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8. A Dragon Napping

Mistral was a completely different world at night.

Jade had never been this far from the dragonry in her life. She'd only been out in the city a few times, and always during the day. Now there were no open-air markets, no raised voices or chattering crowds. The only illumination came from streetlamps and tiny dancing lights that broke up the deep shadows between them. She tried to snatch one in her jaws, but Emerald put a hand on the side of her head.

"Careful," she murmured. "Those are made of glass. And Dust."

Jade stopped trying to bite the lights and simply watched, transfixed. When she moved closer, she could see that the lights were hanging on thin wires. It was the wind that made them dance.

"They're beautiful, aren't they?"

"Gud," Jade agreed.

The two of them turned a corner, winding along a narrow road that led further down the cliffs. There were more people the lower they went, though they were much quieter than the daytime kind.

"I'm sorry." Jade turned to stare at her rider, confused, and when Emerald patted her shoulder she noticed for the first time that she was shaking. "I didn't want you to meet her like this, when we've—when I've failed."

Jade hummed and nuzzled her shoulder.

"She's amazing." The shaking subsided, and Emerald smiled at her, eyes shining. "She's going to stop the council. You and all the other dragons in our year... you're going to be the last ones born into a world that sees you as worthless. They're going to pay for thinking they can throw you away."

It was hard not to be nervous—they weren't here to deliver good news. At the same time, Jade could feel excitement and eagerness expanding like a balloon in her chest. She'd grown up hearing all about Cinder and Strike, and she'd finally be able to meet them for the first time! Usually she would call Emerald or one of the other riders to give them orders, but the plan was close to its end now. She'd flown here in person and was staying in Mistral, so their final meeting with her would be in person.

"This is it." Emerald looked around, checking to make sure no one was looking, then disappeared into a nearby warehouse.

The inside was dark, with only a few unboarded windows high on the walls to let in artificial light from outside. Jade tensed, straining her eyes to see into the shadows. Then one of them moved, and two blue eyes opened. They glowed, smoldered, and seconds later there was a small island of light in the middle of the warehouse. The owner of the eyes crouched with her mouth partly open, flames flickering between her jaws.

Jade stared. The fire dragon was magnificent—all sweeping horns and stark black-and-gold stripes—but her attention was drawn instead to the rider. She was standing with her hand on the dragon's shoulder, and when her eyes caught the light it seemed almost like they, too, were made of flame.

This was the woman who had saved Emerald before Jade was born. This was the woman who had brought her egg to her rider. It was because of her that they were together... and because of her that they had the chance to fight back against the council.

Awed, she crouched down into a more submissive posture. Beside her, she saw Emerald start to shake again. She put one hand on Jade's shoulder to steady herself.

"Emerald. You have news for me." The hand twitched.

"The students have rallied around Paprika and her rider," Emerald said. "Half the first years' dragons have problems, and even the ones whose partners are healthy are terrified some minor behavioral quirk will get them culled. We spread the story about Tornado."

"Will they be ready in time?"

"We can set them off whenever we want."

"Good. And the letters?"

Jade tensed. She could smell her partner's anxiety and wanted nothing more than to gather her up and hide her under her wings... but it would be alright. Cinder might be disappointed, but they could fix it.

"Rivers won't cooperate," Emerald admitted. "He... he believes Lionheart's excuses about going through the proper channels."

Cinder shifted, and shadows fell across her face. "You should have had everything you needed to convince him."

"I—I'm sorry." Jade couldn't help it, she had to move closer, purring quietly to reassure Emerald. "I almost had him, but I thought... I thought talking about his dragon would seal the deal, but he... he must not talk about it, or maybe... I thought everyone would have known her name, but—"

"You failed."

Strike got to her feet and prowled around them in a circle. The light in her jaws danced, sending black shadows spinning across the concrete floor—shadows shaped like fangs. Cinder approached, taking Emerald's chin gently in one hand and tilting it upward. Jade felt tense, frozen, the awe and admiration of a moment ago curdling into cold dread.

But Cinder wouldn't hurt them. She was only angry because of what was at stake. No one Emerald talked about like that would hurt them.

"It should have happened tomorrow," Cinder said, her voice so soft that Jade stopped breathing for fear of mishearing her. "Other events are falling into place. Time-sensitive events. Atlas should be distracted, its forces split... your mistake might compromise an important piece of leverage."

"I—"

"Don't speak."

Jade felt the beginnings of a growl in the back of her throat, but swallowed it. Strike paced around them, mostly hidden in shadows, with only slight glimmers of gold revealing corded muscle and a predator's grace.

