Hi there! This chapter we've got some of the older generation of dragons—Glacier, Ragnar, and Phoenix!

28. The Important Guest

The shovel struck the ground, sinking in several inches and standing straight up. Jaune leaned against it, both hands clasped over the handle, resting his forehead on the back of his gloves.

There weren't any stables in the Branwen tribe. There were dragons, though, and they had to be taken care of. So instead of mucking out stables, he cleaned up the spaces outside riders' tents where their dragons slept. Pyrrha worked quietly and methodically beside him, moving like she was half-asleep.

I'm sorry. Jaune bit down on the words and hefted the shovel instead. He had no idea what to say. The last time he'd tried... he swallowed hard. Everything he said just made things worse.

Eventually they were finished. Mander, the fire dragon without horns, poked his head over his rider's tent and snorted approvingly. He curled up in his usual spot, put his head down on his paws, and started to snore. Pyrrha lingered for a long moment. Staring.

"Come on," Jaune said, gently taking her hand. "Let's go find Vernal."

Working for Raven was... strange. They hardly ever saw her—and when they did, it was only long enough for her to bark orders at them. She put Vernal in charge of making them help around the camp. Jaune wasn't sure, but he had a sneaking suspicion that she was deliberately giving them the worst jobs she could find.

Cyclone snarled at them when they approached. Vernal glanced up just long enough to jab a finger towards the campfire and tell them they could help skin the day's catch. Jaune turned, very slowly, to see one of the rogues sitting on a log with a knife and a dead squirrel.

"Uh..."

"If you want to eat," she snapped, "you work."

The woman with the knife turned out to be quite friendly by Branwen standards, and with her help they managed to get the job done mostly unscathed. Jaune still cut himself twice, and by the time they were finished the smell had thoroughly ruined his appetite. He was also convinced that yes, Vernal was doing this on purpose.

Dinner was loud. Most of the noise came from the rogues at first. Then one of them decided it would be a good idea to teach Nora a drinking song, and things sort of devolved from there. Jaune sat with Pyrrha on the sidelines, sneaking glances at her face whenever Nora did something ridiculous—like starting a competition with Sun to see who could fit the most blackberries in their mouth at once. Sometimes he saw the ghost of a sad smile. He would have wrestled a King Taijitu to be able to make her laugh, just once.

As the fire died down and the rogues filtered back to their tents, Ren approached with a tin cup. "Do you like mint?"

Pyrrha blinked at him. "I... yes?"

"Here." He handed her the cup. Steam wafted from it, smelling wonderfully fresh. "I found some in the woods this morning."

"Thank you."

He sat on Pyrrha's other side as she curled her hands around the cup, sipping at the tea. Nora wandered over a moment later and plopped down mostly on top of Ren. Twiggy lay behind them, her flank warm against their backs.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jaune noticed Professor Port walking past the fire. "I'll be right back," he said, giving Pyrrha's hand a last squeeze before he moved away.

"Professor?"

Port turned and smiled through his mustache. "Hello, dear boy!"

Jaune stood there, shuffling his feet, groping for words.

"Was there something you wanted to ask me?"

"...Yeah." He looked over his shoulder at his team, all gathered around Pyrrha. At Twiggy, who was resting her head in the spot he'd just vacated. "What... what do I do?"

"Ah." Port's face fell for only an instant before he covered it with a chuckle and clapped Jaune on the shoulder. "To tell you that I'd have to know myself."

"Right..."

"Be there, m'boy. That's all you can do." His smile was strangely understanding. "It's natural to feel useless in times like these, but that doesn't mean you are."

A vast blanket of green and brown spread across the valley, trees growing together in lockstep. Small animals chattered in the undergrowth, birds called to one another as they hopped from branch to branch, leaves rustled together... and another voice, like crystal chimes, sang a song it only half remembered.

Glacier paused, tilting his head to one side as if listening to someone. Then he tried again, singing in that eerie whistling way he had. Whitley hummed along, though he struggled to follow the notes. He could play the piano, but he'd never been much of a singer. Still, it was... nice.

"I don't suppose you could tell me where you heard that?" he asked the dragon. Glacier craned his neck to give him his usual blank, wide-eyed stare. "Didn't think so." Whitley scratched him under the chin, prompting a happy chirp and a flick of his ear.

Whitley yawned and stretched. The blanket he'd draped over Glacier's back shifted underneath him. He hadn't cut himself on the ice dragon's spines since he'd started using it as a makeshift saddle... though he very much doubted it would stay on in the air. That didn't matter much, not when Glacier hadn't tried to take off since that night with the Grimm. Whitley had asked him—not to go to Atlas, necessarily. Just to fly. He hadn't done it.

