Hey there! I hope you wonderful folks like longer chapters. And a wee bit of overdue worldbuilding because uh, that's what you're getting.
And on an unrelated, and far more serious note, please remember to be excellent to one another. There's a lot going in the world right now that kinda sucks, the US especially. It doesn't matter how you look or what your creed or orientation is. We're all people. Be kind to one another, will you? A little love goes a long way, friends!
Raven presided over them with a grim satisfaction even as she scowled, arms crossed, removed from the rest of them. Had her story - the revelation of Summer Rose's involvement and her own past - earned her any sympathy? Not from Yang who continued to glower at the woman in the dim room, fervently scratching her blackened arm, leg bouncing as Ruby rubbed her sister's back to soothe her. Not from her brother either as Qrow had risen from his seat, staring down his sibling with a mask of barely restrained disdain.
"So," the bandit repeated. "Any questions?"
Qrow was the first to speak, having been antsier than Yang. "You could've told me all of this, Raven. Maybe then I would've listened to you."
"Would you have?" Raven quipped bitterly, dryly. "You refused to hear me out when I argued I had to save our tribe, our first family. You laughed in my face when I warned you that magic held a darker truth. After all of that would you have believed anything I said? Especially about your precious Summer?"
Qrow scoffed, clicking his tongue before traipsing away from the group. With one more passing glare at Raven he took out his flask and disappeared into the adjacent room.
"Most people don't like to hear the truth. Shakes up that little bubble we live in, makes the world scary. Turns out Remnant really is just a fucking mess," Raven grumbled. She shared a look with Yang and snorted. "Don't look at me like that. What would you rather I have done? Bring you with me to bandits? Summer was a good mother to you. You had Ruby, Tai, a good family."
"Summer didn't give birth to me." Yang's muted retort came out in a hiss, shoulders trembling from a storm of emotions. "It's not the same and you know it. You picked them over me."
"The entire tribe would have died -"
"Fuck them!" Yang shouted. Her voice echoed loudly in the dank house and Weiss cringed, shielding one of her ears. "Who cares if the tribe died? They're murderers and thieves! It's people like you that make us need Hunters and guards."
"Yang." Ruby grabbed her sister's hand. "They're still people."
"The Church is why we need Hunters. And perhaps you should consider who you're condemning before you pass judgment." Using her sheathed sword to gesture, Raven pointed towards the door outside. "The men just outside? Dishonored town guards exiled for refusing to accept a corrupt lord's demands. Vernal? Killed a man who raped her and was to be hung, had I not found her. I won't lie and say that every member of my tribe is some tragic soul. We've ransacked villages, we've killed, and we've stolen; whatever was necessary to survive," Raven acquiesced, stamping the ground with the hilt of her sword. "But, sometimes even good men are made to do evil in order to survive. And, sometimes evil men hide behind masks of righteousness, deceiving everyone around them as they grow fat from other people's sacrifices."
"I'm not claiming to be a saint, Yang, but at least I've been honest. Do you want to know why I've stepped in to save you?" A bitter smile returned to Raven's face, half marred by the oppressive shadows in the room, the other cast in a pale glow from the shuttered windows. "Because you are still my daughter. Because, believe it or not, I still wish to protect you."
"You let Merlot take me, then? Where were you when all of that started, huh?"
"What do you want, an apology? I'm sorry that happened but I can't change the past. I can't be everywhere at once, Yang." Raven took a breath, paused, then laid her sword across her lap. "Had you four not slain him I'd have done so myself, but I'd have taken my time with it. That bastard knew I was searching, knew I was onto him, but I couldn't do anything. He had you by the throat. I needed you to find your sister, to find Schnee," she nodded to Weiss. "Anyone else. And if I had to play the part of the villain? Fine."
Weiss couldn't decide what Raven was after by sharing all of this. Pity? Admiration? She certainly didn't feel the latter, and the former more on Yang's behalf than Raven's. Weiss didn't understand the idea of abandoning one's family. Granted, she recognized her unique position, disowned by her own as she was, yet that didn't change matters. If Raven cared, truly cared like she suggested, then she'd never have left to begin with. Why was she solely responsible for the tribe's survival?
"You shouldn't have left us," Ruby broke in. Sat forward and holding Yang to her side she sat a little taller, silver eyes piercing in the dark. "Yang looked for you, you know. Asked dad a lot when you'd come back. When mom died," she paused, shook her head, and swallowed audibly. "When mom left we both expected you to come back. You coming back here isn't a good reason, it's an excuse."
"What would you have of me, then? To admit I was wrong? To say that I chose poorly?" Raven, rather than fold, bristled at the challenge. She rose from her seat and walked towards the girls, her sword swinging from her clenched fist. "There were children here as well, some without parents. You two had a family, you had Tai. Some of them had nothing. They all would have died if I hadn't come back, if someone hadn't gotten these fools' asses working again." She knelt before them, keeping a few feet of distance. Tossing her hair back, Raven set her sword on the floor between them and scowled. "I don't regret what I did. I may regret not making more of an effort to help you two, but these people yet live because of me. The people I've saved," Raven swept an arm outward. "Live now because I gave them a second lease on life. Don't like it? There's my sword."
It took Weiss a second, all of them, to realize what Raven was offering. Knelt before them with her hands in her lap the woman lowered her head and closed her eyes. Submission. Acceptance of whatever judgement they, or rather, Yang and Ruby placed upon her.
If she thought a gesture like that was welcome, then the bandit was even more of an idiot then Weiss had initially suspected.
Raven's sword clattered away, kicked by Yang's foot. Ruby kept her sibling from throwing herself at her mother, although they did fall to the floor in a heap of tangled limbs, Yang thrashing about as tears finally rolled down her cheeks.
"Don't. Don't you fucking dare!" Yang snapped, yelping as Ruby pulled her grasping hand from Raven's robe. "You don't get to play the victim here!"
"I'm not," Raven responded evenly, staring down the bridge of her nose at the sisters.
"You are. You've made this entire ordeal about you, in fact." Weiss inched closer to the trio, stopping well short when Raven's hand struck out like a coiled serpent and retrieved her sword. "You threw their lives into turmoil, abandoned a family you had, the one you started, for one you left." Bitterness crept into her voice and her throat tightened. "And now you think forcing a girl to kill her own mother is going to make things right?"
Not everyone got to choose their family. Hells, few did. For better or worse family was family, regardless of the relationship one had with them. No matter the distance between them Yang would always be Raven's daughter. Ruby would be Summer's, regardless of whether the woman yet lived. Family by blood, although Weiss acknowledged there was more than one kind of family. Her friends, Ironwood - although he was now dubious - and the Church.
