Disaster didn't strike during the day, and with Branwen's guidance Blake was able to clumsily drive the car to the next settlement. It helped that the road was really more of a rough track snaking between the hills, so Blake didn't have to worry about traffic, and didn't do much other than steer around potholes and keep driving at her own pace. Her own pace turned out to be quite slow, and what would normally have been a half day of travelling became an all day affair. The sun was just barely above the horizon when she rolled into town.
Despite all that, the journey was actually fairly stressful for the inexperienced driver and relief washed over Blake as she finally stepped out of the vehicle into the motel carpark.
"I don't recommend driving much further," Branwen warned, perched atop Blake's shoulder. "In the morning, sell the car and get a lift from someone else. A thirteen year old travelling alone out here is sure to draw attention."
"Do I really need to worry about that?"
"That's a stolen car and you're an escaped slave, Chief." Branwen warned. "The absolute last thing we want is bounty hunters coming for us."
When the bird was right, she was right. Not to mention the four bodies she left behind, though she was sure the villagers would bury those so they could keep their new slaves, which Blake guessed were also stolen property in the eyes of the law.
Inside, she found the reception was small and smelled of old carpet. The desk fan in the corner of the room was a poor substitute for air conditioning, and sweat beaded on the forehead of the lady behind the desk, who gave Blake a suspicious look when she came in, gaze lingering on her upper ears.
"Are there any rooms for the night?" Blake asked, too exhausted to be offended.
The woman nodded once. "One thousand a night."
That was expensive. "Do you at least have hot water?"
"Of course." She answered with a scowl, almost like she was offended that someone would dare to ask.
"Great customer service," Blake muttered, resentfully tugging a note free from her wad of cash and handing it over.
"Where'd you get all that money?" The woman demanded, eyeing up the bundle.
"Selling slaves," Blake answered honestly, and held out her hand. "Keys."
She slapped them down into Blake's palm hard enough that it stung slightly, and watched her the whole way as Blake made her way to the room.
"Just leave straight out the back door," Branwen instructed. "She's going to call the sheriff on you."
Blake groaned. "Really?"
"Yes." Branwen answered, sounding just as frustrated as Blake felt. "If you end up breaking out of a jail and killing the sheriff, it won't just be bounty hunters, but actual hunters chasing you. It's too risky to stay here now."
It was hard to argue against that. Blake used her aura to smash the lock on the back door and sneak out to the car.
After that she skipped town directly, leaving behind only the room keys and a trail of dust.
A day later at the next town, Blake tried a different strategy. She parked the car a distance away, and wrapped a shirt around her head as improvised protection against the sun, but mainly to hide her ears. It was a half hour walking under the heat to get there, but it was worth it to avoid another night in the car. The only protection she had from creatures of grimm while sleeping was the watchful eyes of Branwen.
She staggered into town like she'd been walking for hours, and quickly bought a hat and some supplies with no questions asked. The general store owner had looked at her like she was just a dumb city slicker who hadn't planned ahead, and told her where she could buy fuel.
Following that routine, Blake and Branwen finally arrived at a decent sized town with a train station after three more days. At that point Blake had burned through more than half the money she had left, and the cost of a train ticket wasn't cheap. With all the work it took to construct a set of tracks through potentially Grimm infested wilderness, and not to mention the security costs of maintaining them once they were built, travelling long distances was well outside the price range of most people in Mistral, let alone a homeless teenager like Blake.
"Don't worry, this won't be a problem," Raven assured her. "With my semblance you'll be able to circumvent the train fair entirely."
"How does it work exactly?" Blake asked, packing the things she could carry into a large duffel bag she bought a few towns back. "You only really gave me the short version earlier."
"You can create a connection between yourself and someone else, which allows you to open a portal to their location whenever you want."
Blake nodded at that, securing the knives and pistols underneath her jacket, before finally slamming the car boot shut and adjusting her straw hat.
"She's all yours." She held the car keys out to a man with black grease on his hands and a dark skinned complexion. He took them from her and handed over a small stack of notes, which Blake pocketed with a murmured thanks and strolled away.
