Hello! I come bearing dragons play-fighting, and a couple of them not-quite-so-play fighting.

26. Combat Training

"Come on, Zircon," Sage said patiently. "You won't hurt each other, I promise."

Across from him, Nimbus tilted his head to one side. Zircon whined. He didn't want to fight, even if it was just an exercise.

It was their first day of combat training—which wasn't supposed to happen until next year, and they were supposed to be learning how to fight Grimm, not each other. But Professor Port and Professor Goodwitch had decided to teach them as much as they could, and as much as he hated it, Zircon understood why.

He'd still much rather avoid getting into all these fights in the first place. If the council wasn't so... but it was, so fighting wasn't going to be optional. And this was perfectly safe! It wasn't like he was trying to spar with Huo.

Across the clearing, Yang and Sun stepped in to referee his fight with Fang for the third time that morning. Storm seemed as reluctant as Zircon, and batted halfheartedly at Nymph with one paw. Ao Guang pounced on Freya who, after a moment's consideration, collapsed onto her side with her tongue lolling out.

And Twiggy...

She snarled at Mudslide, circling her with her wings partly extended. Then she lunged, snapping and clawing as if they were really fighting. Mudslide didn't seem worried. She shrugged most of it off, and retaliated by batting at the smaller dragon with her paws and tail.

Zircon's ears went back. Slowly, he turned to face Nimbus. Lifted one paw... and bopped his brother on the head. Nimbus let out an indignant yelp and jumped on him, knocking them both into a tangle of limbs until he squirmed free and pinned Zircon's tail to the ground. Then he barked and turned to Scarlet, his own tail wagging triumphantly.

Off to the side, Zircon heard a disparaging snort. He looked up and saw Cyclone, watching contemptuously while Vernal leaned against his shoulder. Pit used his powers on Specter, and in his panicked flailing the ice dragon accidentally turned himself upside-down. There was something nasty about Vernal's laughter.

"Can we help you?" asked Port.

"No... but I think I might be able to help you." Vernal gestured at the sparring dragons. "This kiddie stuff? It's nothing like a real fight. If you want them to learn, you'd be better off tracking down some Grimm."

"The idea," Goodwitch said dryly, "is for them to know how to defend themselves before they find themselves in a life or death situation." She grimaced. "Another life or death situation."

"There is no safe way to fight. This is just babying them." Vernal scratched Cyclone under the chin. His eyes went halfway lidded. "In the tribe, we learn by doing."

"Is that how he got all those scars?" asked Yang.

Vernal's smirk turned into a scowl. "Learning means you get scars. Messing around like this means you get dead." She half turned, flicking a hand in their direction as if despairing at their stupidity. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

After that, Zircon had a lot less trouble play-fighting with Nimbus.

Something was wrong with Twiggy. Sky could tell, and he'd barely interacted with the runt at Beacon. But watching her with Mudslide, biting and thrashing and generally taking the whole thing way too seriously...

At first he'd thought he'd have to step in, but Mudslide wasn't getting more aggressive to match. She just blocked attacks, retaliating only with as much force as sparring called for. Jaune kept telling Twiggy to calm down. She did seem to be trying to obey, but then she slipped again and clamped her jaws down on Mudslide's tail.

Mudslide shoved her off, grumbling deep in her chest and curling her tail behind her. "Sstop," she said. Sky was pretty sure something else followed, when she snorted at Twiggy and the smaller dragon wilted guiltily, but he couldn't understand it. All he knew was that there was a strange, almost melancholic look in Mudslide's eyes... and she still wasn't snapping back.

"Yo!"

Sky jumped. When he turned around Russel was already laughing at him. "Dude, chill. It's just us."

"Right..." Dove was behind him, gently slapping a palm against his forehead. Tank and Barracuda stopped sparring to watch their riders, until Russel whistled and they went back to it.

"The hell have you been doing out here, anyway?" Russel grinned. "I heard you beat the shit out of Cardin. That true?"

"Yeah."

"Good." Sky was a little startled by the way his teammate spat the word. "Fucker told them. It had to have been him."

"Told... what?"

"The council," Russel said impatiently. "He told them about the mutated dragons. They showed up right after Mudslide put him in the hospital—"

"She what?"

Mudslide looked over at him, her ears going back.

"Not that that's—I mean—" Sky sighed. "I didn't mean to sound mad, girl, just... what happened?"

"I dunno, but she broke his ribs. And he went and squealed. So I'm thinking we pay him a visit sometime and—"

"Russ," Dove said softly.

"I'm just saying, geez."

Dove stepped forward. He wouldn't look at Sky, but he spoke in his general direction. "I'm sorry. About everything that happened after..." Sky tensed, but he didn't say it. "And the stuff that came before. I should've said something, and I didn't."

"Nah." He cleared his throat. "It's... fine. There was a lot I could have done, too. And I didn't."

There was a long, awkward pause. Then Dove elbowed Russel in the side.

