VIII
Scars
Yang and Blake sat by the cliff for a while and basked in the new day's light until their bodies again felt warm and alive. Despite the cold air, the wind was calm and allowed the rays of the sun to revitalize the two novice huntresses. They shared few words after their conversation, small talk if anything, and instead enjoyed each other's presence in a companionable still. When the sun had risen high enough to regain its golden crown, they got themselves up and prepared for the walk back to Mistral.
Blake found herself walking the perimeter of the clearing to locate the remains of the path; off close to the place where they had been sitting, Yang dialed in the coordinates of the mine on her scroll and obtained an area map to help them navigate back to the city. They agreed that it was best to record the location of the site so that Haven Academy could further evaluate the threat the mine and its Grimm inhabitants posed and deal with it if need be.
For her mission, it didn't take long for Blake to pick up on the beginnings of the path. What was once a heavily traveled footpath was now mostly overgrown and all but hidden to the common eye, but it appeared as though the trail had been partially preserved by the movements of the wildlife in the region. This was good, she thought—it meant the concentration of Grimm was low here. That was possibly why they weren't as numerous on the surface, she thought; perhaps they'd spilled into the mines by unknown avenues, where the blight of human and faunus suffering was the most dense.
Blake called out and beckoned towards Yang just as the blonde appeared to finish up with the business on her scroll.
"What's up?" she asked, eyes drifting down to the partly revealed path.
"Here's the trail," she said to Yang, hand out towards the road-become-game trail. "We're lucky; it looks like the animals here have been keeping it from completely disappearing."
"Thank you, raccoons," Yang said, smirking like she was the only one in on a joke. She then waved her scroll indicatively before pocketing it. "Comms are still weak but I sent Ruby a message."
"What did you tell her?"
"I couldn't sleep so I went on a walk," Yang said with a casual shrug, "I framed it as a patrol. Getting back this late, I know I'm gonna hear about it either way."
"Oh," Blake breathed, her expression blank. "You're not afraid she's going to be worried about you?"
Yang's easygoing smile waned and her head turned towards their expected path; she gazed off into the woods without a word for just a second too long. Blake tried to discern the look in her eyes, but it was an like trying to read a book on its edge.
"Of course I am," Yang huffed, discomfort and exasperation mixed in her tired voice. "I know she is. But she has too much on her mind to bother her with it, and… she can't help anyway." Her eyes darted to Blake preemptively. "No one can."
Blake pitched her face downwards, a frown drawing her lips and feline ears into a concerned skew. "Yang," she began quietly, but she found herself interrupted by the vigorous shaking of Yang's head.
"I know what you're going to say," the blonde cut in, her eyes still searching the woods for some nonspecific target, "and... I appreciate it. But this is something that I have to deal with on my own." Her tone descended, crestfallen, but it came across in a way that would brook no questioning. As if to remove all doubt, Yang began marching down the trail. Blake watched her back as she went, a clawing sensation in her stomach as the ears on her head flattened out. Seeing that she was getting left behind, and without another word, she fell in behind Yang and began the journey back to Mistral.
They had long concluded that they weren't going to make it back to Mistral before the others were aware that they were gone. Yang seemed certain that Ruby wouldn't be waking up any earlier than she had to, but Nora would surely have had everyone stirring by sunrise if the short time that Blake had spent with them so far was any indication. For the moment there seemed to be no response to Yang's message, so either Ruby remained fast asleep or she had simply forgotten to respond to it. Blake thought of the latter as unlikely; Ruby was attached to her scroll whenever there was downtime.
She wondered if that was still the case. For that matter, if anything was still the same as when she had parted ways with her team.
She hadn't had much time to speak with them on a personal level. Or was it inclination? Looking back, Blake was certain that she could be further along in reconnecting than she was. She was letting her anxiety and guilt restrain her, that particular feeling of having no right to engage them on a level of familiarity. It seemed disrespectful, going awol and then attempting to resume relations as though nothing had happened. She had since observed some differences in their personalities; Ruby seemed more thoughtful. Weiss was less pointed, almost soft at times. They seemed welcoming enough, simply gladdened to be together again, but her anxiety remained. If Yang could find it in her heart to forgive her, even if not entirely, then surely Ruby and Weiss would feel similarly.
Blake had but to look at herself and realize how much she had changed over the past year. And her partner, well—if someone had told her that Yang Xiao Long had become a reserved, brooding person, she wouldn't have believed it without seeing it first.
It hurt. That was her doing, wasn't it? Or was the cheer always a mask?