She was still a Schnee despite her father's best attempts to erase her from that. Nothing could change that. Even if she were to die halfway across Remnant in a dark alley as he no doubt wanted, she would die a Schnee.
This wasn't about her though, and it certainly wasn't about Raven. No, this was about the two girls sitting on the floor and locked in an embrace, bodies shivering as they sought comfort not in a woman who at one time could have provided it, but each other. Betrayed, abandoned, lied to, they had no one but each other to count on.
"Weiss…"
Until Ruby lifted her head and smiled, a sobering, weary expression. She lifted her arm and Weiss only hesitated a fraction of a second before hurrying forward, ignoring Raven's distrustful glare as she knelt and leaned into the embrace. Yang hesitated, eased back, before wrapping her bandaged arm around Weiss' shoulders and pulling her in.
She couldn't pretend to know what Raven and Yang's relationship was like; she would be willing to bet neither woman knew what they were either, really. Her own family had abandoned her and any correspondence between her and them was painfully sparse. It was fine. She had family here now, embracing her. Despite no blood relation they considered her to be one of them, and she them. A Schnee without anything to her name could still give herself to her friends, couldn't she? Hadn't she already?
Weiss didn't know how long they sat like that, holding one another, her arm wrapped around Ruby's midsection and the other resting on Yang's shoulders. It was a warm embrace that she never wanted to end. An accepting one.
Even after what she'd done, even if she couldn't remember it, they still welcomed her. The warmth of that burned hotter than any flame that Yang could hope to conjure.
"Nice to see you've all made up."
And leave it to Raven to try and snuff that flame out. Lifting her head to glare at the older woman she scoffed, tossing her messy ponytail back. "You're obnoxious."
"And you're a threat," Raven shot back, rising to her feet and shrugging. "But clearly I'm alone in thinking that. Are we done here? I think I need to go vomit now."
"No, we're not done." Yang hugged Ruby closer before finally releasing her sister and rising to her feet. "We've still gotta talk, Raven. Just you and me."
"Fine. Later though, I'm exhausted from all this," she rolled her wrist and eyes. "Whatever this is."
Weiss joined her friends and rose, welcoming the comfort as Ruby took her hand. "Before you leave, there's one question I still need answered." She looked to Yang for permission. This was her mother, her ordeal. If anyone deserves answers from the woman it was her friend, not Weiss herself. Given a nod of approval Weiss smiled, grateful, then turned her attention back to Raven.
"You mentioned before that I was important, or you insinuated as much. Said that you needed me. Well, the Church, Ozpin, they've all but said the same before. Why? Is it because of my magic?"
While magic was abundant and Magi numerous there were only a few who could use runes. Fewer still were the families like the Schnee who had a lineage of rune wielders.
"Clearly, Wardens do not just maintain barriers. Some, those with my magic, may create them, but they're more akin to mercenaries than anything, I think." Weiss' free hand crept up to the mark on her neck. Cool, silent. The searing pain she'd felt before was absent. "You could have had any Warden capable of creating barriers if you needed runes. So, why me?"
"Because they were Wardens, Schnee. Because in order to reveal what the Church does I need to be able to peel back the veil. Show them that their precious barriers are a lie, that Wardens can't be trusted. I'd hoped to get to you before they did." Raven used her sword and moved Weiss' fingers from her neck, tapped it with the sheath, then slung it across her shoulder. "The Church is quick to sink their fingers around anyone who can use runes, but it's those same people that can remove marks, disable barriers, and if our theory is right, the ones who can finally bring the Church to heel."
"'Our' theory?" Ruby repeated.
"You weren't the first choice, Schnee, but you were the only one we had left. Now that you've got that brand though I can't say I'm keen on working with you. I don't need someone who could snap at any moment."
"Weiss won't attack us again," Yang said. "We trust her, Raven. She trusts me with this thing inside me even though I could do the same thing."
"Weiss is my partner, and my best friend." Ruby smiled and Weiss tried to keep herself from becoming too overtly touched. A simple statement but one that made her chest fill with adoration. "We'll figure out what happened."
"And we'll help her get better, just like how she's going to help me. How she's helped Ruby."
Wait, she'd helped Ruby? Not that she wasn't flattered to hear as much but Weiss didn't know what Yang was referring to.
"Isn't that just adorable." Raven held a hand to her chest and smiled mockingly. "Seriously, keep this up and I really will be sick."
"We're not going to abandon each other," Yang went on. "And once we find Blake we're going to keep helping each other. You know why, mom?" She leaned in and smiled. "Because the four of us are family, and because family doesn't leave each other. We've got the other's backs no matter what."
"Hopefully you realize that too someday," Ruby added. "There's no rule against having one family. Or against how big yours can get."
"Don't try to convince her, Ruby, you heard Raven. Her family is here," Yang sneered. "She's right where she belongs, isn't that right?"
The muscle's in Raven's neck went taut, jaw clenching. The sword on her shoulder shifted and Weiss felt Ruby's hand grip hers just a little tighter and a tingling in her palm told her that magic was being readied. It wasn't necessary. With a disgruntled huff the bandit stormed towards the front door, throwing it open. The wood cracked as it slammed against the wall and the men outside jumped.
"You may spend as long as you need in Plockton to rest, but once you're better you are to leave. I'm through trying to justify myself to you ungracious brats. And when you do go, take your fool of an uncle with you!"
Weiss kept close as they watched Raven march away alone, the bandits lingering by the door just wise enough to know when to keep their distance. That, or too frightened to approach. They shared uneasy looks, peered into the building, then dispersed, heading in the clear opposite direction of their leader.
That had gone moderately well. They had gotten answers, fewer than they'd have liked, but still some. And while most of that had been posturing from a woman too proud to admit her mistakes they had learned some things of value.
Summer Rose was possibly alive. To know that and be given hope must have been the most heartening news Ruby had heard in years. Were it not for the bandit's abrasive nature and Yang's sheer disappointment at the woman who birthed her they might even be celebrating that fact now. It gave them something to work towards now, however; finding Summer Rose was important for more than just Ruby and Yang's happiness, although Weiss wouldn't discount that either. The woman knew things about the Church, maybe even Remnant itself, that few others would.