Situated right on the edge of town, the scrap yard was full of the rusting hulks of dead machines. There were as many tractors and lawn mowers turning reddy brown under the sun as there were cars and trucks. There was even a train carriage to one side, with ominous looking slashes having torn it open.
"It's a shame that I lost my connections when I died." Raven sounded quite annoyed. "This would make our lives much easier. For now you can just mark someone who's riding the train to Mistral, and join them there yourself when they arrive in a week's time."
"That means I'll have to stay here, though." Blake grumbled as she passed out of the yard and onto the street. In the end she supposed it would be cheaper than the train ticket, but she wasn't sure she had enough for a week in a hotel room.
"Don't worry." Raven assured her. "There's bound to be some kind of work in town for you."
Waiting tables at the local watering hole wasn't quite what Blake had in mind, and it was far from a pleasant experience, but the hourly rate they paid was enough that when combined with the amount left from selling the weapons, that it should just barely get her to the end of the week with a little left over.
Hotels were expensive, though. Where was she going to stay when she finally arrived at the City of Mistral itself? A question for another time. The first shift was a little hairy for Blake, who'd never worked a day before and had no idea how to deal with drunkards. Luckily enough, Blake was apparently too young for most men to consider a sexual target, and generally the customers weren't too handsy with her unless they were intoxicated to the point of not being able to see straight.
The hotel room was small, but clean with running water, and at this stage in her life that seemed like a luxury Blake had nearly forgotten. How long ago was that? Everytime she thought back, all she could remember was the echo of her voice screaming 'coward' at her father. Just the thought of that fight was enough to bring bitter tears to her eyes, and she swallowed, shaking her head under the hot shower to disperse the memory, before stepping out and toweling herself dry.
"Is something wrong?" Branwen asked from the bed, not quite sounding emotionally concerned as much as she was worried her car might break down.
"I'm fine." Blake hurriedly turned to the mirror, only to see her face was being watched through the reflection. "What?" she demanded.
The raven turned away and began preening its feathers.
After drying off and wrapping her hair up, Blake brushed her teeth with the cheap toothpaste and disposable brush provided by the hotel, then came over to lay in bed. Back in Kuo Kuana this would have been the time she broke out a volume of one of her teen romances before sleep, but not only did she lack a book, she felt faintly embarrassed thinking that Branwen might see it.
"Where are we going?" Blake asked after a while. "I mean after we've arrived at Mistral."
Branwen paused before answering, "You wish to purge the White Fang and restore Menagerie to the Belladonna Dynasty."
Somehow, Blake didn't find that the most flattering description, but she nodded her head.
"The way I see it, as you are now you're incapable of fulfilling either goal. There are hunters and huntresses among the White Fang who are too dangerous for you to face," Raven explained. "Which means for now, your first priority should be to grow stronger, and to make powerful allies."
It took a minute for Blake to digest those words, then she nodded once in agreement.
"This is where our ambitions align." Branwen hesitated, before explaining, "Before I died, I made a grave mistake, and may have accidentally put my daughter in a great deal of danger."
It took Blake a second to recall that Branwen wasn't always a magical talking bird, but once a living person.
"My daughter, Yang, is being raised by her father in the Kingdom of Vale, specifically a small island community called Patch." A hint of wistfulness entered her voice. "Given that both her mother and father were graduates of Beacon Academy, I think I know where she's going and what career she will choose."
"You want me to enroll in Beacon."
"And Signal Academy, which is where her father teaches a combat school."
"..." Blake chewed her lip. It did sound reasonable, and it was what she had promised Raven. "That's very far away," she pointed out.
"It is," agreed Raven.
"I'm going to need a lot of money for the tuition fee. I'm going to need a lot of money just to get to the continent."
"I can teach you a lot about being a huntress in the meantime, and I have... contacts that you can use to get by," Branwen explained. "Once Yang graduates at eighteen, then you can leave her side. She'll be an adult, and it will no longer be my place to look out for her."
"Alright." Blake breathed out, and rolled over so she was laying flat on her back. "Signal, then Beacon."