For whatever reason, Yang insisted on taking the lead instead. For the time since they had left the cliff side, she had been taciturn. Her eyes seldom left the way forward, and Blake was not remiss of the way her hands were clenched into fists or the tightness with which her shoulders moved. Her whole body was a tightly wound spring ready to explode.
Blake felt a knot in her chest as she watched her partner shutter herself off yet again. Not an hour ago it felt like she had regained access to Yang's heart of hearts, but now that fog of tension had returned. Somberly she wondered if the moment that they shared at the cliff was something that she had imagined. Inevitably, she began to wonder if it was something she said that had caused Yang to retreat into herself again, even after the assurances she whispered to the stalwart blonde. She meant every word, yet she knew she couldn't blame her if she didn't believe her outright. It would be foolish to believe that everything could be smoothed over overnight, literally, even after fighting through monsters both real and imagined.
As she watched Yang, her coated figure shoving through the close-grown foliage like an implacable beast, she felt the urge to speak squelched by a fear of her partner's response. A fear of coming off as bothersome. Even if she could muster up the courage to speak, Blake could barely think of the words to say. The environment was partly responsible for that. The air of the wood was loud with birdsong. Every cry and chirp and warble seemed to increase in intensity the more Blake dwelt in her own head, and without knowing it her ears were flat against her head just to help mitigate the sting of the shrill birdcalls.
At least it was a good sign; it indicated few, if any, Grimm.
Normally, Blake would be at point in an excursion such as this. The times when Yang or the rest of Team RWBY relied upon her heightened senses were uncountable, at least to her. She had since come to accept it as one of her expected duties; it was her "role" in the team, and her time in the White Fang had prepared her well for being an advance scout.
The path wended and wound. The altitude decreased and they came to a wider portion of the path that doubled back on itself as it descended the mountain face. Metal posts and wire fencing, despite its age, lingered as a rust-covered momento of the people who had carved out this route. They followed this, the bird's eye vista disappearing from view as they descended into the autumnal vale; a dense canopy of red and gold leaves surrounded them, then covered them. No longer was the walk quiet; every step brought up a crunch of fallen leaves from an ankle-deep bed. The air, crisp and cool, became muggy as well when they entered the valley.
Of course, the path was gone. If not overgrown by the foliage of the wood, then certainly buried under uncountable leaves. Silently, they both decided that the best way to proceed was forward, in a straight line, towards Mistral. Blake scanned their surroundings while her ears flexed and fanned, searching for sounds of interest or alarm as though under their own will. After a little while walking, she paused; her sensitive hearing began picking up on a distant bubbling—an indistinct but clear sign of water.
Blake was suddenly, painfully aware of how very thirsty she was. She didn't have to imagine that Yang was, too.
"Hey," Blake called, at first almost a sigh. She cleared her throat, and in a more elevated voice called, "Yang!"
She managed to capture a sullen lilac glare, and in response she pointed off in the direction that she heard the water from. Yang's features soon reflected curiosity rather than self-consumed brooding, and Blake took that as her permission to go.
She leapt through the underbrush and went swiftly through ferns and underneath fallen oak boughs, swinging around trunks and hopping roots before she finally arrived at the edge of a large stream that seemed to have its origins from the very mountain they'd just descended. Its shallow waters tumbled soothingly over large, smooth stones in its bed and the crystal clear mountain melt beckoned.
Blake dropped to her knees and scooped a handful of water to her mouth. The liquid burned like cold fire across her lips and down her throat, and she savored the relief it brought after walking, running, climbing and fighting all night without a single drink. After the initial gulp she rapidly took several more before the urgent thirst was satisfied and she could relax for a moment. Hunger was starting to bother her as well, but Blake figured they'd have time enough for that once they returned to Mistral. She wasn't even sure if she would resist fatigue enough to eat before sleeping.
At this point Yang had finally caught back up. Her heavy footsteps came to a halt off towards Blake's left, and just as it seemed like she was about to levy questions at Blake for her cryptic behavior, she saw the stream and immediately accepted its invitation. Without a word shared between them, Yang was at the bank, splashing water into her face and down her tortured throat.
Blake watched Yang with a furtive smile before looking back to the stream. The water moved swiftly at points, but its surface ran smooth enough at the bank that she could see her reflection. Her smile inverted; she disapproved her appearance, the thickness of the grime and soot on her face, and she could see that it was similarly stuck across her body.
Blake decided to do something about it, and she followed Yang's lead in splashing water across her face. Scrubbing with her palms, she occasionally pulled her hands away and watched as greasy red and gray rivulets ran down her knuckles. She repeated the process until the waters seemed to be running clear, and she waited for the waters to smooth out so that they could show her her refreshed appearance.