Weiss couldn't ignore the warnings any longer or write them off as mere coincidences. Ozpin and the Church were in the wrong, and as they shuffled towards the door, still linked hand in hand, she didn't feel nearly as lost as she perhaps should have. It meant Ironwood was likely her enemy, a fact that made her heart wrench painfully, but she wasn't alone. Ruby and Yang were with her. Blake too. Pyrrha, Jaune, Ren, Nora, and the other curious souls she'd met along the way.
She still had family, and unlike a certain obstinate woman she wasn't about to abandon them.
Glad to be rid of the musty, dark house, Weiss smiled as Ruby leaned against her, rolling her eyes when Yang slung an arm around both of their shoulders.
"Yang, are you, um…" She hated to ruin what felt like a nice moment. Friendship reaffirmed, together and without any impending crisis. Gods I hope I didn't just jinx us. Weiss looked past Ruby, giving an uneasy smile at Yang. "Are you going to be okay?"
Rather than play coy or crack a joke the blonde nodded, patting Weiss' shoulder. "Eventually, sure. Hard to be upset about what wasn't really there before, ya know?"
"It's okay to not be okay, Yang," Ruby said gently.
"I know, and I'm not. But I will be. Besides, I've got the two awesomest girls here with me, don't I? And we've finally got some fricken time to relax."
"In a town run by bandits," Weiss grumbled.
"Bandits that won't lay a finger on us if they know what's good for them. I say we go explore, find a place that doesn't totally suck, and have some fun."
That sounded like a wonderful idea. An afternoon without some grand conspiracy, attacks, or drama? Weiss dared to think such a thing was possible.
Qrow emerged from the house at last and passed them right by. To Weiss' confusion and disappointment Ruby slipped away from her side and hurried after her uncle.
"Uncle Qrow!" she called, hopping in place when he stopped for her. "Want to come explore with us? It's been ages since we've done something together!"
It pained Weiss to know what the answer was as soon as Qrow's face fell. She hated to see Ruby disappointed. The man rubbed the back of his neck and looked down the road before shaking his head. "Sorry, kiddo, but I've got stuff to do. Can't play right now."
"Don't tell me you're still trusting Ozpin," Yang drawled.
"Not exactly, no. I'm gonna go talk to Rae, see if I can't get more out of her. Besides, you heard her, didn't you?" Qrow held up a finger. "'Our theory', remember? Now, unless we're all expectin' that it's just her and the candlestick fella planning this stuff." A collective shake of their heads said not. "Right. If there's other people working on this stuff then I want to know who. And if she's so adamant about us lending a hand then we need to know who that is."
"If she tells you," Weiss pointed out. "She likely still assumes you're loyal to Ozpin."
Qrow raised an eyebrow, shrugged, and slouched as his hands slid into his pockets. "She can think whatever she wants. If he's messing with you girls then he's as good as the enemy, far as I'm concerned. And if Summer's still alive." He trailed off, lips drawing a thin line. His brow furrowed and he closed his eyes, shook his head, and started back down the road. "Go have fun, girls," he called back with a wave over the shoulder. "I'll catch up with ya later."
Which left the three of them on their own again. Ruby looked disappointed, sure, but Weiss was optimistic, for once, that she could help with that. Assuming I don't have another 'episode' that is.
This time it was her who held her arm open, smiling invitingly as Ruby hurried back. After a quick hug between them she gestured towards the empty, cluttered road before them, lined with abandoned stalls, rickshaw carts, and buildings left in neglect. It wasn't the most picturesque of scenes but there was a certain serenity to it. A peaceful, calming silence that had been all too absent as of late.
"We still need to find Blake," Yang pointed out, folding her hands behind her head. "I know Raven said she'd do it but I don't exactly want to rely on her."
"We wouldn't even know where to begin looking though," Ruby said. She frowned, plucking at the drawstrings of her shirt. "I hope she's okay."
"We'll find her. And when we do the four of us will figure out what we're doing next. Needless to say, I'm beginning to think that we should spend a little time away from Vale." Weiss smiled at the surprised look on her friends' faces. "But we can cross that bridge when we get to it. For now, how about we try and actually relax for once?"
"Sounds good to me, Weissy!"
Ruby nodded, putting a skip to her step before whirling around, walking backwards and ahead of them. "Can we go swimming? Think there's water around that isn't completely gross?"
Swimming in a canal? Disgusting. A pond wasn't going to be much better between the algae, muck, and whatever was living inside of it. Despite herself Weiss offered a halfhearted sigh and shrugged.
"I suppose there's only one way to find out, isn't there?"
"Last one in the water is a Beowolf's arsehole!"
"Yang!" Ruby cried, turning back around and jogging after her sister. "That's disgusting!"
With a roll of her eyes Weiss began to quicken her pace, smiling as the sisters bickered and playfully swat at one another.
They were owed this by now and she planned on fully enjoying it.
/+/+/+/+/+/
Years of training, of practice and refinement, had enabled her to not just hide but live among the shadows. To the average pickpocket tailing a mark she was a veritable paragon of their art. Without magic she could still slip by guards unnoticed, slink into homes, infiltrate guarded outposts. Unless someone expected her, she was never caught, rarely seen leaving. Without magic to block her path there was little to keep her from a mark.
To sneak through a building was one thing. The way floorboards creaked underfoot meant understanding how to pace oneself, where to step for minimal sound, and how to swiftly hide if too much noise was made. Tiled floors squeaked; dirt floors kicked up dirt. Understanding how to mitigate the noises around you was a painstaking endeavor unto itself.
Prowling through the forest wasn't much easier. Leaves rustled; branches snapped. Take to the trees and limbs would flex and creak not unlike floorboards, signaling your approach. The forest floor, blanketed by leaves and debris, was as safe as walking over shattered glass.
It took a special, excruciating kind of patience and deftness of movement to maintain your concealment.
Ahead, her target moved again. Taking a quick survey of its surroundings the creature slinked through the forest, twisting its body to avoid briars and jutting limbs. Blake waited, counted. Through the foliage she watched and held her breath, let her mark disappear, then held still longer. Once she was positive she'd go undetected she slipped from the bush, stepped over a fallen, molding log, and padded along the forest floor.
As intense as the midafternoon sun might be there was precious little light reaching through the canopies above. Intermittent bursts of light kept the forest from being completely dark. Wind caused leaves to shift, making shadows dance and the light shift, threatening to expose her.
At the base of a pine tree she pressed herself against the trunk and dropped into a squat, pulling her scarf up to cover her mouth and nose. Muffle the sound of her breathing. More than sight, sound would give her away. Animals that lived in the forest knew to listen for irregularities. Crackling leaves. Labored breathing. The gentle hiss of a blade pulled from a sheathe.
