Hello again! I come bearing a student of Shade, territorial Brand, and terrible decision making.

20. Left Behind

When May's scroll went off at four in the morning, she almost didn't answer. She lunged at the device to silence it, looking around to make sure that all her teammates were still asleep. Roy mumbled something and turned over. No one else even stirred.

Rubbing irritably at her eyes, she gave the scroll a second glance. She expected her dad—he tended to forget that she was in a different timezone, now, and that not everyone got up as offensively early as he did. Instead she saw a string of seemingly random symbols where the scroll ID should be.

"What the...?"

She slipped outside and accepted the call, ready to to hang up and go back to sleep if she heard someone trying to sell her something.

"May Zedong."

The voice buzzed like something mechanical. It tripped an alarm in the back of her mind—it was familiar, but she couldn't think of why.

"Who is this?"

"You will go to Beacon Academy."

"Wh—"

"You will bring your rifle. You will tell no one. We will—"

"Wait!" She glanced around frantically. The hallway was dark and deserted. She whispered anyway. "How do you know about that?!"

"We will provide you with airship tickets."

"But I—"

"We understand your Flurry still can't support your weight. Strange for a wind dragon, isn't it?"

Under the robotic droning, the tone was casual. Conversational. May reached out to steady herself against the wall.

"It must have something to do with those wing joints."

The faux-sympathy was sickening. She hated it, but not as much as she hated the way her voice broke as she whispered, "Don't tell anyone." Flurry wouldn't last a week in the pits. He was too gentle, he wouldn't want to hurt a fly, much less...

"We will send you the details," the voice said. "Tell no one about this call. Tell no one where you are going."

"I won't. Just don't—"

The call ended.

May slid down the wall until she was sitting with her knees against her chest, staring at the blank screen.

A long time later she got up, glanced at the door to her dorm, and started walking down the hall. There was no way she'd be able to get back to sleep.

Flurry was out cold when she got to his stall, curled in a ball with one wing draped over the floor. She leaned against the door, watching. As he hummed and rolled over, the joint bent oddly before popping back into place.

In her pocket, her scroll buzzed once. May closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against the stall door. Later, she'd check the message and pack her things. Come up with some excuse for the boys.

Later...

"We can't stay here."

Sienna strode past Corsac, ignoring him.

"Sienna!" He and Fennac fell in beside her, even as she lengthened her stride in an attempt to leave them behind. "We can't keep doing this!"

"We won't."

"Then why are we still here?" Corsac gestured at their surroundings. "The hybrid is valuable, yes, but we should be halfway to Vacuo by now."

"I know." She wove between two tents and stopped in front of the one that held their supplies. "She's going to have to eat, if we just wait a little longer—"

"Tomorrow."

She looked up sharply. The Lieutenant had come from inside the supply tent, his arms folded over his chest.

"Right." She had to force the word out. "If she still hasn't taken the bait by this time tomorrow—"

"No. Tomorrow morning." He glanced up at the darkening sky. "It's too late to move now."

"We've had two successes in almost as many years, and you're all suggesting we leave one in the woods?" Where was Ilia? Could she count on support from her?

It didn't matter. They wouldn't have majority, and she couldn't justify tearing apart the fragile balance between the five of them over one missing dragon.

"Tomorrow morning," the Lieutenant said again, and left.

Sienna spent the rest of the evening in the tent across from their supplies. She made sure to seal the entrance so that the hatchling couldn't catch her scent on the air. Five others waited with her, including Ilia. They would sleep in shifts throughout the night, waiting for a noise from the other tent.

And no matter how smart the hatchling was... there would definitely be a noise if she tried to steal food again.

Sienna should have been asleep by the third watch. She sat up straight, cross-legged, a can of truly vile coffee in one hand. The dragonet had broken into their best supply, dried it to dust, and not eaten a bite of it. It was hard to imagine that as anything but an act of spite.

As she waited, she fretted about the racket the crickets were making. Would she even hear the—

Crack!

She was at the wall of the tent in an instant, tearing open the flap and sprinting outside. The sound had awakened more than just the rest of their volunteers. All around the camp people were emerging groggily from their tents. Some held blankets in their hands to use as makeshift nets.

