Hello again, and happy Friday! Today we've got Ragnar and Oscar working on their communication skills, and Glacier finding an interesting smell.

40. Seeds of Doubt

The thing about being an ex-White Fang member was that you had a really hard time convincing yourself that you were just being paranoid.

Maybe she was just jumpy because of all the smoke Crucible had caused, but she didn't think so. Raven had decided to move camp again the next morning, even though they'd been planning to stay in one place and take the opportunity to rest, and even Cinder had said that there probably hadn't been anyone around to see it. They were deep in the forest north of Vacuo, and there were enough Grimm in the area that no one lived there. No one had seen a council dragon in days. They were fine.

And yet... she still felt like she was being watched. There hadn't even been a noise, except for the usual night sounds—singing insects, rustling leaves, the occasional owl.

A cool gust of wind ruffled her hair, making the fur on her ears stand on end. The sky was almost cloudless. This far from Vacuo, it looked like there were more stars than there were gaps between them—but in between the trees, even she couldn't see very far.

Her ears strained forward. There was a sense of foreboding, of anticipation. An instant where she was sure someone was about to step forward...

"You're still awake."

She leaped off the log she was sitting on, whirling in midair and staggering as she landed. Weiss was behind her, looking slightly startled. "Are you alright?"

"Fine." Blake glanced back into the woods over her shoulder, but the feeling of anticipation was gone. "Just jumpy. Obviously. What are you doing up?"

"Obsessing. Mind if I join you?"

She smiled. "Please do."

The log wasn't that long, and Blake shifted instinctively to make room. Weiss craned her neck upward. "I'd never seen so many stars before our first night out here."

"They were what I missed most at Beacon."

The silence that followed was pleasant, but Blake was hyperaware of how little space there was. To ease the strange tension she asked, "What about?"

"Hm?"

"You said you were obsessing."

"Right, that. I was thinking about Shade."

"Oh."

"...I ruined the mood, didn't I?"

"No." Another light breeze made Blake shiver and rub her hands together. "I'm the one who asked."

"Yes, well. I'm just thinking myself in circles at this point."

"Yeah. Me too."

"I mean, I know we should be fighting the council. And I certainly don't have any better ideas on how to do it."

"But you still don't like it."

Weiss fell into an uncharacteristic slump, her elbows on her knees. "No."

"Neither do I." The doubt kept niggling at her, no matter how many times she tried to brush it aside. Hell, brushing it aside just made it worse. It was the sort of thing she'd been desperate to ignore in the White Fang. "I think the frustrating thing is that I can't point to what's bothering me. It just feels like Cinder is... too angry. Too focused on punishing the council, rather than protecting the dragons. Like she's in this for revenge first, anything else second."

As she finished, Blake realized that Weiss was staring at her. "What?"

A smirk. "I just think she's a manipulative bitch, but I suppose that works too."

Oscar hitched his pack up his shoulders. His aunt had given to him, after about an hour of trying to convince him not to go. There was food inside, but he hadn't really needed it. Ragnar was good at sniffing out berries and hunting to feed them both. The journey had been much smoother than Oscar had expected—there was only one small problem.

"So... where are we going, exactly?"

"Rrae."

This answer was just as unhelpful as it had been the last few times Oscar had asked. He was sure a real rider would be able to figure it out, but so far he'd only managed to determine that Ragnar was not talking about Raybon, a nearby village, and that he hadn't meant 'hay' or a 'bay.'

"A ray of what?" he asked.

The dragon tilted his head to one side. "Rae. Rroh-guh."

"Sorry. I still don't understand."

A shrug. "Buh-kunn."

"...Bacon?"

Ragnar snorted, and made the low huffing sound Oscar had learned was laughter.

"Oh!" He smacked a hand against his forehead. Obviously Ragnar was talking about the school where he'd spent most of his life. "Beacon?"

"Gud."

"Is that where..." Oscar trailed off, not wanting to hit on an unpleasant memory. Judging by the way Ragnar tensed, he'd failed. "Do you think the students might be there?"

"Nno." Ragnar rumbled uncertainly. Trying to think of a way to communicate what he was thinking to Oscar. "Rae nuh... near."

"I don't understand."