Her dagger slid soundlessly from the cloth belt. A blade black as her mane glistened in the poorly light. Testing its edge on a leaf she smiled as it sliced through with ease, no pressure needed. The tip punctured the bark without much force.
One strike. Either to kill or cripple, although the latter meant things would become messy quickly. Injured marks often fought back or fled. Either was going to be inconvenient.
The mark was just ahead now, bent over in a patch of grass. Water dripped from the low hanging leaves of a red maple. Distracted, if only momentarily.
Blake eased herself around the tree. One of the animal's ears swiveled, its head turning to follow. Black eyes stared into the brush, body tensing in anticipation. Dropping to one knee she held her breath again and waited, determined not to ruin things now. For an agonizing time it stared out, not seeing her but not content to look away either. Then, after her calf began to ache from crouching, the deer finally looked away and resumed its grazing.
The dagger left her hand in an instant, whistling as it hurtled towards the deer's neck. Flesh offered little resistance to such a sharp edge. The doe, not recognizing it had been injured, bleated and kicked its legs. Its head snapped to the side and blood oozed from the wound on its side. weakened, it tried to run and flee, legs giving way as its body collapsed in on itself.
The doe had little hope of escaping. With her dagger digging into its side Blake pounced on it in an instant. While the animal writhed beneath her, legs kicking in a desperate bid to knock her away, another dagger was driven into its chest. Gradually the fight left the animal. Breaths became ragged and the body beneath her grew still. Black eyes, more intelligent than most people cared to admit, looked up at her, before the doe laid its head down and shuddered.
"I'm sorry." Blake pulled her daggers free and remained atop the deer, flicking blood away before sheathing them. "I promise you won't go to waste."
Little consolation for a life being snuffed out. Pretty words meant nothing to a dying animal - less so to a person - but she had to offer them. Hunting frivolously had never been something she'd done. Nature supported them. Nature would be on Remnant long after she passed on. Long after mankind and Faunus erased one another in their war, after Grimm wiped them out, whatever came first.
Some good had come out of being in the White Fang. She'd learn to revere the world that supported them, appreciate all it provided. On the whims of the world they would flourish or perish. And unlike a king's mind which could be swayed with reason, or bribery, the world didn't care for a speech or sentiments. You, and the animals within Remnant, lived and died with little cause.
Shadow swallowed the deer and the body was ferried away, transported in an instant. As much as she'd have liked to send herself along too she hesitated. Magic attracted Grimm. Far as she was from the hut there was no reason they would attack Avery and Ilia but still she waited. On the damp forest ground, she sat, closed her eyes, and listened.
The deer hadn't woken that morning and expected to become someone's meal. Blake refused to be caught so unaware.
So, she bid her time. Alone in the forest and eager to feast she sat instead on decaying fauna, ears flicking and swiveling at the slightest of sounds. She batted at the occasional mosquito or fly, cracked an eye open to track a squirrel as it raced through the underbrush, but otherwise she remained still.
In no way would she repay kindness by delivering Grimm to Avery's doorstep. If any lingered nearby she would deal with them here and now.
An hour passed. No howling, no black silhouettes prowling through the forest. Nursing her dry throat with crisp water from her canteen Blake collected herself and began making her way back to the hut. General direction was enough. The markings she'd left on trees served no purpose but to signal she was going the right way. The pattern she left zigzagged, the marks changing from simple slashes to multiple pronged cuts, like a wagon wheel. No one else would follow them and find the hut. She'd made certain of that.
By the time she returned Avery was already well on her way to preparing the doe. A bloodied hide hung from a low post and the creature had been cut apart, a bloodied cleaver resting beside a small basin. Innards sat in the basin and even from the edge of the property Blake could smell them, ripe in the hot sun.
Ilia waved and she returned it, smiling as she went to help by the fire. Avery, without looking up from her bloody work, pointed towards a small table beside her home. "Flank is over there. Carve it up so we can put it in a stew."
That was the way they handled things. Either Blake or Avery went out to hunt. If she were honest, she preferred going; her magic made transporting larger kills easy. Given the choice between fresh venison and a few rodents it was a brainless choice.
With practiced ease she went to work. Opal would be proud of how swiftly she cut apart the meat, how uniform the cuts were. Blake dared to think she could give the elderly woman a run for her money now. She knows how to make more than just a simple stew. She felt a somber smile appear and her ears folded back, shaking her head slowly. She'd outcook anyone in the Fang and you know it.
How was Opal doing, she wondered. Or Brienne? Ilia was safe but their friends still remained under Adam's watch. Saving them now would be all but impossible.
Blake set aside the bloody femur bone, still wrapped in sinew, tendons dangling limply. Not much meat to be had on the leg.
Borderline impossible but she'd still try.
Preparing meat for them was an easy task. While Ilia shucked herbs and tore them into edible pieces Avery finished preparing the deer. "Most of this will sell at a market," she explained, heaving a dripping steak from the carcass. "We only need so much, and I've got to make a living. Hope you don't mind."
"Not at all," Blake said. "So long as we eat, I'm fine."
"Good." Avery smiled, handed the steak to Blake and began cutting again. "There's a box behind the house filled with salt. Set it in there for now, bury it if you can. After that you can take the basin and go dump it away from the house." She glanced up and her smile turned teasing. "Unless you'd like to eat stomach?"
"Tempting, but no. Ilia?"
Ilia grimaced, shuddered, and waved a handful of thyme. "Get rid of it!"
Only too glad to be rid of the putrid organs Blake grabbed the basin and held it at arm's length, burying her nose in her shoulder as she carried it away. Flies already swarmed the entrails and they no doubt crawled with smaller, unseen insects. Once she was a good way from the hut she set the container down and flipped it, wrinkling her nose as the contents wetly slopped out. Dragging the now dripping basin behind her she hurried back to the hut, stomach growling audibly seeing the stew being prepared.
After washing up in a nearby stream they settled in and ate. Ilia from the shadow of the hut - she was still concussed, albeit improving - and Blake and Avery sat comfortably by the dying embers of the fire.
The stew was simple but satisfying. Chunks of venison seared to a golden brown mixed with thyme, rosemary, and sage. Chunks of potato helped make the stew heavier. All taken from the bountiful forest. It wasn't the "professionally" prepared meals that the Church provided its Hunters and somehow that made it all the better. They'd made the meal themselves. Foraged and hunted. Knowing they put the effort in made it taste all the better. After one bowl Blake helped herself to another, helping Ilia get seconds, and smiling bashfully as Avery held her own bowl out expectantly.