Inside the supply tent, the hatchling cowered in front of a small crate they'd set up on one side of the room. After Ilia had mentioned that she seemed to find food by smell, they'd decided to use a skinned pheasant as bait. A simple lock was left on the outside for the creature to puzzle out. And, on the inside, a firecracker was rigged to go off the moment the box opened.

She was bigger. Sienna was startled to see just how much bigger—once the length of her forearm from nose to tail, she was now almost double that. She looked smaller as she curled up, pawing at her eyes—how close had she been when the Dust went off?

"We don't want to hurt you," Sienna said, her voice calm and soothing. "Come on. Come here, and we'll get you something good to eat. You can have that whole pheasant if you—"

The hatchling's head whipped back and forth as she shrieked angrily. Others were coming in through the tent flap, now, sheets and blankets in hand. Sienna herself had a gigantic canvas bag which she held out, moving closer to the dragonet. She didn't seem to notice.

"Good," Sienna cooed. "Good, just stay right there." Slowly, she held the mouth of the bag over the hatchling, lowered it...

One moment the dragonet was whining and pawing at her eyes. The next something slammed into Sienna's shins, and she toppled. Someone behind her screamed. When she rolled onto her side to try and see what was going on, Ewan—one of the volunteers that had stayed up with her—was crumpled against a stack of crates. The sheet he'd used as a net was shredded, with scraps of cloth scattered all around him. Similar violence had opened a hole in the tent wall.

"Go!" Sienna shouted, pointing. She scooped up her bag and charged after the dragonet. Some followed her, Ilia among them, while others stayed behind and knelt by the downed man.

Outside, she caught a glimpse of motion almost thirty feet away, disappearing between two tents. Sienna sprinted after it, skidding around the corner. At first, all she saw was an empty path. Then there was a flicker of light to her left. The hatchling was crouched in the shadows between two piles of crates, her bright yellow eyes reflecting a glimmer of moonlight.

Sienna didn't like her odds with the bag. Instead she knelt down and said softly, "You remember me, don't you?"

The hatchling tried to back away, but ran into one of the crates.

"I'm your rider. I'm supposed to raise you and keep you safe."

Those eyes bored into hers as the creature tensed, her back arching slightly to make herself look bigger. She made a sound like sandpaper rasping against stone. There was blood on her claws.

"Easy... easy..."

The hatchling stuck her neck out, head tilted curiously to one side. Sienna inched closer. She didn't hiss again, just sat there watching. Slowly, carefully, she leaned in close. Reached out to scratch the dragonet's head.

A blast of desiccated air hit her directly in the face. Only instinct made her blink, protecting her eyes from the worst of it. The pain was still so intense that she launched herself backwards, curling her arms around her head to protect it.

"Sienna!"

Ilia's voice.

"The dragonet," she said, trying to open her eyes. All she saw was a dim blur before they squeezed themselves shut again. "Find..."

"She's gone."

"Damn it!"

"Sienna."

"What?" She struggled to her feet. There still weren't any tears in her eyes, just a horrible stinging. When she touched the bridge of her nose, she felt the skin crack.

"You need to come back to the tent. Ewan..."

"What are you—" A cold feeling settled in her stomach. He was the man the hatchling had tackled to the ground. "What happened?"

"I don't know, but I heard..."

Sienna wanted to bolt for the tent. Instead she had to let Ilia lead her while she stumbled along blind, periodically trying to blink her eyes open. By the time they got there she could make out general shapes, and she was finally starting to tear up.

That meant she could see Ewan. He'd been turned over since he slumped across the crates, and with his front exposed it was immediately obvious that he wasn't going to survive. The scratches were deep, and while most had been taken on his forearms and chest, one had landed on his throat. Someone had tried to use the shredded sheet to stop the bleeding, but he had already gone paper white.

Sienna forced herself to kneel and touch one clammy hand. She didn't say anything—'I'm sorry' felt wholly inadequate. She waited.

A few moments later, she turned to address the crowd of onlookers. "Get a few more hours' sleep," she said. "Then pack everything up. We're leaving for Vacuo the first thing tomorrow morning."