A frustrated snort. "Find... tuh. Truh... aye... buh."

"Um..." Oscar wracked his brain. "You want to find something."

"Rrae. Rrow-guh."

He felt so slow. "Ray... is a rogue?"

"Gud. Go near Buh-kunn. Find Rrae. Find young."

"Ray is near Beacon, and... that's where the students are?"

Ragnar nodded, and licked his forehead. Oscar's hair was sticking up in every direction, and had been for several days now. He grinned. "I got there eventually."

"Scarr gud."

He scratched at the base of Ragnar's neck, feeling the responding purr roll through his entire body. Talking to the old dragon was a slow thing. They hadn't spent their whole lives together, hadn't learned and played and fought together. They didn't understand each other, not yet. But they were getting better.

Notes like clear water, rippling under a layer of ice. For an instant it was so perfect he could see blue eyes peering at him through the hole in the wall—and an echo of sunlight shining through a pair of wings, turning them a pale lavender. Glacier faltered, his ears twitching. Then he huffed in frustration.

"What is that song?" the little one asked. Breathless, like he'd been running, but he'd only been sitting on Glacier's back.

He whistled again, but it was no good. The melody had slipped away. Glacier flicked his tail, uprooting a small bush, and slunk between two trees. He'd been searching a long time now, and he hadn't found either of the small ones. Just deer and rabbits... and sometimes monsters. They were horrible things, but most of them were small and fragile and died when he hit them with his claws.

The small one scratched the back of his neck. He twisted his head around and nuzzled the boy's chest. Good...

Then the wind changed and he stiffened, raising his head and sniffing the air. Not the small Jacques' smell. It smelled like... like...

A silver hatchling with deep blue eyes, tripping over his own tail and pretending it had never happened. He'd belonged to one of the small ones, the steely one. And before that... snow white wings, lavender in the light.

This smell wasn't the same, but he knew instinctively what it was. Dragons. Not like him or Steele or Snowflake. He smelled ash and dirt, salt and clean air. Glacier sprinted towards it, his tongue lolling out of his mouth and his tail wagging. The wind shifted again, carrying the smell away from him, but he kept following.

"Glacier!" the small Jacques yelped. Glacier barked at him, relishing the run, his excitement smothering every other thought. The others had gone away somewhere, and the steely one had come back with a hatchling. Maybe this was where they had gone.

As he ran, his anticipation ebbed. The smell was gone. He breathed in sharp pants. His chest hurt. As hatchlings, he and Snowflake had chased each other around the grounds for hours. There had been an old man with a scarf...

He collapsed onto his belly, breathing hard. Why did it hurt so much, now? He missed the good ache, the deep satisfaction of collapsing in a heap with Snowflake, kicking snow into the air. But the old man had disappeared, and then there were stables and rules and vast white sheets of undisturbed snow. Glacier tossed his head. He kept moving in the same direction, his nose lifted to catch another whiff, but it didn't come. The last day pulled at his thoughts. He tried to sing...

His sister sang in her stall while he sat, enraptured, staring at the gap between door and ceiling. The doors didn't open anymore. Strange smells invaded the barn. Stranger sounds. Loud. Sharp. One of the big needles.

The singing stopped.

"Glacier?"

Hands on his face, drawing it closer. Scratching just above his eyes, under his chin, at the corner of his jaws. Small, gentle hands... but not the ones he wanted. Even this hurt, now.

Glacier snapped up the fuzzy hood, lifting the small Jacques onto his back. His sides were still heaving. He started to run, ignoring the stabbing feeling in his chest. He needed to find the smell. If he found the smell, he would find the small ones. Then it would be better.

Staying hidden wasn't usually difficult for Ilia. Between her natural camouflage and her night vision, she could keep to the darkest shadows and blend in perfectly. She'd learned to stay perfectly still. To focus and keep a handle on herself, so that she didn't change color by accident. But sometimes, the person you were trying to follow was just that alert.

For the fourth time in as many minutes, Blake stiffened, her ears twitching. Ilia had made one misstep, brushing against a few leaves. A light rustling noise that anyone else would have assumed was just the wind. Even now there were other sounds just like it all around her, where birds and small animals were moving around. Blake looked like she was ready for a horde of Grimm to burst out of the undergrowth.