Things were easier, now. Whitley had learned not to kick Glacier like a horse to spur him on—he'd hissed and bared his teeth, and that was that. He'd learned how to cook what the dragon caught all the way through, and had even managed to find a few berries he recognized as edible. He'd learned what it felt like to wake up gently, without an alarm, with the morning sun streaming through the trees.

He had not learned where he was. The faunus villager had told him he was in Vale, but he still didn't have a clue how far the city was, or in which direction. It seemed less important with every passing day.

Things were... manageable. He hated sleeping on the ground and eating his own cooking. He could live with the slight chill in the air now that he had boots and a warm blanket. But sometimes the light would hit the membranes in Glacier's wings just so, or a gust of wind would blow through a tangle of bushes bursting with flowers, and he'd forget he was supposed to be looking for another town.

"You're a stubborn lizard," he said, patting Glacier's back. Every time he tried to wander off on his own, the dragon would track him down and deposit him on his back. "You know we'll have to go back sometime, right?"

Glacier flicked an ear.

Whitley gave him another pat. "They're probably worried about us." He had a hard time imagining how any of his family had reacted to him going missing. Mother wouldn't take it well, if anyone told her. Would they? Would she notice, if they didn't? What about Weiss and Winter? They wouldn't be glad, he knew that much. And father... he just couldn't picture it. Couldn't imagine what would have gone through his head.

Glacier whistled and nudged him with his nose. Whitley came back to himself with a small start, and mustered a smile. "I'm fine." The dragon felt the need to lick him anyway. His tongue was cool, like fresh grass in the shade.

They walked like that a long time. Glacier sang—almost the same set of notes each time, just tiny changes here or there, spiraling closer and closer to something so familiar... Whitley was half convinced that one of these days the dragon would hit on the right combination, and whatever memory the melody kept tugging on would spring to the front of his mind.

Today was not that day. Night fell, and Glacier stopped under the branches of a massive oak. Whitley slid off his back. Then the dragon curled up, lifting a wing in invitation. He crawled under it, wrapping the blanket around himself, not even bothering to take off his boots. His head rested against Glacier's forepaw, and he fell asleep feeling the slight chill of pale scales under his cheek.

"Ragnar!"

Oscar jogged along the now-familiar path, a bale of hay slung over his shoulders. "I brought dinner!"

He skidded to a stop, breathing hard. Ragnar wasn't in his usual spot. Oscar turned and came face to face with grey-brown scales. He looked up. And up. And up...

"Oh," he said, his voice a little higher than usual. "You're... um..."

The dragon was a lot taller now that he was standing up. He limped closer, nosing at the hay, and snorted. "Thank 'oo."

"You're welcome! I'm glad to see you're feeling better." Ragnar still limped badly when he walked up to the bale and started to eat, but even that much was an improvement. Oscar also checked the stitches he'd made to the great dragon's wings, and was relieved to find that they, too, were healing well.

Ragnar rumbled deep in his chest. Chewed. The hay bale slowly disappeared, with the few loose bits of straw that fell to the ground being sniffed out and gobbled up. Oscar frowned—it was hard to tell if he was bringing enough food or not. It wasn't like he knew what he was supposed to feed a dragon the size of a barn.

When he was finished, Ragnar hummed contentedly. His head turned towards Oscar. Grey eyes blinked slowly. And then, very carefully, he leaned forward. Hardly daring to breathe, Oscar held up a hand. The dragon pressed his nose against his palm. "Scarr... gud." His arm vibrated with the deep voice.

Ragnar pulled away. He limped off into the woods, painfully slowly, his tail dragging behind him. It took a moment for Oscar to shake himself out of his daze.

"Hey, wait! Where are you going?"

The dragon paused. "Ozz... kill..."

"Wait, what? You want to kill someone?!" Oscar jogged to intercept Ragnar as he walked, stopping in front of him with his arms spread out.

"Yes." He nudged Oscar out of the way with his nose, making him stumble. "Kill... one... kill Oz."

Oz... Ozpin. "You want to find the people that hurt your rider."

A low growl he felt in his skull. "Nno. No hurt. Kill."

Oscar swallowed hard. "The people that killed him, then."

"Yes."

"Do... do you mean the council?"

Ragnar snarled. "Yes!"

Oscar took a deep, steadying breath. "I won't stop you."

"Gud."

"But... wait until you're stronger. Please."

The dragon glared at him. "Need... need—!"

"I know! I know." Oscar reached out, hesitated... but this time Ragnar let him touch his flank, running a hand across the rough scales. "But you're still healing. You won't be able to do anything until you're stronger. If you try to fight them now..."

Ragnar's legs were already shaking with the effort of keeping him upright. The anger drained out of him as he slumped back to the ground and lay on his stomach. He snorted irritably. "Rroo," he grumbled—and before Oscar could ask what that meant, "Ffine. Wait."