They ate in comfortable silence. Once the clay pot was all but empty they relaxed, bellies full and the day waning on. By now the sun was beginning to descend, turning treetops a brilliant orange as its light worked harder to spill over them, like desperate fingers clawing for purchase on rock.
She would love nothing more than to sleep now. Between the meal, the warm sun, and the relative feeling of comfort, Blake felt her eyes begging to close. Ilia looked just as ready as she leaned against the hut, arms folded as she fought to keep her head up.
A lingering question kept her from laying down then and there. Helping Avery collect their bowls she set them on the same table she'd prepared the meal, waiting for the huntress to bury the fire before speaking.
"If you don't mind my asking," Blake began. "Why help us?"
Avery knelt and dipped the bowls in a bucket of water. Grease and scraps of food washed off, floating to the surface and congealing. "Why not?" she asked simply.
"We're complete strangers. We could be dangerous to you." We are dangerous to you.
They had filled Avery in as much as was reasonable and she knew what housing them meant. Yet still she insisted on hosting them.
"Could be. You could have slit my throat in my sleep too."
"Then why help us?" Blake said. She accepted a clean bowl and handed over another. "Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful for what you've done for us, but I don't get why you did. Experience tells me people don't exactly help someone without something to gain from it."
Snorting, Avery smirked up at her. "That's a bit cynical, don't you think?"
"Not cynical if it's true."
The White Fang brought her up to use her. Adam took care of her, helped to provide for her, because she could serve as his personal assassin. The Church accepted her because she was an instrument to attack Merlot with. Her friends - Pyrrha, Jaune, Ren and Nora - attacked her. While they hadn't done the same as of yet Blake expected Weiss and the others would turn on her too.
Avery would have to forgive her if she was skeptical. The woman hadn't done anything to warrant suspicion, beyond saving them anyways, and yet she hadn't felt totally at ease the whole time.
"Avery." Setting aside the last cleaned bowl, Blake reached out, thought better of it, and placed her hand to her chest instead. "If there's something else going on then tell us, please?"
Again, she was given a smile in reply. Yet even with how new they were to one another Blake could tell it was of. Guarded. "I can't just help someone out of the kindness of my heart?"
"We can leave if you're hiding something. We won't forget your kindness -"
"It's not like that. I mean, yes, there's more to it, but it's nothing you have to worry about." Then why not say something? Avery began to walk away and she followed, keeping close. Sighing, Avery stopped and turned, holding her hands up. "Does it matter why I helped? I just did. Can't we leave it at that?"
Avery shuffled her feet, rubbing her arm as she looked away. There was something more to this, obviously, but maybe she was just being paranoid. If Avery had wanted to harm them then she'd have done so already. She wouldn't nurse them back to health just to try and betray them, no one was that stupid. Yet the woman refused to speak about it.
You're being paranoid. She's not the enemy.
Just like how your friends weren't. Or the White Fang?
You were right about the Church.
One for three. Great track record.
"Blake?"
"Hm?"
"You kind of zoned out there," Avery said. "You okay?"
She nodded. Fine, aside from her mind catastrophizing everything. Maybe this was genuinely just someone being helpful. It stood to reason that not everyone on Remnant was a manipulator.
"Fine," she said, offering a small smile. "Sorry for pestering you. Whatever your reasons are, they're your own." She bowed her head. "Thank you for helping us again. I don't know what we'd have done otherwise."
A gentle bap on her head made her flinch, ears perking up. "Cut that out, I don't want anyone groveling to me," Avery teased, then thumbed over her shoulder. "If you want to make it up to me then go dump the water and bring back some fresh stuff. I'm not bathing in leftover stew, are you?"
She hadn't planned on it, no. Collecting the bucket she watched Avery help Ilia back inside the hut to rest, sharing a smile with the woman before she started her descent down to the river.
She was still concerned, unnecessarily so maybe, but she couldn't ignore the kindness done for them either. No Hunters or Wardens had arrived in the two days since they'd been rescued, no Grimm. Avery wasn't going to betray them.
And, if the gods were so kind, neither would Weiss and the others. Barring living with the huntress from now on, an arrangement she was sure none of them exactly wanted, the best course of action would be to find her friends.
Blake dumped the dirty water into the river and watched the oil, shining atop the crystal flow, disappear downstream. After rinsing the bucket out she filled it again, pausing briefly to sit on the rocky shore and relax. The gentle trickling of the water as it sloshed against rocks and slipped through reeds was comforting. Birds nearby called out, their songs merry and cheerful, high notes falling to a dulcet warbling. With the sun kissing her face she tilted her head back and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath.
Finding the others was going to be a nightmare. That would be future Blake's problem. Now? Ilia needed to recover, and while she did Blake would continue helping out as much as possible.
After everything, even with uncertainty on her mind, their cooperation, hers and Avery's, felt like a long overdue respite from the chaos that had been her life as of late.
/+/+/+/+/+/
Vale City had not begun as the sprawling, glorious bastion of humanity. It's beginnings were far more humbles, as they often were, created in a last ditch effort to prevent mankind from falling to the Grimm.
Years past, generations ago, Humans and Faunus both struggled against the Grimm. Magic, as the writings went, was more primordial, more unwieldy. Magi were far and few between and as such humanity relied on steel to beat back the fell beasts. It was a losing battle. There is a reason that the Church existed now and commanded so much respect. Regardless of one's opinion on it, on its masters, no one could deny the stability which the organization brought to Remnant.
Yet the Church was only a century old, formally, and ages long since gone experienced untold terrors. Magic was unruly, flesh and bone the only weapon to stand against Grimm. People who thought Remnant was dangerous now were ignorant, misguided, or peddling lies. Much of the history prior to the Church of Remnant's creation was obfuscated or warped, manipulated to paint a decidedly rosier picture of the world. Elevate Magi, create a fervent, borderline fanatical reverence of magic. If only people knew just how dangerous magic truly was back then. How magic itself had nearly brought humanity to ruin long before the Grimm ever did.
Wheels rocked as they rolled down a cobbled road and the carriage shook, axels creaking as the vehicle plodded along. Through the thin curtains Hazel watched as the merchant's district gave way to that of nobility. Cluttered buildings grew further and further apart, the pedestrians fewer in number. The road evened out, build from carved pavers, and those who walked the roads wore attire that clearly set them apart. Regal doublets, flowing multi-layered gowns, pleated skirts. Many men and women wore houpleands with billowing sleeves, family crests embroidered on the breast. They carried themselves with dignity, not a speck of dirt beneath their fingernails.