"Then Menagerie and the White Fang." Branwen agreed.
With a plan for the future, Blake slept easier that night.
It was midnight when Blake stepped through her portal. One moment she was in her hotel room, the next she was in the bedroom of a married couple. The human man she'd marked with Branwen's semblance was laying in bed, cuddled up with his wife and both were snoozing peacefully.
With practiced grace, Blake crept past them and out the door. Her eyes were well suited to picking a path through the dimly lit halls of this family's home. Neither the eldest son snoring with his door open or either of his twin sisters in their pink heart patterned sheets had any idea Blake was there.
"This is why everyone should keep a dog," commented Raven, though only Blake heard it and she strongly disagreed.
The house's front door unlocked from the inside without any trouble, and Blake stepped out onto the street into a chilly breeze that raised the hairs on the back of her neck.
"Welcome to the City of Mistral," Raven said, dryly.
The city was built fairly high up, only a little below the snow line. The cliffs and peaks visible even at night under the glowing city lights were an obvious and fearsome natural defence, and a huge part of the reason the city was so large. Compared to the costly and difficult work of building giant walls like Vale's, the people of Mistral had little to fear from the Grim, and were able to expand their home city simply by building wherever there was room. Sometimes they made room by building on stilts right up against the mountainside, but even that was much easier than trying to pacify a whole new stretch of grim infected land.
The street was obviously middle class, with tightly packed two story houses on all sides and small yards out front of each suburban home. It struck Blake as a nice place to live.
"Looks like we're in the upper city." Raven commented. "I never had any reason to visit this part of town. All my contacts are in the lower city."
Blake nodded, and rubbed her hands together. To suddenly travel from the desert to here only made the drop in temperature that much worse. She quickly pulled a warm coat from her duffel bag and tugged it on, though she wished it had a hood to protect her cheeks and ears from the wind.
"I'll fly overhead, see if I can spot anywhere familiar," said the raven before taking off.
Following Branwen's directions, Blake spent an hour walking downhill, noticing the houses change to larger buildings of business and small apartments. Even at this time of night, there was a surprising amount of traffic on the streets. Despite the cold weather there were still people at the bars and dance clubs, with uniformed lawmen mixed in. Blake wasn't even the only young teen around, but she suspected the others were all prostitutes if she understood what the flower baskets they carried meant.
Eventually the police presence disappeared, and Blake found herself surrounded by tall buildings on all sides, and no longer walking downhill. At last she'd arrived at the bottom of Mistral.
Branwen landed on Blake's shoulder and pointed with her beak. "That bar across the street is home to one of my old contacts."
The bar in question absolutely screamed of ill deeds. Not only was it still open at this hour, but Blake could clearly smell blood, alongside spilled alcohol and bile that never quite washed away.
"What does your old contact do exactly?" Blake murmured.
"She's the head of a mid sized crime family and is involved in extortion, information, prostitution, human trafficking, drugs, and protection rackets. Very normal," Raven explained. "Her name is Miss Malachite. Be respectful, even if she is filth."
"Great." Blake muttered. "You know I've already been sold once, right?"
"No you haven't, thanks to me," Raven countered.
"...Fair point."
"Introduce yourself as Raven Branwen's Apprentice."
Blake blinked in surprise. "'Raven Branwen?'"
The bird shot her a stink eye. "Yes."
"Is… is that really your name?"
"...Yes." The raven named Raven admitted, sounding annoyed. "What of it?"
"Nothing, it's just kind of a fantastic coincidence given-"
"I know. Now stop wasting time."
The smell of the bar was stronger on the inside, and people eyed Blake up openly as she brushed aside the curtains and stepped across the threshold. It was worse than that, actually. After just a few seconds of silence, most of the people sitting nearby stopped their conversation to stare at her openly.
"You lost, little girl?" a man demanded with a sneer. "Looking for your Daddy?"
"There, the large blonde woman in the corner." Raven pointed with a wing, and Blake followed the directions to a person who fit that description perfectly.