"Thank you." Oscar patted his side.

"Soon," Ragnar insisted, holding his gaze. "Go soon."

"...Yeah."

Oscar walked back to the farm with his mind racing. Until now, he'd mostly known the council very distantly as the people his aunt paid taxes to. The ones who told dragon riders where to go to protect the people from Grimm. Since he'd seen the news broadcast about Beacon, though... they said Ragnar had started the fight. But looking at him, remembering his cries after he'd first crash-landed...

Someone killed Ozpin. That had started the fight at Beacon, not the students, not the teachers, and not Ragnar. And who else would have done it except them?

He was still lost in thought when he opened the back door and walked into the house. Then he froze, doing a double-take when he saw two men in suits sitting at the kitchen table. "What—"

"Oscar!" His aunt put down the kettle she'd just taken off the stove. "These men are from the council, they wanted to ask you a few questions."

"Oh." He tried to smile, but it felt horribly fake and unnatural. "I, um..."

"We're looking for a rogue dragon," the man on the left said. "It's very dangerous. Anything you saw might help us."

"You were out in the fields that morning. I told them if anyone would've been outside at such an ungodly hour..." His aunt smiled playfully at him.

"Uh..." Oscar glanced between the two men, then stared fixedly at the kettle when panic started to blur his thoughts. "Actually, yeah. There was something... it looked a little big to be a bird, but it was hard to tell."

"Did you see which way it went?" asked the man on the right, leaning forward.

Oscar glanced out the window and pointed westward. "Over towards the lake, I think."

They stood up. The one on the left gave him a friendly clap on the shoulder. "You've been a big help, son," said the one on the right.

"Yeah." He shoved his hands in his pockets. "No problem."

Oscar watched them leave. Then, through the window, he caught sight of them walking towards the lake. His hands balled into fists. He couldn't warn Ragnar, not now—he might lead them right to him.

Would they find Ragnar if he stayed put? Would he have stumbled right into them if he'd left when he wanted to?

Oscar fled to the safety of his room and flopped down on his bed, staring at the ceiling. It took that long for it to hit him—he'd just lied to council representatives. He'd hidden a fugitive. More than that... he'd picked a side.

They were in the woods, this time. Fang curled around a tree, Yang leaning her back against the trunk and gently stroking his injured foreleg. He cracked one eye open as she approached. It didn't narrow in suspicion, like it might have when they first arrived. Instead he just watched as Phoenix padded towards them.

Yang looked up. Phoenix offered her nose, her eyes fluttering shut as a hand came to rest on her snout. She smelled like Raven, and... it had been so long since she'd seen Tai, she'd almost forgotten his scent.

"Ang," she rumbled, drawing back. "'Lo."

"Hey."

Blunt fingernails scratched at the ridges behind her eyes. Phoenix purred, her tail wagging.

"Does she know you're here?" Yang asked quietly.

The purr died away. "Nno," Phoenix admitted.

A scoff. "Of course she doesn't."

Phoenix made a pained noise. "No!" It wasn't like that. Raven hadn't told her not to come, she just... "Rrae... talk... hard."

Yang scuffed at the ground with one boot, scattering a few dead leaves. "She doesn't have a problem ordering me around."

"Duh... diff-rrent."

"...Yeah." She picked up a leaf and twirled it between her fingers. "Whatever."

Silence fell, aside from the crinkling of the leaf and their breathing. A lock of hair fell into Yang's eyes—the same one that always bothered her mother. She was almost the same age Raven had been, when they met for the first time.

Phoenix had seen Yang before now—though only for a few days, just after she was born. It was hard to imagine that this tall young woman had come from that tuft of blonde fuzz poking out from a bundle of blankets. Sad, somehow, to realize she'd lost the wide, curious eyes of a hatchling somewhere along the way. Sadder that Phoenix didn't know where.

"Sorry..."

Yang shredded the leaf between her fingers. "Yeah. I know."

Neither of them spoke for a long while. Then there was a noise, further off in the woods. Twigs snapping. Phoenix picked her head up and watched, her shoulders tensing until she saw red between the trees and relaxed.

Ruby broke into a run when she saw them, stopping a few feet in front of Yang and panting with her hands on her knees. "There... you are."

"Is everything okay?" Yang half-rose from her seat. "No one's hurt, or—"

"No!" Ruby waved her hands frantically. "No, we're fine! Um..." She glanced at Phoenix. "I was worried about you, actually."

"What? I'm fine, I was just hanging out with Fang."

"Uh-huh." Ruby planted both hands on her hips. "Since when do you hang out alone in the woods? This is, like, the third time."

"I can walk around if I want!"