Likely not a hard day's labor in their lifetime either.
Ironic that it was the selfsame class that had saved Remnant all those years ago.
Magic had been risky, although not entirely unreliable. Many could use it but few could command it effectively. Those who could often were held in the highest regard, elevated to positions of social prominence. Wise men and women who helped lead humanity back from the brink.
Hazel drew the curtains opened, nodding to a passing nobleman as they waved. He didn't know their name - he rarely knew any of them - but they recognized his armor and what it meant. For that alone they treated him highly.
Just as those in the Commandery commanded respect so too had the nobles. Capable Magi, they settled in defensible lands with those who followed and created the earliest settlements. Some survived, many more perished. Vale City was one of the former.
With a single capable Magi to guide them the people not only held off the Grimm but flourished. First a village formed, then a town. When the numbers grew a fortress was erected, knights were trained, and the small settlement began to grow and become something greater. Within a single generation the city became a beacon of hope to anyone seeking respite from the Grimm horde. The city had many heroes, many whose names would be recorded in the annals of history, but one stood out among the rest.
Hrogar Caines.
One of the most powerful Magi that Remnant had ever seen and the first ruler of their fair kingdom. Under his guidance and with the aid of a handful of other powerful Magi the city was formed. A small fortress grew into a grand castle, towering over the rest of the city below.
Uphill the cart went. They passed by several others moving past, a procession of priests and their armed escorts. Finely trimmed bushes flanked the roads, breaking occasionally for a stone path that led to the wealthiest of residences in the kingdom. Here, flags flew proudly, fluttering in the wind as they brandished their family's crests for any passerby to see. The families here could trace their lineage back to those few Magi who stood with the first king and helped establish Vale as one of Remnant's four great dominions. As impressive as those homes might be, each large enough to house twenty families within their walls, they all paled in comparison to the castle.
Edos' Cradle loomed ahead at the head of the road. Rather, its walls did, the first of three which separated the castle from the city at large. Vestiges of times long past more than a necessary precaution nowadays each wall was thirty feet thick and sported towers twice the wall's own height. Even now, as his carriage moved along the road, Hazel could make out the guards patrolling the walls. Some would be Magi, many his own men, while others were simply royal guards.
Beyond the gray walls, beyond the moats and the drawbridges, stood the castle itself. A creation of manpower and magic both it stood as it had nearly five hundred years past, a symbol of humanity's determination to not just survive but thrive.
Despite all of his trips to it Hazel felt a familiar swell of pride in his breast.
As the legends went the gods had a hand in building the monumental structure. Ralthor burned the bricks in his kiln, scorching them and leaving them burned red, like metal fresh from the forge. The stained windows which adorned most of the windows, many depicting historical events or figures, were masterpieces from Lummaire, goddess of ice, meticulously crafted by hand by her faithful in honor of the king. Genrei worked the mountain itself which overlooked Forever Fall, creating a perfectly level peak for the castle itself to sit upon. And Edea, in her benevolence, made the trees which provided a natural beauty to the castle tower above all others, their twisting limbs reaching heavensward. The fields of flowers beyond the castle walls were her doing as well, a touching if frivolous showing, a reminder that life here was safe.
Hazel raised a hand as his carriage stopped at the first gatehouse. Two of the kings' guards approached, wearing hauberks beneath leather vests, dyed green with golden twin axes within a laurel wreath crossed along the back, the kingdom's insignia. The men acknowledged him with little more than a nod. A call was made and with a near silent churn the first of the gates lifted.
The reality of the castle's origins were far more mundane than local folklore would have one believe. Countless craftsmen from the kingdom over were brought in to create the bricks and glass. The land itself was ideal to begin with - elevated, defensible, with no fear of being attacked thanks to the cliffs behind the castle. Magic helped, surely, but it was man, not the gods, who created the kingdom's crowning jewel.
And what a jewel it was. Between the first two walls were groves of trees, preened and cut unto uniform shape. Workers toiled here even now to maintain the land, some two hundred feet between the outer and second most wall. Other carriages loitered here to wait for an audience with the king or one of his advisors. They would continue to wait as his own vehicle moved past the processions, waved along by common guards.
Within the second wall were smaller homes. Stone and wooden roofs, the homes here served many of the king's servants. A peculiarity among nobility but one that the original king had insisted upon. Despite the castle's scale and sheer size only a few of those who worked within its walls actually lived there. The rest took up residence in Edea's Breath.
Yet another pretentious name given to what was otherwise just an upscale servant's quarters. Although Hazel supposed he had to commend the king's family for treating its loyal servants better than most others. How many attendants could boast owning their own homes? To serve the king was not just a duty but a blessing.
In his younger days, when he had more time, Hazel rather liked to roam the streets which circled around the castle's inner wall. Those who worked for the crown were often of the kinder variety, hardworking and honest. Considering all their needs were met - food, housing, clothing, not to mention modest stipends - it was no surprise that some families had spent generations serving the king.
Now he hadn't the time nor the inclination to visit. The people here regarded him as something larger than he was. Nobles were polite, almost gratingly so, but the servants thought of him and those of similar rank as paragons. He'd take the artificial graciousness of nobility over the fervent clamor of the servants any day.
Passing through the final gatehouse he was at last granted access to the castle's courtyard. At the end of the road his carriage finally came to a stop, his driver, much to his chagrin, stepped down from the front and opened the door, holding it for him to emerge. Nevermind that he was twice the man's size and at least half his age; he was perfectly capable of opening a door himself. Nonetheless, Hazel uttered his thanks and stepped out, the vehicle rocking as he dismounted, wheels creaking in relief, glad to be rid of his weight.
"I shall wait out here until you are finished, my lord," his driver said. "Should you require me to stay longer I have been given leave to make use of a room on the premises. Please, do not hesitate to inform me if there is anything more I can do."
"Thank you. I don't believe I will be long, however."
He certainly hoped not. Long meetings with the king rarely amounted to anything good, and personal summons even less so. Busy as he was with his duties only the direst of events compelled His Majesty to bring him to the capital. The last time he'd been brought in, Merlot had been running rampant. And the time before that? A city's barrier had failed, and they had needed to prepare for refugees and to defend Vindemia, both of which had been gargantuan undertakings.
"Gods willing the kingdom isn't on fire."
