Chapter 1: A New Mother
"Achoo!"
Cinder hated the cold, hated the snow, hated the wetness that came when she used her power. She hated the crunch of her unwillingly booted feet on the fresh snow, the shivering of her lithe body even through the layers of furs she had worn. She could have worn her favorite Dust-infused dress, but the wind bit sharply at any exposed skin. She could have used her powers to keep herself warm, but they would run out eventually, and she would be left wet and cold in the middle of nowhere.
Cinder rubbed her sensitive nose as she thought back to why she had come out here. A rumor among some of her more… trustworthy associates had said that a powerful woman, who had apparently abandoned civilization, could be found among the ice covered trees in a remote cottage on the edge of the kingdom. Someone who had forsaken the world of humans and faunus, throwing off the shackles of 'right' and 'order' in favor of her own laws.
Someone who could be an excellent ally to the young upstart's plans.
Most who looked at the girl, currently clothed in furs, would say she was easily a supermodel or actress; often thinking her to be a much older and more mature woman. These were the ones most surprised by her admittance of youth, only seventeen years old. It was true, she supposed, that she seemed far too developed for a girl her age, but she had never let a concept as silly as age stop her from using her charms to get her way. That didn't mean she enjoyed using it. Quite the contrary, actually. She despised the way that her patrons leered at her when they thought she wasn't looking, but she channeled her anger into strength.
Strength to change the way she was treated. Strength to make the ones who had put her down pay.
Strength to change the world.
But change is a slow thing, and all Cinder had at the moment was the mere embers of change. But embers they may be, even the smallest spark can bring about change. The remains of the faunus war that had occurred long ago were her source of these embers, all she needed do was put them to kindling and, with some encouragement, they would become the bonfire of change that this world desperately needed.
A howl echoed across the forest, causing the young pyromancer to stop in her thoughts and tracks. The sound of a beowolf pack on the hunt was distinct and frightening, or at least it would have been, had it been heard by anyone other than Cinder. She prided herself on fearlessness, as it was a terrible trait for a leader to show. However, the sounds that accompanied the howls were terrifying.
The creaking of poorly oiled wheels, likely of some poor settler's wagon, pierced through the silent forest. The accompanying crunch of boots on the crisp snow confirmed that there were others here, no doubt also wishing to contact the woman in the forest. A competitor for the woman's employment. Cinder began moving toward the sounds, taking care to avoid announcing her presence to the interlopers.
Her lithe body, even when wrapped head to toe in warm furs, seemed to be like a river as it flowed between the ice-covered trees that covered the landscape. The way she dashed as silently as she could, without a twig snapped or track left, seemed almost like a dance between her and the branches of the trees. The sounds of the wagon began to slow as Cinder caught up, and she could make out what she assumed was the cottage she had heard of. But the description she had been given did this place no justice.
The cottage, if it could be called that, was ruined and decrepit. Its walls seemed to be collapsing in on themselves, the windows were covered in frost, those that weren't broken at least, and the door was broken and the frame had been destroyed, making it a portal still, but a portal more like the mouth of a cave than a door. How anyone could live here was beyond the pyromancer, but those that lived outside society's rules were often eccentric in how they went about their business.
Her inspection of the house yielding no results, she turned her gaze to what had been the source of the sound. Her eyes grew wide when she saw a young girl, her hand holding onto a wagon sized for children. Even from the edge of the forest, Cinder could see another girl, younger than the one pulling the wagon, sleeping soundly in the wagon. Cinder's mind raced for an answer to their presence, but the universe gave her no secrets pertaining to the strange girls, instead allowing her to see the red eyes peek out from the cottage. Red eyes, filled with hunger and lust.
Grimm eyes.
Cinder would vehemently refute any suggestion that she was a huntress, even with her powers and skill with the bow. She had studied Grimm, true, but she had done so to further her knowledge of how to use them as weapons against her enemies, not to fight them and save someone else's life. Even so, she couldn't let the girls just die; it went against everything she believed. The young woman poured over her choices as quickly as she could, fully aware of the beowolf eyes inching closer and closer to the pair in front of the cottage's door. Seconds later, her plan prepared, she lept into action.
But she was too late. The beowolves had lept out of the dilapidated building only a second before, their claws and fangs moving in a blur toward the helpless children. Even if she acted quickly there was no guarantee she could save them both without a scratch. Time seemed to move in slow motion as her right hand flew to the pouch at her waist and she quickly drew out a red Dust crystal, her power's focus. The beowolves continued to fly toward the girls, the blonde one finally reacting to the appearance of the Grimm. The first one had landed right next to the young girl, its massive claws ready to strike down the child.
"NO!" Cinder shouted as she channeled her powers into the Dust, wiping her hand over the crystal and throwing her hand out, sending a bolt of flame careening toward the beowolf standing over the blonde girl. The girl, startled by Cinder's desperate shout, turned to see the fire hurtling toward her. In the split second of the beowolf's attack and Cinder's flame connecting, the girl shoved the wagon away from herself in desperation. The last thing Cinder saw of the girl's face was a look of desperation, a cry for help.
Then the flames took her and the beowolf. The beowolf's body lurched backward at the contact of the intense flaming bolt, but it was an old creature and Cinder was not a trained huntress. She realized all she had done was make it mad. The fur-clad pyromancer stood firm, however, and readied her crystal for a second strike.
Meanwhile the blonde haired girl had been knocked away from the beowolf's claws, but the right side of her hair was burned away. Luckily the snow had doused what flames had tried to claw at her face, but she would carry a burned mark along the side of her head as long as she lived. And it didn't seem that she would live much longer, seeing as how the rest of the beowolf pack began to close in on their alpha's forgotten meal.
