When Ilia's eyes open again, it's close to midnight, a full moon hanging in the sky above her. The moonlight is far brighter than ideal, but waiting two weeks to even attempt reconnaissance is not to Ilia's advantage.
The truck is in the same place. One woman is on its roof, seated comfortably. They're good enough to leave a watch, but her senses will be dulled by the darkness and Ilia can likely avoid her. She scans the horizon for Grimm to give her position away, then moves, testing each space before she puts her foot down. Even a rattle of pebbles can give her away.
The watch doesn't move. She's facing Ilia's direction, but scanning the horizon, not the rocks barely fifty feet from her. If Ilia strays out into the area the sentry can see, for less than a second, she can camouflage herself behind another, closer dune.
Guides don't take risks. Their first priority in any situation is their own wellbeing; anyone else, no matter how powerful, is ultimately expendable.
But after months of searching, Blake is painfully close. Ilia won't spend more time waiting. She takes a step out, then another. Cautious and light-footed but deceptively fast. In another moment, she'll be hidden again.
"Hey! You!"
She's been spotted. Ilia freezes on instinct, mere feet short of safety. The moon glints off of metal pieces in the watch's hands. A gun, pointed at her.
Ilia could run and take her chances that the watch isn't a good shot. If she's using a handgun, her accuracy won't be enough to kill Ilia, but she could still be injured severely. If Ilia gets injured out here, with no support and no resources, that's a death but slightly slower.
"Come forward slowly. Hands where I can see them."
It isn't worth the risk to disobey. Ilia raises her hands and continues forward, caring less where her feet land. The watch jumps off the truck almost effortlessly, keeping the barrels of a shotgun trained on Ilia. She's a decent fighter, at least, and Ilia doesn't like her odds of winning a fair fight. She keeps moving, stopping when she's about six feet from the watch. The woman's eyes widen momentarily, moonlight glancing off of scarlet, when she sees Ilia's insignia.
"This isn't your territory. Talk or start running," the watch says.
These people are reasonable, at the very least. They took Blake in, and they're offering Ilia a chance to talk her way out rather than shooting her as soon as they see the insignia. It's worth a try.
"I'm not with a patrol," she says, squinting at the watch's face to determine her reaction. "I'm looking for Blake Belladonna."
The watch taps the metallic side of the truck twice. She's calling in the rest of her team, including Blake. Perhaps they'll at least let Ilia speak to her. Ilia steps toward the truck.
"Stay back," the watch growls. "I'm not letting scum like you in. Why the hell would you track Blake for months, after anyone alone would be long dead out here?"
"I had to find her," Ilia begins, but the watch cuts her off.
"Blake went into a Ground Zero site to hide from your searches. She got caught by someone, something, I don't even know, but she's been through a hell of a lot. She's with us now, and we trust her, and we don't turn people we trust over to bounty hunters."
"I'm not a bounty hunter," Ilia snaps. It's a common enough accusation, that the Guides are nothing more than killers for hire, and now of all times it hurts. "Is that what she told you?"
The watch hesitates for a moment before answering, and Ilia can use that hesitation.
"She was running from the White Fang when we found her. We've all stolen a few gallons of water when they wouldn't trade and we were dying, or ventured into the wrong territory, and we all have death sentences for that. If she was trying to survive, she's welcome here. If she did something worse to you bastards, she's a fucking hero."
"Blake Belladonna has been one of our best agents for years," Ilia says curtly.
The watch takes a step back in shock. Perfect. She's physically powerful but controlled by her emotions, and someone like Ilia can exploit that to get out alive.
"No," she says after a moment, but there's fear in her eyes. "Blake wouldn't –"
"Blake lied to you," Ilia says, to twist the knife and with luck distract the watch enough to give her an escape route. "You thought she was just some drifter on the run? An ally? She told you that and you trusted her blindly?"
The watch makes a low, inhuman sound in her throat. Neither of them notice the door of the truck opening, until they hear a soft gasp.
"Ilia?"
…
Yang's hand flies out to pin Blake against the truck by her neck. It's more instinct than strategy; if someone sneaks up behind her in the dark there's no time to think before fighting back.
"Talk," she snarls, keeping her eyes and the shotgun trained on the White Fang woman. "This was a trap all along, wasn't it?"
"I don't – I don't know what you mean," Blake gasps. She sounds like she's injured, and Yang wants to look back at her, wants to loosen her fingers, but she doesn't.
"Yang, let go of her." Pyrrha's voice, used to being in command, rings out, and Yang reluctantly obeys. There's a scuffle she can't see behind her, and the White Fang woman is slammed into the wall of the truck next to Blake, Nora searching through her jacket for weapons. Pyrrha has tied Blake's hands, but hasn't bothered to restrain her in any other way. Blake won't run.
"Who are you?" Pyrrha asks.
"Ilia Amitola, former White Fang lieutenant," she says, looking at them in disgust.
"Former?" Pyrrha presses. Pyrrha is an interrogator by nature if not by training, and she knows which questions to ask.
"Left them to follow Blake," Ilia says. It's hard to tell her expression in the faint light, but Blake looks stricken.
"Why did you want to follow Blake?" Pyrrha prompts. Nora tosses another blade onto the ground and Ilia watches it fall, glinting in the light. She doesn't respond.
"Why would you –" Blake's voice breaks, and Yang forces herself not to look at Blake, because if she does she'll crumble – "how could you give up everything to follow me into the desert?"
"You really think I'd leave you to die?" Ilia asks, with a soft, bitter chuckle. "I've let go of too many people I love already. I couldn't lose you too."
There's more conversation, raised voices, but Yang isn't listening. She misses when things were simple, just a team to support and enemies to fight. But now friends and enemies are blending together in Blake's soft amber eyes and Yang is no longer sure whom to believe.