Twin fountains flanked the walkway leading up to a set of granite steps. Marble white as fresh snow spilled water from them, each shaped in the image of Hrogar himself. On the right the first king stood over the back of a fallen Beowolf, sword held aloft as water spilled from the beast's mouth. Flowerbeds enclosed the fountains with stone paths allowing entry; yellow tulips, violet irises, and pink camellias. Lethargic bluebells and bombastic bougainvilleas swayed silently, filling the air with a concoction of scents.
The fountain on the right depicted the king hand-in-hand with a servant. The 'King of the People' as he was affectionately referred to as. Always making time for the citizens of the city, of anyone within his kingdom if time could be made. A more ideal ruler there was not. Rumor had it that the king had died from overworking himself, tending to too many of his subjects.
It was a trait that his family seemed to maintain all these years later.
Climbing the steps to the front door he grabbed the knocker, an iron Beowolf head, and knocked three times. Beyond the thick doors he couldn't hear much beyond the echoing thud, and none of servants working in the gardens moved to assist him.
So, Hazel waited. Clad head to toe in his decorative armor he stood patiently, shifting his weight and rubbing at his broad chin. Gilded gold, the High Commander's armor had been refitted for him upon his promotion. It was heavy even by his standards, cumbersome, and wholly impractical for combat. Yet custom dictated that he wore it when in the king's presence, bothersome as it was.
Thankfully he didn't need to wait long. Within minutes the door opened, and a familiar young woman greeted him, offering a polite smile that Hazel returned easily.
"Ah, Lord Commander!" So many titles. Perhaps once he found the time for it he'd reduce them, just a bit. At least to a point where he didn't have to second guess if it was him that was being spoken to or someone else. "So glad that you've arrived," the woman said as she pushed the door open further. Hazel pressed his hand against it and helped. "My thanks. I trust the journey here wasn't too difficult?"
"Not at all. A little stuffy," Hazel admitted. "But hardly unpleasant. It is good to see you again, Gretchen."
"And you, dear brother." He knew it was coming and Hazel still almost fell back when Grentchen threw herself at him. An awkward hug was shared, and she laughed, kissing his cheek before stepping back. "You look uncomfortable, brother. Must you always wear that armor when you visit?"
"I do when His Majesty wishes to see me. Customs."
"Bah." Gretchen waved a hand dismissively and waved him in, waiting for the door to close before leading him away. "You and your droll customs. Who is going to punish you if you don't wear that?"
"It's tradition," Hazel said. "My comfort is less important than following the precedent set by my forebears. As High Commander I represent not only myself but the entirety of Vale's Commandery. If I showed up looking like a common knight -"
"As if anyone would mistake you for a common knight! You're here often enough that the staff know who you are, brother. Not to mention you clearly have better hygiene practices than some of our own." Grentchen's face pinched and she waved in front of her face.
It was probably a bad idea to mention he hadn't had a proper bath in over a week. Worse still was how long he sometimes went without washing whatsoever. Not by choice but because work kept him far too busy to fret over something so frivolous. Deciding it was better to keep that secret to himself Hazel merely nodded, smiling to himself as they walked along.
Per usual the castle itself was abuzz with activity. Servants hurried about their daily duties, cleaning and maintaining the rooms and halls, greeting visitors. Some rushed by to deliver meals or help transport documents or goods brought in for storage. With his cumbersome armor Hazel had to press against the walls more than once to allow people to pass by, each time earning a teasing smile from his younger sibling, as if to say 'I told you so.'
"Believe me, dear sister, I'm no more a fan of this armor than you."
While the castle itself still managed to captivate him to this day the interior was nowhere near as breathtaking. Paintings of former kings and nobles, tapestries, vintage weapons, all that and more adorned the walls as they passed through the hallways. To him it was no different than the countless homes of nobility he had visited over the years, just on a larger scale. He had long since stopped paying them little mind and instead listened to Gretchen's excitable chatter as they made their way to the innermost reaches.
She had been, unsurprisingly, rather busy as of late. Most servants were but few held quite the same duties as Gretchen. Behind the bright, innocent, freckled face of his sister was a shrewd woman whose insight had earned her a place in the king's retinue. It helped that she was familiar in high places - him - but Hazel was positive she'd earned the right on her own.
He couldn't be prouder. Although the particulars of her duties eluded even him she clearly did her job well, maintaining her position for the last twelve years. She might dress like any other servant, roam the halls like the rest, but Hazel knew she was so much more than that.
"And then I needed to visit Lord Hammond in Gordes. Do you know what he said to me?!"
Hazel blinked, looking at the back of his sister and clearing his throat. "Sorry, did you say something?"
"Hazel! You're the worst!" Gretchen stopped and slapped his chest. "Ack, damn you!"
"I didn't make you slap plate mail," he tutted.
"You're wearing it! I can't smack you like that!" Was that supposed to be an incentive for him to remove the armor? Gretchen huffed, continuing down the hall as she shook out her hand. "It doesn't matter anyways. He folded when I told him His Majesty personally sent me."
"Hm. You mean to tell me he was not afraid of a little girl?"
"I'm almost thirty! And I am not little, Hazel. You're just freakishly big!"
"I prefer to think I'm sturdy," Hazel laughed.
"You're a jerk!" He laughed again, patting Gretchen's back when she growled.
Together they arrived at the king's hall. Past visitations told him the room which lay beyond the twin oak doors was spacious, bright thanks to tall arched open-air windows, and decorated with all manner of memorabilia; old suits of armor polished to look new, a dozen of Vale's banners hanging from the vaulted ceiling, and at the head of the throne room were the king and queen's thrones. The guards at the door stood at attention at once, saluted, yet neither moved to open the doors for them.
"I need to tell you something before we go in, Hazel. You're not the only one here today," Gretchen warned.
"Who else is visiting? Don't tell me I'll be meeting with some haughty aristocrats. I'm not sure I've the patience for them today."
"Not quite, although I'd prefer them if I'm honest." Gretchen crept closer and rose onto her toes, cupping a hand by her mouth. "It's the Church. His Majesty wants to talk about you-know-what, and the Church sent someone as a representative. I tried to convince him to keep them out…"
"But doing so would be seen as a sleight and arouse suspicion." Hazel rolled his eyes, then groaned, rubbing at his face. "Wonderful. Do you know who it is? Who can I expect inside?"
Gretchen shook her head. "I've never met her before. She's…" His sister paused, frowned. "Weird. Be careful what you say."
"That goes without saying, sister. Thank you for your help."
Someone from the Church? Was he to deal with a Hunter or Warden then? Assuming they were here about events in Galloway, and there really was little other reason for their visit, he'd have to assume the latter.
