my tone hushed as my thoughts once again fell to melancholy patterns.

He in turn nodded his head towards the people, humming as he did so.

"You worry for them, so many gone already, yet so many fall behind. The lines between duty and cruelty are becoming blurred are they not? If we are to protect them, and some fall behind, would it not be more logical to leave them and continue on our way, that it would not be our fault?"

A woman screamed in the train of people, her frantic actions causing others to part around her as she desperately tried to wake up her baby, even though no one can wake up ice.

Gods, what have we done to deserve this?

Bjorn continued.

"You are scared, Wulfknoth." I immediately went to protest, but his raised hand stopped me. "Don't try to deny it, you are scared of what you have become, of what lays further down the path already walked by yourself and others."

"I fear that my heart will harden, I fear that it has already done so."

"You are right to have such fear, for when a man becomes hollow of emotion, hollow of himself."

"He becomes a monster, infinite in cruelty, and devoid of caring and mercy." I finished for him, my heart not heavier, but not lightened either.

Night had begun to fall, and the order was given to make camp.

The people huddled together, in great circles, crowded to the bones as they desperately tried to stay warm.

I hated these nights, while the people rested and slept, we would sit in the snow, freezing in our armor. No mistake was allowed, no one dared fall asleep. I shivered, though as tired as I was, I could not sleep, my thoughts were against me, and I wondered what would become of myself. So many others had died, their lives as integral to them as mine was to me, yet they had still died. Would I suffer the same fate? Would death come tonight to claim me? Tomorrow? Or the day after?

The thought terrified me, was I next to embrace the cold bosom of lady death? I shivered again, snuggling closer to my horse, I continued to think.

Was I as mortal as my kin? Was I the hero of my story, or the fodder of another's? Would I be lucky and survive, or be washed away from existence as a frozen corpse?

I didn't know.

Was that a blessing or a curse?

Once again, I didn't know.

I pulled out my axe and laid it across my lap. The rune-carved head shining against the shattered moon. It never hurt to be prepared against an attack.

Gingerly, I turned to gaze upon the sobbing mass of people behind me. How many of them would die tonight? So close to the goal, but unable to reach it.

I didn't know.

[Break]

"Come on Yang! The snow is going to melt if you take any longer!"

"Relax Rubes, it isn't going anywhere."

"I don't see what is so important about the snow? Atlas is almost always covered in it."

"You don't appreciate it because you lived in it all your life."

Snow had come to Vale in record amounts, and team RWBY was going to enjoy it.

Ruby did a quick headcount, and groaned in frustration when she came up one short.

"Ughhh. Where's Blake?"

Yang shrugged, before pointing across the hall. "She said something about catching the news this morning over in JNPR's dorm, something about weather?"

Ruby rushed out the door and across the hall, throwing open the door.

"Blake! Let's go-"

Blake stood there, hand over hee mouth and eyes wide as she watched a news clip, tears stained her eyes, and her mouth moved silently.

"Blake? You okay?"

Ruby looked around, all of JNPR was glued to their scrolls, varying degrees of emotion playing throughout the room.

Nora cried, as did Pyrrha.

Jaune's face was grim.

Ren stared.

"What's going on guys? You're starting to worry me."

Ruby pulled out her own scroll, and went to the latest news, and pulled up a live feed.

"We're here today at the gates of Vale, where hundreds of people feom a northern tribe are seeking asylum in the city. I am told that the tribal chieftain is currently in talks with the Valean council. We now go to our reporter who is on the scene with the tribe, just inside the gates. Viewer discretion is advised."

The video changed, and suddenly Ruby wanted to cry too.

Shuffling masses of people, practically skeletons in skin, huddled in a mass. Some didn't have the strength to stand and laid on the street in the snow. Little children walked around, bellies distended and ribs showing as they cried and waved arms that were barely more than bone.

Some people threw food into the crowd, starting scuffles over the tiny morsel.

The camera turned to regard a man in fur and a helmet.

Might as well have been death himself.

His face was gaunt, and his eyes were sunken and dark. He was dirty and unkempt, his lips were chapped and bleeding.

"This is Sigismund Birn, one of the guards from the tribe who was responsible for their protection on the way here. Tell me Sigismund, do you have anything to say?"

He spoke in a language Ruby didnt understand, but his words were quickly translated by a woman next to him.

"We were attacked in our homes up north. Many of us did not survive, so we left, and marched here."

The reporter asked another question. "On you're way here, did you encounter any problems, and are you glad you were able to get so many people hera alive?"

"So many of us died coming here, there was a thousand of us at the start, last nght there was over four hundred, today there is less than half that. We burned our dead this morning, and came here. I am happy that we were able to make it, but the ghosts of the children a d infants still wail in my ears, there is no happiness for them."

Ruby shut the scroll off. She felt sick, and her joy had been sapped out of her.

Those poor people, those poor, poor people.

Ruby hoped they would be ok.

[Break]

Bjorn could not believe what he was hearing.

"I do apologize sir, but Vale has no room in the city for refugees, especially uneducated ones at that."

"Please! If we can't stay here, then where will we go? I have children out there, grieving mothers and dying father's. Please, I'm begging you, let us in!"

"The decision is final, you can go wherever you want, but you cannot stay in the city."

"We'll die if we leave, my people will die, our children will die! Have you no soul? No heart?!"

"That is enough, this meeting is adjourned."

It was over, all of it.

Months of traveling, hundreds of deaths, the sacrifices they had to make.

Just to be told no.

"Mr. Bjorn."

Clack

Clack

"My name is professor Ozpin, and i have a proposition for you."

A/N

This is just a little idea I had floating in my head, I'm trying my hand at writing dark stuff and I would appreciate any feedback you all can give me!