As she marched around the camp, preparing what she could before sunrise, she tried to numb her mind. Instead they ran on in a horrible, endless loop—bloody claws, the scream as Ewan toppled into the stack of crates. Her hands tightened into fists.

They were supposed to be tools. Weapons. She should have known this one was more trouble than it was worth from the moment it attacked Ilia. They would try again, they would raise more hybrids like Harbinger. The vicious little creature could keep haunting these woods for the rest of its life, as far as Sienna was concerned.

No matter how many times she thought it, even when it became a mantra she chanted to herself over and over, she couldn't escape the feeling that she'd been judged... and found wanting.

Brand sat on his haunches, panting. His lungs burned from walking around, even if it was only in the forest just outside his cave. Every muscle in his body felt heavy and useless. His thoughts moved sluggishly.

Eventually, he got his breath back. Instead of continuing to explore, he curled up in a patch of dappled sunlight and closed his eyes. He wasn't sleepy, but the bone-deep tiredness that had settled in him hadn't gone away. Not even when the chain came off.

He draped a wing over his face. Thinking about the chain was bad—better to think about nothing at all. He tried to make himself sink into sleep. When that didn't work he turned over onto his side, gazing lazily up at the clouds. They were still tinted pink and gold from the sunrise.

Without warning, the peaceful moment was interrupted by a heady foreign smell. Earth dragon. He got to his feet and loped off towards the scent, feeling a little of the lethargy fall away in the face of someone encroaching on his territory.

He moved carefully as the source of the smell came closer, positioning himself so that he was downwind. Then, when he heard twigs snap under the intruder's paws, he burst out of the undergrowth and bellowed a challenge.

The intruder was small. Muddy brown scales, moss-green eyes, her ears pinned back in alarm. Brand flared his wings and hissed. Fire bubbled up from the pit of his stomach. Little movements of his wings made the haze of smoke pouring from between his jaws billow and writhe. His tail lashed back and forth, hitting a small sapling and snapping it in two.

She turned tail and bolted into the trees.

Brand's mouth snapped shut. He fell abruptly back onto his haunches, staring at the empty clearing, his spine still tingling with the adrenaline of a fight that would never come. Then that, too, faded away.

He lay down on the soft undergrowth and went back to watching the clouds.

Sometime later, there was another smell. Not an intruder this time, but the kind human named Hazel. He considered getting up. Instead he made a loud chuffing noise and waited to be found.

Hazel greeted him with a light touch on the nose, careful as always to stop a few inches short and wait for Brand to close the gap. Then he sat down cross-legged by his head and said, "The White Fang is moving camp."

Brand lifted his head off the ground. "Go 'way?"

"Yes. We're needed in Vacuo."

He tried to stop the distressed whine and failed. Hazel held out a hand towards his ears, offering to scratch them. Brand snapped at his fingers. No matter how close he got, that never drew a reaction from the human—and this was no exception.

"Bad," he grumbled. "Go 'way."

"You can come with us, if you like."

At that, he perked up. He hadn't considered leaving his cave. Adam had wanted him to stay there—it felt wrong to disobey, even for short walks through the woods. But Sienna and Hazel and Ilia and Blake all said he was dead.

His ears pinned back against his head. He didn't want to be left alone here. He didn't like sleeping with the chain so close by. And yet...

"Lake!" There were only four people he wanted to see. One of them was gone, and now the others were all going away.

Hazel's expression darkened. "I doubt Blake will be at Beacon much longer."

Brand hissed. "Nno!"

"I'm sorry, I can't help that. Ilia and Justice will be with us, though. You could meet Harbinger—he's the youngest dragon the Fang have." At that, Hazel grimaced.

Brand didn't want to meet a new dragon. He wanted to stay where he could see Blake and Ilia and Hazel.

But if he didn't go...

He snapped at Hazel's face this time, blowing smoke to signal his displeasure. The human's face fell. Then Brand said, "Rrand... go."

Hazel smiled. "I'm glad."

Brand wasn't. But if someone had to go away... maybe it was best that it was the most confusing one. The one that it hurt so much to look at.