Greedy eyes met Blake's from across the room, seemingly amused by the presence of the young teen in her bar. The bright blush and lipstick she wore did little to disguise her unhealthily pale skin, and she would have had a long thin mono brow if she hadn't shaved it into two just above the bridge of her nose.
Blake went to take a step towards her, when Raven spoke up. "Don't approach the King on his throne. Wait for an invitation."
With one foot just about to leave the ground, Blake hesitated, awkwardly frozen like she'd been caught doing something she shouldn't.
Miss Malachite snickered, and languidly crooked a finger at Blake, giving her permission to approach.
The other men at the table didn't seem to take Blake very seriously, either. They sneered openly at the teenager as she crossed the floor towards them.
"Who're you looking for, Darling?"
Blake was surprised at the woman's accent. It sounded less Mistralian and more like countryside Vale. "Miss Malachite." Blake ducked her head respectfully.
The woman's eye twitched. "Lil' Miss Malachite." She corrected, and frowned at Blake. "Got it? Lil."
"Very little." Blake quickly agreed.
Malachite laughed. "What brings you here, cutie? Lookin' for work? I can always use more pretty lil' girls."
Blake couldn't disguise her grimace. "Yes, but not that kind of work."
"Oh?" She leaned back in her chair which creaked loudly under her weight. Why a woman of her size thought it was a good idea to wear a low cut top, Blake had no idea. "I don't think I got any other kind for you."
"Raven Branwen sent me."
One side of the woman's eyebrow shot up and all the men at the table stiffened, looking more alert. "Really? Ain't heard from her in a while, what does she want and what's it got to do with you?"
"I'm her apprentice." Blake explained. "And I need money."
Malachite frowned at that. "I didn't think she was the teaching type."
"She's really not," Blake agreed, and Raven swatted her ear with a wing.
"Well, I can only imagine one thing she was teaching you." Malachite shot Blake a calculating look. "You any good?"
"I am." Blake quickly feigned confidence, but internally couldn't think of herself that way.
After a long pause, Malachite waved a hand at someone near the door. A tall, thick shouldered man with a shaved head approached the table and bent down so Malachite could whisper in his ear. He glanced at Blake, then whispered something back. After a moment she nodded and he walked away.
"Sorry, girlie." She shrugged helplessly. "I got all the muscle I need right now."
"It doesn't have to be that kind of work." Blake quickly said.
"You think you can work sales?"
After a moment Blake shook her head.
"What about digging up secrets? No? You wanna shake down the shops? Didn't think so." Lil' Miss Malachite sneered. "Hell, the only reason I'm still even talking to you is cause I know Raven. If you ain't willing to work, go find somewhere else." She waved a hand dismissively.
"Bad luck." Raven sighed as Blake headed for the door. "There are other places we can try."
For some reason, Blake wasn't feeling so optimistic.
By the time the sun rose, Blake was filthy with mud and chilled to the bone. Just before dawn a light drizzle had begun, and without shelter had soaked straight through her coat and even into her socks. That was miserable in and of itself, but not a single one of Raven's contacts had been willing to employ a homeless, filthy thirteen year old with a foreign accent for anything but prostitution. Blake had spent the entire night walking through the filthy streets of the city bottom with nothing to show for it at all.
"You'll just have to take a break, and try again later," encouraged Raven. "It's about time for breakfast anyw-"
Just the word was enough to make Blake's belly growl. Or more accurately, roar loud enough that it frightened passing strangers into searching around in confusion for Grimm.
Silence hung in the air and from the corner of her eye, Blake saw Raven sitting there with her feathers ruffled and puffed out in shock. She looked like nothing more than a fluffy black feather duster.
"I'm hungry." Blake mumbled with a fresh pink dusting on her cheeks.
"I… see." Raven quickly began preening her feathers back into their usual well groomed state. "Of course. That makes sense."
"Yes."
Both of them were happy not to speak about it again.
This far from the coast and especially at this time of the morning, Blake had little hope of finding any fish. That was fine, really. Her entire family had a strong preference for meat in their diets, but with how desperately hungry she was she might even settle for something as bland and unappetising as a plate of steamed vegetables. Luckily it didn't come to that.