"Huh? Oh." He grimaced and folded his arms across his chest. "Yeah. Sorry." Another jab from Dove's elbow. "Quit it! I'm sorry for being a dick and thinking Cardin was funny, are you happy now?" He muttered darkly under his breath, something about what he was going to do the next time he saw their team leader. Sky remembered that Barracuda had trouble swimming, with the webbing between her paws as fragile as it was.

"Thanks," Sky said. "I'm glad you guys are here." He was mildly surprised to realize that he meant it.

The dragons kept tussling with one another for a while. As he turned away long enough to wipe the sweat out of his eyes, Sky noticed Pyrrha leaning against the trunk of a tree, staring blankly at the dragons as they sparred. He glanced at Mudslide and Twiggy. Their fight had calmed down a lot since the beginning of the lesson, and he decided Jaune could probably handle watching them for a few minutes.

When he got closer, he realized Pyrrha was watching Mudslide. He stopped a few feet away from her, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot, and said, "Hey."

She glanced up. "Oh. Hello."

Mudslide rammed into Twiggy with her full body weight, knocking her over. The runt whacked her with her tail. Professor Port walked up to them, scratching at his chin for a few seconds as they fought. He started talking, pointing here and there, giving the two of them instructions.

"You know," Pyrrha said softly, "I'm still not sure if she saved me because she likes me... or if she just did it because she knew it would frustrate the council."

Sky snickered. "Probably a little of column A, and a whole lot more of column B."

More silence. Twiggy pinned Mudslide's head to the ground with one paw. Mudslide buffeted her with her wings.

Funny. He was the only one in this group who knew what it was like, and he still didn't have the faintest idea what to say.

Pyrrha did. "What was Tornado like?" She kept her eyes fixed on the two dragons as they wrestled. "I feel like I didn't see him when he wasn't..."

Sky let out all his breath at once, like someone had just punched him in the stomach. Pyrrha looked like she was about to apologize, but he shook his head and said, "Scattered. He was really scattered." He sat cross-legged a few feet away from Pyrrha. "I knew he had problems, it was kind of obvious from the start. I mean, at first I just figured I had a really aggressive hatchling, but... then most of the fire dragons started to grow out of biting everything that moved. He didn't."

"Ren said he liked shiny things."

Sky laughed. "Yep. I had this cheap paperweight, a metal ball. He'd chase it in circles for hours. I swear, he never got tired of that thing..." His smile dropped. He'd meant to bring it with him to Raven's camp, but then he'd tried to hit Cardin with a shovel and sort of... ran off without packing anything. He wondered where it was, now.

"Anyway." He forced a smile. "Like I said, he could be kind of scattered. It was hard for him to focus. But when he did, like when I'd throw the ball... I don't know. It was like he lit up."

He went quiet, after that. He didn't have the words to describe the way Tornado could be, the pure, uncomplicated joy you could see in his eyes when he chased patterns of light across the floor.

"I used to worry about Titan. He seemed... very textbook, at first. He almost never bit me like the other fire dragons would. Whenever I told him to do something in training, he'd do it. It was like... I felt like I wasn't really getting to know him."

Sky could not relate.

"Then, as he got older..." She smiled wistfully. "The first time he met Jaune's sisters, I was half expecting him to try to keep one of them. He was so protective of Twiggy and the others... and at the park..." She trailed off, into the same impotent silence.

"Yeah," Sky said. "Yeah."

A few minutes later, he got up and went back to Mudslide.

Salty had seen his rider on the brink of death. He'd seen him so hungover he claimed he could feel the pounding of his headache in his toes, he'd seen him pale with blood loss after a fight with the Grimm gone south... and he'd seen him grieving far too many times.

And yet... he'd never seen him this uncomfortable before.

"Is this right?" he asked his scroll, grimacing as he fiddled with the tie.

Tai sighed. Qrow had called him out of the blue to ask for help when he realized he'd completely forgotten what Summer had shown him before the school dance, all those years ago. Salty also thought he'd wanted the excuse to check up on him. Their old friend was unkempt, his blond hair sticking up in all directions, with heavy shadows under his eyes.

"Qrow," he said slowly, "That is a shoelace knot."

Qrow shot him a winning grin. "And?"

A while later—much longer than Qrow would later admit—he ended the call and emerged into the street, now dressed in something relatively formal. His flask, Salty insisted, would stay in his hotel.

As they approached Beacon, Salty was almost overwhelmed by familiar sights and smells. There was still a faint echo of Ragnar's presence, and when he looked up at the soaring arches he could almost pretend he was a hatchling again.

Then he passed the barns. Great metal shutters had been installed on either side of each building, so that the dragons could be locked inside. There were other signs. Faces Salty recognized, students that had applied to Beacon and been rejected. Many had taken the sight test, and failed. Now the sight test was gone, and there were armed soldiers walking the pathways instead of Qrow's nieces. Salty swallowed a growl.

"Hey," Qrow called out to one. "Where can I find Wesley Wisteria?"

"Business?"

"Yeah. Interview."

The soldier pointed towards the tower. Again, Salty had to stamp down his instincts to keep from baring his teeth. That was Ozpin's office. He followed meekly behind his rider. Qrow was trying hard to make this work—Salty couldn't let him down.