Cinder launched bolt after bolt at the alpha beowolf, her legs easily dodging the alpha's quick dashing attacks. She would not be able to fight forever, though. Dust magic was a draining practice, as the process required the caster to infuse Dust with their Aura and launch the combination toward their target. Not to mention Cinder's lack of stamina, a common problem of novice mages and hunters. A pause in the beowolf's assault granted her a moment to survey the battlefield.
A few stray flames from Cinder's reckless attacks burned on the patches of dry grasses scattered throughout the field. Following the trail of fire back to the start uncovered the young girl surrounded by beowolves. Realizing the predicament the blonde girl found herself in, Cinder knew she had to do something. And she knew what something she needed to do.
As suddenly as the beowolf had stopped its attacks it began again, the Grimm's claws flashing toward Cinder. The pyromancer spun herself and launched the Dust crystal into the alpha's jaws, the red gem lodging itself in between the creature's teeth. The alpha paused for an instant as it hit. Cinder merely smiled as she drew a second crystal from her pouch and quickly launched a fresh bolt toward the monster's jaws.
The resulting explosion tore apart the alpha's flimsy armor plating, sending the pieces flying in various directions. The pack looked up from their potential meal as the head-plate of their alpha soared between them. They looked up to where it came from to find the angry pyromancer staring them down, her eyes glowing orange, like her flames. The red eyes of the pack narrowed and one by one they turned to attack the intruder.
But they were too slow. Cinder focused as much power as she could into her crystal and threw it toward the center of the pack, the consequences of doing so not readily apparent to the livid woman. As it flew it began to glow and burn, before landing among the pack. Cinder snapped her fingers, setting the full power of her power free and obliterating the beowolves in one fell swoop.
As the beowolves fell and the flames in her eyes and around the field cleared, Cinder realized, with horror, what the Grimm had been hunting while she fought the alpha.
The blonde girl lay still on the melted snow, her clothes gone, burned away by Cinder's attack. Even less of her hair was still attached to her head, and more burns covered her scalp. Cinder rushed to the girl's side, to see if she was alive. Cinder pressed her fingers to the girl's wrist, but she could feel no pulse. Quickly, she turned the girl over onto her back to inspect her more thoroughly.
The burns were even worse on the front. Where her meager chest had been was just raw skin, shredded by the flames Cinder had unleashed. She fought back tears as she checked the girl's chest for breathing, but found none. She probably could have been saved, but only a hospital could treat burns like the ones on the girl. She was going to die. There was nothing that could be done.
Cinder killed an innocent child while protecting her.
A light flurry of snow had begun to fall while Cinder was checking the poor girl. Cinder let her tears fall onto the snow beginning to surround the fallen girl, her heart shattering at the thought of killing, even accidentally, an innocent child. Sounds from behind Cinder, her face stained by tears, brought her back to reality. Gently, she placed the dead or dying girl onto the soft snow, taking care not to muss what remained of the girl's hair. The heartbroken girl took a deep breath and turned to the source of the noise.
The wagon, forgotten by all the parties during the fight, still had the other girl. The even younger child, still alive, was the source of the sounds. As Cinder walked over to the wagon she could see that the girl, no more than three summers old, was just waking due to the snow falling around her body. She wriggled in her half-awake state as the snow landed on her face, and she tried in vain to wipe the wet droplets the snow became from her face.
The sight of the girl, squirming with life, unaware of what had transpired, brought a small smile to Cinder's face. She moved down to shield the girl from the snow and wiped what snow had already landed on her from her face. She knew what could happen when she attacked the beowolf, but she was still glad to see the child still alive. The girl in the wagon began to settle back into sleep, her miniscule worries gone for the moment.
A thought occurred to Cinder as she watched the girl sleep. These two came out into the forest, alone. Did they know what await them here? Likely not. Were they orphans looking for a new home? Possibly. No matter their reason for being here, she could not just leave the wagon girl here. As tragic as the other girl's death was, Cinder had to remind herself that only the strongest survive. Even so, the girl deserved a burial. But the ground was too tough, frozen from the recent weather in the area. It would not do for digging. So she did the next best thing and burned away a space on snowless ground for the girl to lie on in her final moments. To make sure of the girl's safe passing into whatever life awaited her, Cinder placed a single freshly plucked flower from the nearby area, a young cyclamen bud.
It was an old ritual in her village, for those that would pass to be buried with a flower, and when the flower was wilted completely…
Cinder took a deep breath and focused back on the girl, temporarily ridding her mind of her old home. Of old memories.
Cinder stood again and walked back to the wagon. She might be a revolutionary bent on bringing the world down around society, but she would rather die than let an innocent child die because of her negligence. She reached down into the wagon and picked up the girl, carrying her like one would a babe, with care not to wake her.
A turn of the heel and the pyromancer began her trek back to civilization. She moved quickly, as if to leave the clearing with the dead girl behind her as fast as possible. The trees seemed to close behind her as she walked; sealing her into the path she had chosen.
She just hoped everything would end well.
A/N So, this is kinda weird. Was gonna write a normal CinderxRuby fic, maybe a bit of smut, but have ended up making Cinder a mother. So that means no smut. Yay, no smut! Anyways, later chapters will focus on Ruby. Just getting some prologue stuff out of the way.
For the record, I'm pretty sure Ruby was about three when Yang went to the decrepit house, so that's her age here. Kinda irrelevant, seeing as how the primary story will deal with the modern day, ie fifteen year old Ruby. Just wanted to make a note here of the difference between Cinder and Ruby's ages.
No editor cause I want to see what happens when I just write.
Review, Follow, Fave, Potato. See you later!