"You will solve this problem that you've created," Cinder murmured.

"W-we can still do it tomorrow. The students are ready to revolt, it would only take—"

"Many would join our cause without proof of Lionheart's incompetence," Cinder agreed. "How many would we lose because of your failure? Haven is more important than our other concern. Your team will find a way to obtain those letters. Do not disappoint me again."

"Y-yes."

"Return to Haven before your absence is noticed. I will call you tomorrow night—and I expect better news by then."

Jade was itching to flee, but she waited until Cinder and Strike had disappeared back into the shadows before she crouched down to let Emerald climb onto her back. Then she left the warehouse at a dead sprint, not stopping until they were back in the upper districts of Mistral, where the late hour meant that there was hardly anyone still awake.

She found a small alleyway and deposited her rider gently on the ground. Emerald clung to her neck, trembling. Jade didn't know what else to do, so she covered her with one wing and hid her from the world.

"I'm sorry. I can't believe I—it was so stupid, I should have..."

"No," Jade rumbled. She licked Emerald's face and tasted salt. "No. Em... gud."

Emerald let out a long, shuddering sigh. "I don't know what I would've done without you," she murmured. "Either of you."

"Nneh... Ooh... Nneh... Tuh..."

Nymph snorted, her tail lashing in frustration. Neptune stroked her nose. His cheeks hurt from smiling—his dragon was trying so hard to pronounce his name. Part of him felt a little bad, since she had it way harder than Huo or Ao Guang. At the same time... he didn't think it would feel nearly as special if it had been easier for her. Plus, well...

"Sun." Huo let out a long, obnoxious chuff of laughter. Sun rolled his eyes, giving his partner a playful shove.

Nymph glared at him. Then, haughtily, "Sun."

"Okay, okay, I get it!" Sun said, laughing. "I'm easy."

"Maybe you can make him do your last name," Neptune suggested. "That'd get him to quit being so smug about it."

"Nah. I wouldn't do that to Nymph. I mean, c'mon, Vasilias?" He grinned and leaned back against Huo, his eyes going halfway shut as he stretched.

Neptune shook himself. "True," he blurted. "I guess I should change my last name to something simpler like—" Abort, abort, do not suggest Wukong as a joke! "—uh..."

"Lie, maybe? Man, some people have all the luck. What do you bet Guang will be able to say Lie Ren before Zircon manages Sage?"

"Yeah! Uh... I mean, somebody would have to give him the idea first." Neptune forced a grin. That was definitely not what he'd been thinking when he started babbling about last names, and what if—

"Neh-toon!"

He squeaked and started showering Nymph with praise and chin scratches. "You're a genius!"

Huo made a grumpy sound, glaring at his sister through narrowed eyes. Nymph preened for a moment before she turned and gave Neptune a look like she was staring into his soul.

"Luh. Luh... Lurr..."

Neptune stared at her, brow furrowed. "Uh... you okay girl?"

"Lurr!"

"Oh!" Sun shot upright and stuck one finger in the air. "Maybe she's trying Lie Ren?"

Huo started to laugh, mimicking the noise Nymph had made and then making some really bizarre faces at her.

"No!" Nymph huffed and hid her face under Neptune's arm.

"Okay?" Neptune patted her head. "I have no idea what just happened..."

"Yeah, same here."

He tried to figure out what Nymph's stare meant, then eventually gave up. If she really needed to tell him something she'd find a way. Besides, it probably wasn't that important.

Titan landed heavily at the end of their flying lesson, the muscles in his chest burning. He bounded over to Pyrrha, stopping so that she could remove the weights on his back. Halfway through the last one, she froze. Glanced at the pile on the ground. Counted silently.

He watched as her face lit up—he'd been wondering since this morning when she was going to notice. The sand bags he'd just taken off with weighed about as much as she did.

She hugged him around the neck, green eyes shining with excitement, and Titan made as if to lift her up onto the saddle. Laughing, she let go and patted him on the nose. "We have to be patient," she said.

Patient because almost none of the other dragons could handle their riders' weights yet. And because their riders had lessons to learn before they got in the saddle—Storm, Nimbus, and Freya had tried to explain why, but none of them really understood either. They were tied to the saddle with all those buckles, and Titan privately thought that if a bunch of sand bags had the skills necessary to ride him then Pyrrha wouldn't have any trouble.

He heard a heavy thump on his other side, and turned to see Twiggy struggling with a much smaller pile of sandbags. Jaune sprinted over to take them off. He murmured something in her ear and stroked the side of her neck, but she still looked dejected.