Ilia crouched behind a few bushes. She hardly dared to breathe. It was quiet, and Blake was alone. This would be the perfect time to step out of the shadows and say... what?

Blake started to relax again, though she kept a wary eye on the woods. Dark hair tumbled over her shoulders, ears swiveled to catch every sound, and one knee was drawn up to her chest. It hit Ilia just as hard now as it had the night she'd visited Brand. She watched her watch the stars, her heart beating in her throat.

She wouldn't lie. She couldn't. It was just a matter of how much of the truth she told. And the look on Blake's face as she tilted it back towards the sky... soft. Content.

All of it.

Ilia inhaled sharply. Blake snapped her head back down, scanning the trees with her eyes narrowed. All it would take now was standing up and removing her mask.

In the instant she started to get up, she was sure that Blake knew. Her eyes flickered over the woods, coming to a stop while she was looking almost directly at her. A weight seemed to slip off Ilia's shoulders.

"You're still awake."

Ilia sank back to the ground in an instant with her hand clamped over her own mouth, fighting to keep her skin charcoal grey. A girl dropped down on the other side of the log Blake was sitting on, so that their shoulders were almost touching. The Schnee.

They talked. Ilia stayed frozen in the bush, waiting. Any minute now, Blake would escape the company of the heiress and walk away. Ilia would follow and, when she was alone, she'd explain. And... Blake would too. Whatever else happened, they could finally talk to one another again—even if it was just this once.

They talked about the stars. Ilia glanced up, then quickly looked away.

They talked about Cinder. Ilia smirked, thinking of how livid Sienna would be if she knew how unnecessary the mission was. Then again, it seemed like Blake was right on the edge of abandoning this cause—and she knew from experience that it didn't take much of a nudge, after that.

And finally, they lapsed into silence.

"So." The Schnee sat up a little straighter. "What do we do?"

"I don't know."

"Helpful."

Blake smiled and lightly elbowed her arm. "Why are you asking me?" The smile faded. "I'm not very good at choosing sides." Ilia gritted her teeth.

"What are you talking about?"

"Um... you do remember that, historically—"

"Yes, I remember, thank you. When..." She glanced around, then continued, choosing her words carefully. "When a situation like this came up before, you made the right choice. Why wouldn't I want your opinion right now?"

"Oh. Thank you?" Blake shifted on the log. "I'd like to hear your opinion, too."

A scoff. "You thought that was optional?"

There was a smile in Blake's voice as she said, "I was trying to be polite."

"Were you? Or were you dodging the question?"

"...Dodging." Blake leaned back, taking another long look at the stars. "I think... there are things that feel familiar. But it's too early to tell. So... we keep our eyes open. Talk as much as we can."

"Obviously."

Ilia bristled at her tone, but Blake just chuckled. "Yeah, well... it's good to have the option." She shrugged, trying for nonchalance... but the way her shoulders curled inward told a different story. "I think part of the reason things got so bad last time was that I didn't talk to anyone. I couldn't talk to anyone."

Blake...

"Blake..."

Damn it!

"There was no way of knowing who might say something to him, so I just... didn't talk about it. For all I know half of them wanted out but were too afraid to say anything."

You could have talked to me!

"You did everything you could."

"But I didn't!" Blake shot to her feet, pacing back and forth. "I got scared and I ran away. I know I couldn't have changed his mind, but I never even tried to help anyone else! And now Ilia is still mixed up with them, and Brand was stuck with him for almost a year, and—"

"Blake, stop."

"—And now you're asking me for advice like I haven't messed it up every time—"

"Stop." The Schnee grabbed Blake by the shoulders. "You're spiraling."

Silence, except for Blake's harsh breathing. Ilia's fingernails bit into her palms.

"Things are different this time. You're not alone."

"Yeah. I know." A shaky sigh. "That was what I was trying to say. I feel like last time it was just me making all the decisions, and I... well, I fucked it up."

"Seriously. Stop that."

"Why? It's the truth."

One hand came down on Blake's upper arm. Ilia felt like ants were crawling under her skin as it itched to turn a vibrant green.