"Yeah, but you've never done it before." Ruby plopped down in front of her, so that their feet were touching. "I just... you can talk to me, if you want. I know you're not super glad to be here."

Yang glanced up, briefly meeting Phoenix's gaze. "It's fine. I... don't really want to talk about it right now."

Silver eyes flicked towards the dragon. "Oh. Right."

That stung—deserved as it might have been. Worse was when Phoenix lowered her head to greet her. The smell struck her like a knife in her chest, twisting... it was as if Summer had walked back into the world while she was looking the other way.

Phoenix had never met Ruby as a baby. Had missed all Yang's years in between. Had heard from Salty that Summer was dead, more than a year after the fact. She pressed her nose to Yang's forehead, rumbled a quiet goodbye, and walked away.

Raven was in her tent, where Phoenix had left her. She glanced up when the dragon entered and gave her a pat on the nose. "Almost done," she said, gesturing at the heap of papers on the table. "We should be able to find somewhere a bit more permanent in the next day or two."

"Gud."

Her rider picked up one of the papers, then paused when she noticed Phoenix was still staring at her. "What?"

"Ang."

Raven grimaced. "I told you, it's not important."

Phoenix let out an irritated growl. "Is."

"I made my choice. The right choice."

Before, maybe. When Yang was a baby and didn't even know what the council was. Now that she was here...

"Talk."

They gathered in the center of the camp an hour later—the students, the rogues, and all their dragons. Raven watched them from her place beside Phoenix. They waited.

Ruby thought it was warmer than it had been the past few days, but Emerald shivered and hugged her arms around her stomach. She kept biting her lip and glancing anxiously at the sky. "Are you okay?"

She started at the sound of Ruby's voice. "I—yeah. I'm fine."

Mercury glanced over at her, an irritated, almost pitying look on his face. He said something in her ear, and she jabbed him hard in the ribs. Ruby frowned. "What—"

"Nothing!"

This time, it was Mercury who elbowed Emerald in the side. He gave her a significant look.

"Um..." Ruby glanced from one to the other. "Are you two, uh..."

A final, vicious poke from Mercury. "Last chance," he muttered.

Emerald whacked his shoulder and said, "It's nothing. He's just an asshole."

"Yeah, sure, call me an asshole the one time I try to—"

In the distance, a dragon called out. Mercury broke off mid-sentence, and Ruby searched the sky. It was impossible to see it properly. Even when she finally spotted it, all she could make out was the occasional shadow as it passed in front of the stars. But as it got closer... there was something familiar about it. She could see stripes, now, black and gold.

Oh...

The dragon landed in the center of the camp, right beside Raven and Phoenix. It was even bigger than she was, with eyes that burned blue like the heart of a fire. And its rider...

"You're her." Ruby stepped forward, feeling the woman's eyes on her. "You're the woman from the broodery. And at the Vytal Festival—!"

"Yes. I am."

She raised her hands and beckoned at the crowd. For a moment Ruby was just confused. Then Emerald and Mercury walked past her, stopping on either side of the woman. Her mouth dropped open, and something hot and sickly settled in the pit of her stomach. Emerald wasn't looking at her.

"My name is Cinder Fall."

Ruby opened her mouth again, but stopped when Raven shot her a quelling look. "Well?" she said, gesturing at the crowd. "You wanted to speak to us."

"Our alliance up until now has been unofficial," Cinder said. Behind her back, Yang clenched a fist. "And, of course, you've picked up a few new faces." Her eyes raked over the assembled students. "I'll be brief. We're going to war with the council."

There were sharp intakes of breath among the students. Pyrrha looked up for the first time since Cinder had landed.

"And you'd like my tribe to help you?"

"All those who are willing."

Their conversation was almost casual. Ruby suspected they'd already worked this out beforehand, and that this was just a ceremony to make it official.

"We accept." Raven held out a hand that Cinder shook.

"Good." She looked back over the sea of faces. "I hope the rest of you will do the same. And together... we'll bring the council to their knees." Cheers erupted from the older riders, and there were hisses and roars from their dragons. One fire dragon shot a gout of flame at the sky. As the glow faded, Cinder flashed them all a vicious smile.

Most of the tribe dispersed after that, walking with their dragons back to their tents. Ruby was sure Cinder was about to fly off, but she stayed on the platform. Watching them expectantly. She glanced at Yang, who nodded and cracked her knuckles.

They approached Cinder as a group, their dragons crowding in behind them. She waited until they were all there, leaning casually against her fire dragon's shoulder. Emerald and Mercury, by contrast, were tense where they stood on either side of her. Ruby drew in a breath to say something—but before she got a chance, the woman spread her hands wide in invitation.

"So," she said. "I assume you have questions?"