"You'll get there," Titan promised.

Twiggy's ears drooped. "I'm still so far behind..."

"Think of all the other times you've had to fight that much harder than everyone else. You always rose to the challenge before—this won't be any different."

"I guess so."

They went for a walk around the grounds. It was shorter than usual—Titan and Twiggy were both exhausted, and the temperature had dropped so much that all four of them were soon shivering. He felt a little pang, watching the humans with their runny noses and red faces. By now he knew he was never going to be able to heat his scales for them.

"Okay," Jaune said, after a while. "I think we should probably get dinner."

He and Twiggy soon peeled off to head for the earth barns, while Titan and Pyrrha kept walking towards his stall. They didn't really need to do that anymore, but he was glad they'd kept up the tradition of walking with them to their stalls at night. Especially after everything that had happened recently.

Halfway across a field, a few stray snowflakes fluttered down. Pyrrha caught one in her hand and watched it melt. Titan felt them peppering his nose. He couldn't make her warm...

On a sudden whim, Titan barked once and stared significantly at his rider.

"Yes?"

He nudged her with his head, then crouched down. Looked at his own back, then at Pyrrha.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea..." Her eyes glittered with repressed excitement. Titan nudged her one more time. She smiled and clambered onto his back. "Titan, where are we going to—"

He took off at a dead sprint, delighting in the startled laugh he heard over his shoulder. It felt different like this, with no ramp. The running was easier. Taking off... he pushed hard with his back legs, brought his wings down, flapped twice—it felt like he was clawing at air that didn't exist, and all of a sudden he plowed into the ground, flopped over onto his side, and skidded another foot. There was a furrow in the ground behind him.

"Titan!" Pyrrha sprinted to his side—she must have jumped off right before he hit the ground. "I'm so sorry, I should have... are you alright?"

He picked himself up, testing his legs and wings. "Gud," he decided. His tail flicked behind him, and he curled himself up in embarrassment.

Pyrrha stood there, staring at the torn up grass. "I suppose we should... report this?"

They stared at each other for a long, tense moment.

"I'm sure it's fine," she said, and he nodded vigorously. "It'll grow back. So long as you're alright—"

"Gud."

"Right."

With a final glance at the small crater they'd left behind, they hurried the rest of the way to the fire stables.

Brand's cave looked much less ominous in mid-afternoon lighting. Weiss could smell a faint hint of smoke in the air, but apart from that there was nothing to suggest that this place was dangerous—just a thicket of brambles, and behind them an opening between two rocks large enough for both Specter and Pit to walk side by side... or for one much bigger dragon.

She and Blake hesitated at the entrance. Specter whistled, butting his head against Weiss' shoulder. She patted him absently on the nose, still staring into the dark cave.

"Are you sure—"

"Not really," Blake admitted. "But I want to make sure there's someone with me. Just in case."

Pit growled. Weiss had the impression they were both thinking the same thing—just in case better not happen.

"Won't seeing me make him... well... more aggressive?"

"It might." Blake shrugged helplessly. "He'd probably be angry seeing anyone but Sun. I don't... this is going to sound bad... I want to get that chain off him as soon as I can, but I don't really want him to meet you after that happens, in case it goes badly."

"If you say so. I still don't see why he has to meet me at all."

"He's been taught to hate humans. That's... it's going to go badly if he doesn't learn you're not all like Adam told him. He might lash out."

"...Right. Let's go."

They approached slowly, with Blake in the front. Specter tensed, moving his wing so that it half-covered her. She smiled and put a hand on his flank.

At first, it looked empty. Something moved in the thickest patch of shadows, and Weiss realized that Brand was curled up in a tight ball, his tail hanging limp and lifeless off the side of a rock. One eye appeared under his wing, narrowed in suspicion.

"Hey, Brand..." Blake limped slowly to the center of the cave, then stopped, leaning heavily on her crutches.

The scaly lump that was Brand twitched again, his tail curling slightly at the tip. He let out a low, rumbling growl. His head stayed hidden under his wing as he said, "Knee..."

There was an awkward pause. Specter and Pit glanced at one another, just as dumbfounded as their riders.

Finally, Blake got it. "Oh, Schnee."

Brand rose onto his haunches, his wings folding onto his back, his neck curving and his eyes glittering in the dark. "Knee..." he rumbled. "Bad." Weiss swallowed an unexpected lump in her throat. She'd heard that plenty of times before... but it was different coming from a dragon.

"It's okay. This one's not bad, I promise."

"Bad." Smoke curled between Brand's lips as he spoke. Specter crept closer to her, tensed and ready to intervene.