When morning came, Ilia still hadn't slept. She'd just laid on her back on her bedroll, staring at the canvas ceiling of her tent and wondering when everything had started going so wrong. When Blake left? No... a long time before that.

She stumbled through the morning's preparations, packing up her tent and lending a hand wherever it was needed. Just before they were about to head out, Hazel returned with Brand in tow. He snorted nervously as he entered the camp. Then he greeted the people around him with wary sniffs and relaxed at the familiar smells. No one was stupid enough to get too close—except, apparently, Hazel. Ilia grimaced.

Soon they were on the move, laboring under heavy packs. According to the others it was much easier than the march to Beacon, now that they had dragons old enough to carry some of the lab equipment. Ewan's tentmates split his belongings between them.

By the end of the day, all conversation had died. The hunters they'd sent ahead came back empty-handed, and with how much food they'd lost in the past few days their meals were noticeably smaller. There'd be no way to resupply until they were closer to Fang supporters in Vacuo.

Ilia didn't have the heart to complain, even when they'd set up camp for the night and everyone was well-rested enough for grumbling. She just stared into the fire, nestled between Justice and Brand, trying to ignore the hollow ache in her chest.

Night fell. She pitched her tent and collapsed, exhausted, onto her bedroll. That was almost the end of it, until someone tapped on the canvas flap.

"What," she growled.

Hazel poked his head inside. "Someone would like to see you," he whispered. "Leave the camp in two hours and walk east."

Ilia opened her mouth to argue, but before she got the chance he had disappeared again. She groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose. Another late night, and another long day of hiking. Fantastic.

She considered ignoring the message... but she didn't dare. Not when she didn't know who had sent it in the first place. So, a little less than half an hour after midnight, she slipped out of the camp and into the trees.

Only a few minutes later, she almost tripped over a small heap of bones. Swearing under her breath, she backed up and stared. Judging by the size, she guessed it might have been a fox, or maybe a raccoon. It had long since been picked clean by scavengers, with only a few scraps of dried skin still clinging to the bones.

Stepping past it, she continued further into the woods. The wind picked up, making her shiver. Leaves whispered to one another overhead. A twig snapped. Ilia stopped dead, turning in a small circle with her heart in her throat. There wouldn't be any humans from the school out here... had someone followed her from camp? A much more chilling thought occurred to her—could it have been a Grimm?

Minutes passed. Eventually she swallowed hard and pushed further into the woods, keeping her ears peeled for any other suspicious noises. Even if that last one had probably been an animal of some kind.

Several minutes later she came to a small clearing and stopped, listening. It was hard to tell if this was supposed to be the meeting place. Had she veered too far north?

Another branch snapped—this time the noise was much louder. She whipped around, and immediately its source was obvious. Blue eyes in the dark, muscle rippling under black and gold scales. And a rider Ilia recognized from Hazel's description.

"You're Cinder," she said, when the two were close enough to hear. She wished she'd brought Justice with her, but there had been no way to sneak him out of the camp.

"I am." She dismounted in one fluid motion.

"You came all the way out here to talk to me? Why?"

Cinder smirked. "I was in the area. Another meeting, one I'll need to arrange in person. I decided to scout the local talent on the way."

Ilia shifted uneasily under the stare of both Cinder and the dragon Hazel had called Strike. "Talent?" It came out a lot shakier than she'd intended.

"Of course. I think you underestimate how hard it is to find competent, trustworthy people."

"I don't—"

The protest died out as Cinder stepped uncomfortably close, still smirking. Dark hair brushed over her shoulder. All of a sudden Ilia saw gold in her eyes instead of fiery orange, and realized just how much she looked like...

"Think about it."

And just like that she was walking away, pulling herself into the saddle. Ilia opened and closed her mouth a few times. There was no way in hell she would work with a human... but by the time she'd gotten her voice back, Cinder was gone.

Ilia kicked at a rock and sent it skittering into the woods. She should definitely have ignored Hazel and gone to sleep.

As she started the long trek back to the camp, the stone she'd kicked slid to a halt at the bottom of a small rise. A few inches away was a tiny bundle of bones and feathers, the remains of a small bird... and a bush, to which a few shriveled berries still clung.

So. Next chapter. Yes... *Hides in a shoe*