"You have silver eyes."
Ozpin said those words as though he invoked a silent prayer—a low gasp of words barely audible. His blood burned with a fervor he had not felt for years. The ember that was close to being extinguished now roared proudly like the sun in its incandescent glory. His heart stirred. Ozpin remembered what this was: Hope.
Silver irises peered at him with no emotion. The sheen of them dulled. The young girl said nothing to Ozpin. Her only acknowledgement was the empty gaze that met his own. Her legs were brought up to her chest, and a weapon, a rifle, lied beside her. Her only companions surrounding her were the broken landscape and the ruined remains of stone statues vaguely in the shape of Grimm. The girl was no more than twelve.
"Hello. My name is Professor Ozpin," he greeted her, properly this time, and smiled.
Her lips quivered, and Ozpin saw how her hands clutched desperately to the white cloak that covered her. "Hello," she managed to respond.
"May I sit beside you?"
She nodded.
He sat beside her a foot apart, mimicking her posture, and placing his cane between them. "You saved the settlement. Many of the surviving huntsmen claim you're a hero."
Silence, but then, "I know."
"You," Ozpin blinked, surprised by the confidence in her response, "know?"
"Look out to the sunset, professor," the young girl requested, pointing out towards the horizon.
Ozpin could see nothing but the remains of the settlement of Mountain Glenn and the myriad of corpses that engulfed the landscape. There was so much death. Yet as he thought this, the long shadow cast upon the taller buildings from the setting sun served as a means to cover the destruction.
"Tomorrow, I will be heralded as the 'Hero of Mountain Glenn.' The council will do so to safeguard their investment here," the young girl whispered to him, a low giggle erupting as she finished. "I will no longer live as a normal girl."
"It is your choice who you will become."
"Is it?"
He turned his head to her and saw that the dullness of her eyes have been replaced with animated luster. She even showered him with a careless smile. There was something that she knew that he did not, and, guiltily, he wondered if she knew why he mentioned her eyes.
"Yes," he finally answered.
The young girl beamed and childish laughter escaped her, but relief did not come to him. He saw tears roll down her cheeks as she laughed and laughed. He saw how her body shivered and convulsed more than what merriment would allow.
"Professor Ozpin, can you mourn for me? For the girl before today?"
"What was her name?"
Her hand reached out to him, intertwining with one of his. He made no move to reject her and once more he lamented his curse. She too would become another victim, another life that will be burdened with his mission. The least he could do was to etch her name into his very soul.
"Summer," she prayed, "Summer Rose."