Despite the time of day, Blake soon smelled roasting flesh in the air and her mouth immediately watered. Beef wasn't her favourite meat, but right now it smelled nicer than it ever had before. Her nose led her down an alleyway to where she could hear the sounds of a knife on a cutting board, and saw just the very top of a puffy white chef's hat through a small window that was a good two metres from the ground, well above her head. With a quick little aura enhanced jump, she was able to grab onto the window sill, and pull herself up to look.
Inside she saw a man in an apron expertly cutting up carrots and leeks, while a pot of stew bubbled pleasantly on the stove. Looking around the room Blake could see all kinds of dishes in early stages of preparation, meaning this was probably a restaurant of some kind.
"Hey, get down from there!" The man in the apron barked suddenly, catching Blake's reflection on the back of his steel soup ladle. He turned to face her, scowling. "You better not be going through the garbage!"
"I have money!" Blake quickly replied. "Are you open yet?"
The man fixed his gaze on her for a long time, scowling before answering. "If you're a customer, come through the front door. Only thieves come by the window."
"Sorry." Blake dropped down, hurrying out the alley to the front of the building. It was plain undecorated brick, with the ground floor being the business with multiple levels of apartments on top of it. On the front there was a sign that Blake read aloud. "Bar. Restaurant. Tournaments." When she stepped inside she found multiple television screens on every wall though they were all currently turned off.
"I've been to one of these before in Vale," dismissed Raven. "They play competitions while serving alcohol and food. I'm surprised to see one in Mistral."
"What the hell are you doing?" The same cook from earlier demanded, and Blake nearly jumped at his voice.
She turned to find a heavy set forty something year old man scowling at her from behind the bar. He was tall and broad shouldered, the roots of his hair were slightly grey, and his eyes were narrowed disapprovingly at the vagrant teen.
"You said I could come in." Blake answered, confused.
"I didn't say your mud could!" The man pointed a finger behind her, and Blake followed it to see a trail of brown wet shoe prints coming straight indoors.
"S-sorry." She immediately apologised, her upper ears flattening invisibly under her hat.
He glared at her for a long moment, before taking out his notepad and pen. "What do you want?"
Feeling slightly lost by the sudden jump in topic, Blake quickly answered. "Just a steak sandwich?"
He looked back up at her with annoyance. "I'm firing up the grill for you, you know."
"Uh, a salmon steak, some bacon, and some salad." She added.
He huffed and wrote it down before pointing with his pen. "Mop's there. There's a sink in the baby room. Clean yourself up, then clean up your mess." He fixed her with another look. "Got it?"
"Uh, yes." She quickly nodded.
"Food will be ready in ten minutes." He turned and shoved the kitchen door open, disappearing inside.
The shower didn't have any shampoo or conditioner, so Blake decided to keep her hair dry rather than risk damaging it. She had to use the soap dispenser above the sink to wash her body and shoes, before quickly drying everything by holding it up in front of the hand dryer. When she emerged she wasn't exactly much cleaner, but at least she wasn't still tracking mud everywhere.
"You still stink." The chef commented when he emerged from the kitchen, two steaming plates in hand. He placed them in front of Blake along with a knife and fork. This was hardly traditional Mistralian food, so Blake supposed the Valish dinnerware was more fitting than chopsticks.
"Sorry."
"And take that off when you're inside." He added, pointedly glaring at her straw hat.
Afraid of being kicked out, Blake hesitated before taking it off, her ears flattened nervously against the top of her head.
The man's scowl only deepened at the sight, and for a moment Blake thought he was going to throw her out. "...I'm gonna have a cigarette. Don't you dare try and steal anything, I know what I own."
Blake quickly nodded and tucked in. The food was sensuous, seasoned to absolute perfection by hunger. Despite the large order Blake had no trouble finishing it all off. Even the salad which she usually left over was finished without a scrap of green remaining in the bowl.
Eventually he came back inside, looking her up and down without saying anything.
Blake quickly stood up. "Do you want me to clean my dishes?"
"What? No." He looked offended that she even asked. "Just pay for the meal and go."