"You keep doubting yourself. You're..." She paused, as if struggling to get the words out. "You're a good person. You're smart, and you have good instincts. And yes, you can still make mistakes, but it's dangerous to believe someone else's opinion is always better than your own." She glanced at the ground. "People take advantage."

"It's also dangerous to ignore everyone else when they're telling you that you're wrong."

"Then why do you keep ignoring your friends when we tell you it wasn't your fault?" She waved a hand. "Never mind. That's not my point, anyway. I trust... your judgment. And I hope you'll try to trust it, too."

Blake made a few jumbled attempts to respond. Then, finally, "I trust your judgment too."

The Schnee stood up abruptly and backed up a step. "I'm going to bed. We'll keep talking about what we're doing. All of us."

"Okay? Weiss, what—"

"Good!" She broke into a full retreat, while Blake watched with her back to Ilia.

When, several minutes later, she turned towards the forest again, there was a bemused look on her face. She was finally alone... and Ilia finally knew what to say.

"Blake."

Instantly she was tensed, her ears pinned back, a hand in her pocket. Going for her scroll.

"Wait!" Ilia hissed. "It's just me!" She turned a soothing blue as she stepped out from behind her bush. "I need to talk to you."

Blake glanced over her shoulder, then followed her further into the trees. "How much of that did you hear?"

In her pocket, her hand clenched into a fist. "Hear what? You were just standing there."

"Oh." Blake's shoulders slumped in relief. "Then... what is it?"

"A trade." Ilia folded her arms across her chest. "I have information I can give you, but first... I want to know why you left."

She stiffened. "I couldn't do it anymore. I couldn't keep hurting dragons, and... wait, how did you even find us?!"

"I'll tell you if you answer my question." Unbidden, she felt her skin turn orange.

"I did."

"It wasn't just about the dragons—don't lie, I know Adam had something to do with it." She breathed in. "But what I really want to know is... why didn't you talk to me, first?"

Blake's eyes widened. "Ilia, if you're having second thoughts—"

"Answer the question!"

"...I was scared."

"Of me?" Ilia spread her hands. "Blake, I'd never—"

"I know you wouldn't. Not on purpose. But..." She hunched her shoulders. "You didn't exactly know... how he could get."

A rock dropped into the pit of her stomach.

"I didn't tell you. I didn't tell anyone. I didn't know what would happen if someone told him, or just mentioned something where he could hear."

A tungsten chain.

"Did you kill him?"

Blake recoiled. "What? No!" She squeezed her eyes shut. "No. He showed up at Beacon. Threatened me, and... a friend of mine. The dragons protected us."

"...Okay." Ilia nodded slowly. "I think I understand."

"You do?" A hopeful look dawned on Blake's face. Ilia felt sick.

"You were scared. You didn't think you could trust anyone."

"I've been trying to work on that."

I noticed.

"Fine." Ilia turned her head, so that she was staring at the trunk of a tree instead. "Hazel's been traveling with us. You remember him?"

"He sat with Brand."

"Yeah. I overheard him on the phone. He screwed up, dropped a name."

"Cinder," Blake spat, like it was a curse.

"How'd you know?"

She grimaced. "A bad feeling." Then, her expression turned horrified. "Did she tell you where to find us?"

"Sienna is getting updates from Cinder. Nothing specific, just the general area. Once I was close I just waited until I saw pit dragons."

"Sienna?" She had been a friend of Blake's parents before the Fang changed leadership. She'd liked her, too.

"Someone had to step up, with him gone."

Blake glanced over her shoulder again. Probably itching to share the news with her friends. "Look, Ilia, if you—"

"Save it." Ilia backed up a few paces, blending into the trees. "I'm here because... because I owe you. But I'm not leaving the Fang."

"Wait!"

She dashed away. Blake tried to follow, but before long it got too dark for even a faunus to see very well, and she lost track of her. Ilia stayed perched in a tree for several minutes, until Blake eventually gave up and walked back towards the camp.

It was the truth. Not all of it, no... but the whole story was something you told the ones you trusted. Ilia had Justice. That would have to be enough.

Random headcanon: Ilia didn't naturally have a 'default' color scheme. When she was a kid she'd be constantly shifting to show emotion, or to mimic whatever she was looking at. But after she started passing as human and had to stick to one pattern all the time, she got used to it and started to stay like that.