Weiss moved. Brand hissed, jerked his head so that the chain around his neck rattled. She sat down, very slowly, moving her hands out to her sides. Relaxed. Specter tried to move in front of her, but she put out a hand to stop him.

"It's alright," she said quietly. "I'll stay over here, where I can't do anything bad."

"Bad," Brand grumbled, but he wasn't poised to attack anymore. Instead he sulked, his head once again mostly hidden behind his wings, glaring at Blake and blowing out puffs of smoke that made all their eyes water in the close confines of the cave.

There was a long silence, during which the air turned hazy and unpleasant. Brand dragged his claws against the stone underneath him. Specter and Pit both put their paws over their ears, and Blake cringed as if she'd just been stabbed. Weiss forced herself to stay still, her hands resting on the cave floor. Nonthreatening.

Satisfied that they were all deeply uncomfortable, Brand spoke again. "Ad," he said, his tail twitching. "Wuh... Wan. Tuh. Ad."

"I can't do that, Brand. I'm sorry, but he's gone."

"No." Brand set his jaw and glared.

"You know me. You know I... I wouldn't lie to you about this."

His tail whipped around, cracking against the cave wall. "Lake... Guh. Gone."

"...I know. I'm sorry, but I had to leave."

"Kuh. Urr... Duh."

"I don't understand." Blake glanced at Weiss, but all she could do was shrug helplessly. "What are you trying to—"

"Buh... Bih... Tuh."

"Brand, I don't—"

"Tuh. Truh... Ay... Turr."

This time, they all got it. Traitor. Blake let out a little oh, swayed slightly where she stood.

Pit growled, low in his chest. All of a sudden Brand lashed out, snake-like, his head coming to a sudden halt as the chain snapped taut. He hissed, smoke roiling, and Blake scrambled backwards as well as she could with the crutches. Weiss jerked to her feet and put her hand out. Brand's eyes glowed like embers nestled in dry leaves...

"Okay," Blake said hurriedly, "Okay, it's okay, I—"

"Go!" Fire flickered between Brand's jaws. "Go 'way!"

"I'll be back tomorrow," she promised, then grabbed Pit's head and let him half-carry her out of the cave.

Outside sunlight slanted in through the branches over their heads, and the air was cool and clean where it had been hot and smoky. Blake stood near the entrance to the cave, shaking, one arm thrown over Pit's neck to keep her upright. He whined softly and pressed his head against hers.

"I'm alright," she said. "It's fine, I just..."

Weiss stepped forward, her arms spread slightly in a silent invitation. Blake nodded, and she pulled her into a hug. Pit purred, and she could feel Specter nudging both of their sides. They stayed like that long enough that she started to panic—when was she supposed to let go? Was there a signal she'd never learned about?!

"Thank you," Blake murmured, then let go. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..."

"Don't be." Weiss studied a nearby rock covered with purple lichen. "It's... harder, I think, hearing bad things from dragons."

"All he knows about you is your name—"

"And all he knows about you is what that..." Weiss came up blank—there wasn't a scathing enough word she was willing to use in front of Specter. "That barbarian told him."

"I know." Blake sighed. "It's... it's pathetic, but it still hurts knowing what he used to say."

"It's not pathetic." Knowing someone's a monster doesn't mean you stop wanting their approval. "Though I have it on much better authority that you're... an incredible person." Even after all this time, she still stumbled a little on the compliment. She wasn't used to just saying things like that. Especially when they were true.

"...Thanks."

There was a pause. Weiss bit her lip, then said, "Listen... I know it's important to be there for Brand. None of this is his fault. But I can't help thinking that it might not be very... safe."

Blake took a shaky breath. "If Adam had brought Brand to Beacon, he might not have died."

"I suppose..."

"But he didn't. He chained him up." She hugged both arms around her middle. "I think he knew Brand wouldn't want to hurt me. He used to... used to ask him not to."

In that instant, Weiss wanted nothing more than to drag the man back from the dead and kill him all over again. Instead she drew Blake into another hug and said, "If you need to do this, I understand. It's just that, well... be careful, alright?" Deadly mist pools outside a stable door, icy fractals spreading wherever it touches...

"I will."

Another silence. Then Blake looked around and muttered a curse under her breath.

"What's wrong?" Weiss asked, alarmed.

"I... um..." She lifted one crutch. The other was conspicuously absent.

They ducked back into the cave, Weiss already dreading what Brand might do. Blake had been standing, what, ten feet away from where he was curled up? If he started breathing fire... Pit could carry her back to Beacon, but what about—

"Oh."