Oh, right. After seeing the bill, Blake quickly counted out the notes and handed them to the chef who counted them himself before going away to add it to the register.
"Uh, thanks for the meal," Blake said to him on the way out the door, and only received a grunt in acknowledgement.
"The customer service leaves something to be desired," commented Raven. "But it could have been worse."
She was right, but it still hurt to be treated so harshly just because she was a faunus. Blake had spent most of her life in Menagerie among other faunus, but she wasn't entirely unfamiliar with being scorned like that despite it. She'd experienced cold abuse like that not just from humans when she first came to the continent, but also other faunus back in her hometown. Even before the coup, Sienna Kahn had her agents and mouths working amongst the populace, whispering lies about the Belladonnas. Blake couldn't even count the number of times she'd been called a human loving schill behind her back.
With a sigh, Blake returned the hat to her head and went to walk away, only glancing back at the bar and restaurant when something caught her eye. There in the window was taped up a small A4 sheet of paper with the words printed on it, 'HELP WANTED! Ask for details inside.'
"I know a few more people on the other side of town who might be willing to hire you." Raven told her. "After that, well, we can look at some more desperate options."
No. Blake had had more than enough walking for one day, and immediately turned around and went back inside. "Are you hiring?"
He looked up at her. "...Do you have a resume?"
Swallowing, Blake shook her head.
After a long moment of silence he breathed out through his nose. "Be back here before one, in clean clothes and not smelling like rain. If you're late, don't bother showing up, yeah?"
Relief washed over her and she nodded, smiling for the first time in days.
"I can give you fifty an hour, plus tip for the first night. If you're worth more than that we can talk about it tomorrow."
"Thank you."
"And for god's sake, find something other than a hat to cover those ears." He added, before dismissing her with a flick of his wrist.
"No problem, thank you!" Blake closed the door and nearly skipped up the stairs with joy.
"A waitress's salary isn't going to pay for your tuition." Raven warned. "Or even the ferry to Patch."
"I know, but it might put a roof over my head tonight." Blake countered. "Which isn't much, but it's a start."
The work wasn't too hard, nor was finding a public bath house and a laundromat to clean up at. There was another waitress who worked there, an eighteen year old girl in her final year of highschool, so there was someone friendlier than the owner to show Blake the ropes. After memorising the menu and where everything was in the bar, they were able to talk for a little while once there were only a few customers in the store.
"Don't mind the owner, he's just an asshole," The girl explained while folding up a pile of napkins. She was very short, just an inch above five feet with curly brown hair that hung below her shoulders, and a slightly distended canine tooth that was fitting when paired with her name, Fang. It was actually a traditional Mistralian name, pronounced more like 'Fung', but Blake couldn't help but be amused by its double meaning in Valish. "Don't try to hide any mistakes from him either, though, he's fired lots of waiters and waitresses before, mostly just for lying to him. As long as you learn from your mistakes he'll leave you alone."
Blake humed with interest, but was focused mostly on turning on the various screens throughout the bar, and turning them to the right channel in accordance with the schedule she'd been shown. All sorts of ball games and a few professional fights were being played in different booths. Raven took a surprising interest in the games, and rather than follow Blake around was currently watching a fighting tournament in one of the booths.
"Are you okay with serving alcohol?" asked Fang, and Blake nodded. "Good, the city inspectors basically never come around here anyway."
The night went by quickly in a rush of orders delivered to tables and quickly cleaned messes. There was a division in the restaurant between the backroom club with the bar and the front facing restaurants and tables; Blake worked both over the course of the night. The newly purchased ribbon on her head was enough to hide her identity as a faunus, and not once during the night did anyone treat her with any amount of suspicion.
After ten the restaurant was closed, and the bar followed an hour later at eleven. Blake and Fang cleaned up, before splitting the tip jar between them and going home for the night. For Blake, 'home' meant a nearby bubble hotel, where the rooms were barely five feet wide and it honestly felt like sleeping in a drawer. They didn't have running water, and the walls were so thin she could easily hear the snores of other people staying there.
"I think I know how we can make money." Raven told Blake while she was lying in bed. "Are you aware that there are combat tournaments for people your age group, the under fourteens division?"