Fantastic. He'd always hated the robed bastards more than the rest.
"Edos help me." Sighing, Hazel placed his hands on the great doors and pushed, stepping through as they swung open. Natural light spilled into the foyer and he stopped in the doorway, frowning as the king and his visitor stopped their conversation. The former moved from the table and smiled, spreading his arms in greeting as he approached.
"Hazel, so good to see you. Were it more under auspicious circumstances."
Not just a courtesy call then. Hazel's eyes drifted from the king to the woman at the table. Not one he knew, which was troubling. He liked to think he knew everyone the Church employed, everyone they kept among their ranks. Not her, however.
Just who are you?
/+/+/+/+/+/
Blake squinted through the dim light, brushing her bangs from her eyes as she gave her eyes a second to adjust. Ilia continued to sleep undisturbed in the lone bed inside of the hut. Avery, the gracious hostess she had been, allowed her friend to continue sleeping there until she'd recovered. Herself and Blake had made use of two chairs. Crude, but suitable enough.
Her own chair squeaked as she shifted, peeling off her blanket and glancing around the small space.
Where was Avery?
Silent as can be she stood, setting the blanket over her chair and creeping over to the round dining table. Her daggers were still there, bound inside of her belt. Not stolen then, although that didn't keep her mind from jumping to conclusions.
Avery had been nothing but helpful since they were found. Nursed back to health, fed, and given shelter when they didn't deserve it, the woman had displayed a level of altruism that she hadn't really seen before. While Blake supposed people could be good for the sake of good itself - Ruby came to mind - she counted that as an exception, not the rule.
It left her feeling disgusting as she strapped her weapons to her waist, pulling up her scarf and slipping out of the hut. She had no reason to think Avery meant them harm yet her mind refused to let her believe otherwise.
Why else would she slip out at night unannounced? Why take them in for no apparent reason? Even after they came clean about who they were she still agreed to keep them housed and fed.
People didn't just do that. Something more was at play; she was sure of it.
Blake scoured the immediate area around the hut. She checked the table where they had prepared their meal earlier in the day, behind the house where Avery had created a small herb garden. She wasn't among the drying racks where hides hung, stripped bare and ready for sale. Nor was Avery anywhere in the clearing surrounding the hut itself.
Above, the moon burned bright, its light uninhibited by any clouds. A sea of stars lit up the sky and turned Vale's countryside a washed out, paler version of itself. Grass which was vibrant green by day now resembled a sickly, paler shade, glistening with moisture. Trees stood in shadow and only the very tops of them were visible, the rest cloaked in darkness. Even with her enhanced vision Blake couldn't hope to spot Avery among them. Nor could her ears discern anything beyond the chirping of crickets, the gentle rustling of leaves on the wind, or the occasional call of a nocturnal animal.
Where else could she have gone? As her nerves continued to harry her she left the hut behind and treaded one of two paths leading away from the home. Oak trees, thick enough that her arms couldn't hope to wrap around them fully, were replaced with spindly birches. The ground sloped away from her and she could see more with the sparser foliage above.
A snake ran from her as she walked down the path, its slender body writhing beneath fallen leaves. She stepped over roots that sprouted out of the packed earth, reaching out to catch herself on a nearby tree as rocks under her boots rolled, nearly causing her to slip.
Down she went, following the twisting path. Running water reached her ears long before she saw it. The gentle lap of the river against the banks and the more resounding crash as it slapped against stones, sloshing over them and spilling over the backs. The ground grew softer and Blake used what precious little moonlight there was to navigate the sodden ground, avoiding divots and finding more solid footing. The trees thinned further, and she was able to see the river now, a moving, pearlescent body, like a larger serpent made of gemstone carving its way through the land, twisting and turning.
If Avery had gone into the forests then finding her wouldn't just be difficult, it would be foolish. Grimm could be prowling, or Hunters. Honestly, even coming here to the river was an idiotic thing to do.
Blake knew she wouldn't be able to sleep without knowing where Avery had gone. If there was something more to their hostess, then she needed to know. If they were in imminent danger as she feared then she needed to take Ilia, recovered or not, and leave.
Keeping to the tree line she moved along the riverbanks, ears swiveling any time she heard anything besides the running water, amber eyes piercing the veil of darkness.
What if she's made a deal with the Church? With Adam? She knows who we are now so she'd be able to find someone. We were such idiots to reveal ourselves! She had wanted to trust Avery, desperate for kinship after the betrayal she'd experienced. In what she could only consider an influence of Ruby she'd divulged her identity to a total stranger, trusting Avery not to betray them.
Except you don't trust her. You wouldn't be out here in the middle of the night searching if you did.
Blake stopped. What she thought was a rock in the middle of the river moved, just barely. On reflex one of her hands inched towards a dagger as she kept her eyes on the silhouette, straining to make out who, or what it was.
Grimm? A Hunter? Something else entirely?
Avery. She felt idiotic when the moonlight caught the woman and illuminated her. Blake felt her cheeks grow warm and she closed her eyes, smacked her forehead and cursed at herself.
Avery hadn't bathed earlier with her and Ilia. She'd claimed to be embarrassed, which was fair; she and Ilia were complete strangers. Nothing wrong with a little modesty. And here she was skulking around in the dark while Avery tried to enjoy some much deserved private time.
You idiot. Blake almost wanted to laugh at herself. Shaking her head she ran a hand through her hair, sighed, and started back towards the trail. She was hardly a voyeur and Avery was owed at least a little time to herself after all she'd done.
Instead of going back however Blake paused, glancing back one last time. She should stay if only to guarantee Avery's safety, right? Grimm could still show up and the woman wasn't a Magi and likely didn't have her bow with her. She'd be completely defenseless if something were to attack her.
Avery moved downstream, oblivious to Blake's presence. For a moment she dove under water and Blake inched back into the trees, ashamed to be watching and dreading being spotted. She'd stay for a while, just long enough to ensure Avery's wellbeing.
She had no intention of watching Avery, yet when the woman resurfaced Blake found herself unable to look away. It wasn't because the woman was immensely beautiful and she had suddenly become enraptured. Nor was it because she thought Avery might be in any kind of danger.
The woman turned and lifted her hair from her back and that's when Blake saw them. Right by Avery's shoulder blades were two blackened stumps, hardly discernible if not for the moonlight and the woman's comparatively pale skin. A few feathers hung from the stumps, useless and drenched.
"Oh."
Thanks once again for reading, you lovely folks!