They met Wisteria on the top floor. He was sitting behind the Dragonmaster's desk, in the Dragonmaster's chair, staring out the Dragonmaster's window at the wide lawns and winding pathways Salty had spent the best years of his life exploring. There was a gold pen on the desk that he must have brought in, and when he noticed Qrow he looked up and frowned.

"Ah. Yes. Qrow Branwen, isn't it?"

"That's me." Qrow shook his hand, flashing him a plastic smile.

The man hummed. "You were... insistent, over the phone."

"I know you need professors. I'd be happy to help out, however I can."

"Right. Yes." Wisteria grimaced. "I've heard of you. Your record with the Grimm is impressive."

"Thanks." Salty surreptitiously nudged Qrow with his tail. If Wisteria noticed the hint of sarcasm, he didn't show it.

"Yes." He cleared his throat. "I thought it best to speak with you in person. The council values your civic spirit, and I would very much like to recommend you to the Specialized Guard—"

"I'm sorry," Qrow said, through gritted teeth. "I must not have been clear. I know you're short on Professors here, and I thought—"

"That thought is appreciated," Wisteria said, "but new professors are being selected personally by the council. I couldn't appoint you to a position even if I wanted to, and quite frankly..." he trailed off. "To be blunt, your associations are not..."

"Right." Qrow folded his arms across his chest. "I get the picture."

"I have the number for the Sp—"

"That won't be necessary."

Qrow left the room, tugging at the tie as he went. It was stuffed in his pocket by the time they were back outside. Salty rumbled quietly to soothe his rider.

"I know. It was a long shot, but..." Qrow glanced around. Salty knew they were seeing the same thing—the shell of a sacred place, filled with something vile.

Maybe they could have done something. Maybe they could have helped the students. And yet, Salty couldn't help feeling relieved. He wasn't sure he could have stomached the role they would have had to play.

"I saw your... training."

Fang stopped mid-step, turning his head to see Cyclone and Vernal watching him. The wind dragon was cleaning his claws, the picture of nonchalance.

"Fang?" Yang followed where he was looking and tensed. "Come on," she muttered. He didn't budge.

"What?" he demanded, growling.

"It was cute," Cyclone sneered. "Watching you all flail around like your scales were still wet from the egg."

Fang hissed and bared his teeth. "Want to see it up close?"

"Fang," Yang said sharply. "Stop it."

Cyclone snapped at him, teeth slamming shut inches from his nose. Fang reared up onto his hind legs and roared. Yang put a hand out, then froze, glancing between the two of them. Slowly, she stepped back... but she kept a wary eye on the fight.

Good. Fang swiped at Cyclone with his paws, feeling fire bubbling up inside him. He hated this ugly wind dragon and his rider. He hated this camp, where older rogues always ordered them around while doing absolutely nothing themselves. And he hated Raven Branwen.

Vernal smirked. "Looks like he wants to see what a real fight is like." She whistled at Cyclone. "Put him in his place."

"Gladly," Cyclone growled, dropping into a crouch.

Fang snorted. "You look like you lost the only fight you've ever been in."

Cyclone snarled at him and flared his wings. Then he snapped again, catching Fang's foreleg in his jaws and shaking. It was his bad leg, the one that had been shot, and the pain was blinding. He wrenched free and jumped at the older dragon. They rolled on the ground, growling and snapping.

"Come on," Vernal snapped. "Bite!"

He pressed Fang into the dirt and tried to sink his teeth into his shoulder. Fang struggled, managed to free one paw and rake his claws at the other dragon's chest.

Vernal's eyes narrowed. "You call that—"

"That's enough!" Yang stepped between them as Cyclone reared back, his head fins flaring in outrage. The scratches on his chest were shallow, but one of them was bleeding a little.

"See, this is why they're all so useless," Vernal said. "You need to let them fight, it's how they learn."

"Let them fight? Yes." All four of them whirled at the new voice. Raven looked at Vernal disdainfully. "Egg them on? No. Unless you want to goad them into killing one another?"

Vernal flushed and shot Yang a venomous look, like it was somehow her fault. "They're soft."

"They are." Raven turned her attention on Fang. He bared his teeth, wondering if biting her would be worth it. Probably not—he didn't want to fight Phoenix. "They'll grow out of it, or they'll die. Don't waste bandages on pointless fights."

"I didn't—"

Raven held up a hand, and Vernal went silent. "Get the camp ready. We're hosting an important guest the day after tomorrow." Vernal obeyed. Cyclone slunk after her, shooting Fang a last glare that promised future retribution.

Only the three of them left, now. Phoenix was nowhere to be seen. Raven approached Fang, looking him up and down with a critical eye. "He's healthy?"

"Yeah."

"Rare, in your class." Fang growled as she got closer. If she touched him, she was losing a finger—he didn't care what Phoenix would do.

"I guess."

"Fire dragons aren't easy to raise. Keep handling him like you did today, and he should be a real fighter." And Raven left.

Fang stood next to his rider, both of them staring at the place where she'd been. Both hating the faint thrill that came with the praise. He growled and called her a word he'd heard Russel say once.

Yang patted his shoulder. "Couldn't have said it better myself."