The crutch was propped carefully against the cave wall, right at the edge of the chain's reach. Brand was curled up as far away from it as he could get, watching them from under one wing. Blake limped over with Pit's help and tucked it under her arm.

"...Thank you."

His tail twitched. Then he hid behind his wing.

Outside, sunlight glinted off a few dimples in the plastic of the crutch. Marks where Brand's teeth had been. They were tiny—as if he'd taken great care not to break it. Blake ran her fingertips over them and smiled.

"Hello?"

Whitley took a cautious step into the barn, Rusty's hood pulled low over his face to protect his ears from the cold.

"Rusty?" He moved to unzip the stable hand's jacket, then thought better of it. The barn was freezing as usual, and he wanted to keep it on as long as he could. His shoes made unpleasant slapping noises on the tiled floor. They were soaked through—yesterday his waterproof boots had also been taken for cleaning, even though they'd looked perfectly fine to him.

He was numb from the knee down. As he stepped carefully towards Glacier's stable, a full-body shiver ripped through him. His nose was running. "Rusty!" Whitley called again, feeling suddenly impatient. He was already dreading the trip back to the manor, and tossed his own coat—now freshly laundered and smelling like fabric softener—carelessly over a nearby stall door. He'd come back for it once he found—"Rusty! Hello?"

Ugh.

Whitley stamped his way to the end of the barn, then crossed his arms and glared at the door to Glacier's stall. He wasn't sure he dared call out... maybe Rusty was outside?

No. He marched up to the door, peering through the mesh. This was his legacy too, he couldn't keep running to an old stable hand for guidance. His breath frosted in the air as he leaned closer. The tip of his nose touched steel.

Inside, he could see a sullen lump curled against the far wall. The chain coiled around the room, tangling with the end of Glacier's tail. Whitley froze, wishing his heartbeat would slow down. The sight felt stolen, precious... he pushed his forehead against the grate, letting the cold bite into his skin.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed before he pulled back. His face was numb to match his throbbing feet. The manor, and his room with its heated air and warm blankets, suddenly seemed much more palatable. Still... he wanted to see those eyes again.

"Glacier?" he whispered.

No response.

Again, louder. When the dragon still didn't react, he looked around, half-expecting Rusty to jump out of the shadows and scold him for being so reckless. Slowly, hardly able to believe his luck, he unlatched the door... pushed...

It opened without so much as a whisper, the hinges well-oiled. Frost crunched under his shoes as he moved further inside, until he reached a spot he thought was just outside the radius of the chain.

"Glacier?"

Nothing. Not even a twitch. Whitley frowned—did he normally sleep this heavily? He moved a little closer, heart in his throat, dread creeping up like bile... but no. Glacier's chest rose and fell, so slowly that for a moment he almost thought he was imagining it.

Some animals fell into torpor during the winter. Whitley didn't think dragons were among them... should he get Father? The stable hand?

That sounded better. He turned and sprinted for the door, only to nearly bowl over a middle-aged faunus with two pointed fox ears and a face Whitley didn't recognize. He stopped dead, glancing from the stranger to the stall behind him.

"Where's Rusty?" he demanded.

The man stared at him for a moment, his mouth gaping open. Then he squinted, peering under Rusty's hood, and laughed. "Look at that, it's a Schnee! I guess one of you can tell the difference."

Alarm bells went off in Whitley's head. He screamed for Glacier, but was cut off when the man kneed him in the stomach. Then he was on the floor, gasping for breath. There was no sign of movement from the stall.

A hand came down and grasped him by the hair, hard. "I better call the others," the strange faunus said, smirking. "Not much point breaking in now, is there?"

"W-what did you do to—"

The faunus slid a switchblade out of his pocket. Whitley shut up.

He tried to think of what to do, but his mind had gone completely blank—there was only white noise, and he couldn't even move his numb hands when the faunus started tying them together with a length of rope.

"Follow me, and don't make trouble," he said. "Or we can see if your family really does bleed icewater. Got it?"

Whitley nodded frantically.

There was movement at the front of the barn. Four others walked in, all faunus. Rusty wasn't among them. They were rolling something between them—almost like a giant wheeled cart, one that only barely fit through the massive doors. It was crisscrossed with tough leather restraints, all much too big for a human.

Oh.

"You won't believe who I found," drawled the fox faunus, clapping Whitley roughly on the shoulder. He flinched, shaking from cold and from fear, still in his soaked shoes and Rusty's warm winter jacket.

"Looks like he decided to make this real easy for us."