Blake shook her head, not wanting to speak aloud lest she wake up one of her neighbours.
"With some training I think you'll be able to compete locally, though we'll have to make some inquiries in the morning. Without a guardian I doubt you'll be able to compete in an official tournament, but at the very least it should be good to start practicing for now. Speaking of which, set your alarm for five am. Tomorrow, we'll begin your sword training."
The revolvers and rifles from the slavers had been sold several towns ago, but the knives were still at hand, though Raven was dismissive of them. The martial style that Raven practiced turned out to be Iado, which was what Blake had learned from Adam. The only weapon close enough to a katana that they could practice with, while still being in Blake's price range was a bokken, a kind of wooden sword.
"You know the basics, then." Raven sounded pleased. "A thousand strikes in each of the primary stances every morning for a week to knock the rust off, and we can begin looking for a fight for you."
"That's going to take hours." Blake grumbled, but obediently took up the first stance.
"I doubt you have anywhere better to be," Raven scoffed. "And this isn't even brushing the surface of the amount of work it will take to become a huntress."
That was true, Blake knew that, but she would still much rather read a book in the morning, or even just some trashy fanfiction on her phone. Not that she had one of those. Maybe that was another thing it would be worth saving up for.
One of Raven's contacts finally proved useful, and Blake had her first fight. Without a manager or a guardian, her only choice ended up being an underground venue that smelled mostly of dog faeces and blood. She couldn't help but suspect the ring she was fighting in tonight usually hosted a different species of combatant.
Her opponent was another teenager, though he was a good three years older as well as a full head taller than Blake. Without knowing anything about him, she could only hope that he wasn't a student at the nearby Haven Academy, or she would find herself very badly outclassed. Stomach fluttering, Blake bent her knees slightly, hand on the hilt of her wooden sword which suddenly felt woefully inadequate compared to his two small axes.
The fight began with a scantily clad woman dropping a red handkerchief, and the boy wasted no time closing the distance with Blake. He charged and spun, twisting his axe around to bring it into the face of one of Blake's clones rather than her, and the tip of her sword whipped through the dispersing semblance to catch him directly in the face. His aura flared a deep forest green, and he backed away a step surprised. Without the confidence to go toe to toe with the weapon she had, Blake didn't want to risk pressing the advantage.
The watching crowd roared as the teens circled each other, before he charged forward again and swung with both weapons from two different angles. Blake dodged one and deflected the other, then tried to step out of reach of his follow up, but his longer legs meant he could keep pace with her movements easily. Her dodge didn't take her out of range of his attack and his axe blow caught her in the face. Aura protected her, and she quickly had to step forward into his reach before he could do more damage, battering him lightly with her sword and not doing much to hurt him. Frustrated, he swung his axe upwards at her belly and seeing a chance she blocked the attack with the flat of her sword. There was a thunk sound as the head of his weapon was caught in the side of hers, and with a twist of her wrist she yanked the axe from his grasp and flicked it away.
He scowled briefly, before smirking as he had an idea, and swung heavily at Blake's exposed weapon, aura flaring brightly. Unsure what he was doing until it was too late, she could only hiss with fury as an entire night's worth of pay was snapped in half and sent spinning in two different directions.
Utterly enraged, she caught the broken off tip of her bokken with one hand before it landed, and rammed the jagged, shattered end of it into his neck like a shank. He yelped in surprise, bringing his axe up to block her next attack, but not catching the next strike from Blake where she used the hilt of her weapon like a knife and stabbed at his ribs. The savagery of her assault stunned him, and she put her foot on top of his toes to pin him in place even as he tried to back away a step. Seeing the chance, Blake rammed both of her improvised knives into his exposed thigh.
His aura bent and stretched before breaking, and he yelled in pain as Blake finally drew blood through the fabric of his pants.
The crowd roared with excitement, and the fight was over. The taste of victory was short lived, when Blake learned her payout was only going to end up being the same as a night's work at the restaurant.
Raven's consolation didn't help much. "At least you learned to bring two bokken to the next fight."