Chapter Five: Memories

"What am I going to need?" Oscar asked, sitting on his bed cross-legged. After cleaning his clothes, he had hung them to dry on the ladder and retreated to his room to pack. An olive-green backpack lay empty and discarded at his side, stitched on patches dotted across its surface.

"It will be a long journey. Take what matters to you but be aware - you will want to carry as little as possible."

Oscar fiddled with one of the faded leather straps on his backpack. "I don't really have much, except my books, and I can't take all of them." He sighed and stood up.

"You could choose your favourite?" Ozpin suggested.

The corner of Oscar's mouth turned up in a half smile. He knelt on the floor, studying the row of books on his shelf. One stood out to him - a small, leather bound novel with torn edges and faded pages. Carefully, he picked it up, gazing softly at the words inscribed on its cover. "This one." He said quietly.

"May I ask why?" Ozpin said, curious.

"It was my mother's." Oscar said simply, turning to the first page. A photograph lay there, tucked under a sewn-in ribbon bookmark. In it, three young adults stood, evening light tinting their features orange. Behind them, a forest was half silhouetted against a rust red sky.

"There she is." Oscar pointed to the young woman on the left. She was dressed in short forest green tunic, scuffed black trousers and a faded grey cloak - the long knife at her belt marked her as a huntress. A bright smile lit up the woman's face, her hazel eyes glittering. Short, rosewood coloured hair poked out from underneath the faded cap she wore at an angle. Thin scars like claw marks ran across her cheek. She wore them like a medal.

"You look a great deal like her." Ozpin said softly.

"Yeah." Oscar smiled sadly, running his finger gently across the photograph. "She was a huntress. I wanted to follow in her footsteps. I still do, I think."

"You don't sound sure."

"I'm not. Everything's been so crazy, I don't know what's going to happen." Oscar frowned.

There was a moment of silence before Ozpin changed the subject. "Is that your aunt and uncle in the photograph?"

"Oh, yeah it is." Oscar said, looking down at the picture. In the middle stood a shorter woman with an ecstatic expression. The two women were similar in looks, both with lightly tanned skin and freckles like specks of paint dotting their faces. On the right, a man stood, towering over the other two adults. His smooth, angular face was set in a broad smile and he held his shoulders high. One arm was draped loosely around the shoulders of the woman in the middle. She held his hand tightly.

"It was taken just after Carol and Dean got married." Oscar said with a small smile. "Carol told me that my mom was so happy, she was almost more excited than they were." He let out a shaky breath and stood up, slipping the photograph back into the book. Opening the backpack he'd left on the bed, he tucked the book away into the deepest pocket.

"What else do I need?" He asked, getting up. As he did, he tripped over the edge of the rug and ended up sprawled on the floor.

"May I suggest a first aid kit?" Ozpin said, his cool tone failing to mask his amusement.

"Very funny Oz." Oscar said dryly, spitting out bits of fluff. "There's one under my bed but it doesn't have much in it."

"What about the one in the kitchen?" Ozpin said hesitantly.

Oscar sighed and rolled over. "I really don't want to get hit again." He stared at the ceiling, watching a small spider trying and failing to spin a web.

Ozpin remained silent. Sighing again, Oscar pushed himself up onto his knees.

"I'll check if anyone's in the kitchen. If not, I should be able to grab some supplies and get out without being caught." He stood up and walked towards the door. Gathering the necessary courage, he opened it and climbed down the ladder.