Staring back was a tired but otherwise young and hale cat faunus. Her black hair was still in visible distress and it would remain that way until she had access to her toiletries back at the house, and the blue eyeshadow that she was fond of had come off in the wash. Blake prodded gingerly at the bags under her eyes and tried to remember the last time she got a full night's rest.
She glanced at Yang anxiously before she considered her next action. The blonde seemed to be distracted with her own ventures, washing her face as Blake had just done, picking at her golden locks in a vain attempt to fix her hair. After a little back and forth in her head, she relented—Blake couldn't stand the feeling of partial cleanliness. Perhaps her father was right and she should have chosen her combat gear with more consideration to protection, but from the elements rather than enemy blades.
Blake shed her coat with a shrug, quickly before she lost her nerve, and she threw a handful of the chilly water over her abdomen, suppressing a hiss as the droplets lanced through her like hair-thin needles of ice. She repeated the action without a second thought, and again, and again. After the initial shock, Blake was only vaguely aware of the sensation of water running over her body, her skin now numbed by the cold.
"What are you doing?" she heard Yang from her side, amusement and confusion blended into her words. Blake had no delusions about avoiding notice, and she looked over at her with a lopsided grin that bespoke embarrassment and… a little playfulness, maybe. Yang had her arms crossed, her head tilted just so, a stern and almost matronly look to her. But then a simper started pulling at her lips. The change in expression relieved Blake, and it seemed the water had lifted the blonde's spirits considerably. But now she felt a little exposed; the flicker of those lavender irises betrayed a wandering gaze.
"You're gonna catch a chill out here," said Yang, her simper morphing into a helpless grin. Blake smiled back, slightly flustered. The concern was touching, but Blake still thought to quell Yang's protectiveness.
"I'll be fine," she said with a dismissive wave. "I spent plenty of time sleeping in the cold and damp when I was with the White Fang."
Something began to darken Yang's eyes. It was subtle, but the change was such that Blake hitched her breath. Her partner seemed distant, eyes unfocused and fixed on a point beyond the trees. The concern had gone out of them and been replaced with something dangerous. Suddenly, the smile was also gone, lips twisted by a snarl. The air around her went taut, and it felt as though the atmosphere hung on a wire about to snap.
Blake's body jumped under its own instinct as a sapling exploded a meter behind her. The sound deafened and set her feline ears flat against her head, her human pair ringing. Her muscles went tense, and splinters and wood chips pelted against her shoulderblades. Her eyes darted back behind her, widened and searching for a source of danger. Immediately she felt the sting from the debris still polluting the air.
When she could again open her eyes she looked back to her partner and gasped. Yang was poised aggressively. Smoke hissed from the barrel on her prosthetic arm's cannon, and her chest heaved under labored breaths. Beyond the gleaming arm Yang's eyes burned scarlet, their pupils narrowed to points.
Blake was frozen in place, and she was sure she ill concealed her horror; her jaw was locked in place, teeth grinding, and her eyes felt unable to blink or separate from the enraged blonde as she fought her every instinct to bolt for cover. Sudden movements just seemed like a poor idea in the moment.
Quickly as it had happened, Yang regained her faculties. Her eyes were the first thing to change as the fire burnt out and left only fearful purple irises quickly latching onto the bewildered faunus. Her stance softened and her breath evened out—stopped—when she appeared to regain awareness of her surroundings and what had just happened.
Their eyes met, each pair a different shade of fear.
"Blake!" the taller cried, almost voicelessly. Her weapon retreated, her blank expression gradually filling in as she put events together and her role in them.
"I—!"
Blake could only stare, apprehension still rooting her to her spot, tension preventing her vocal cords from functioning properly. Yang stumbled backwards over a heavy step, her face a mosaic of anger and sorrow. Just as Blake began to overcome her alarm and gathered the courage to respond, Yang whipped around and disappeared into the woods in a blur of leather and gold.
The swears in Yang's personal repertoire were legion, but no combination of them felt appropriate for describing the consequences she was imagining from her actions.
For Yang, it was about control. The past year had been spent with an emphasis on self-mastery. Control your anger. Control your actions. Control your fear.
She had been doing well, down to this moment. The realization at how suddenly and easily one could slip sent her flying from her partner. Until she regained herself, she couldn't face Blake.
Even now, she wasn't sure of what she was doing. Trees and leaves and cool air tore by her and she was only vaguely aware of it as she crashed through the autumn wood in her dead sprint. Branches caught errant strands of her hair; she ignored the pain of precious roots torn out. The deep bed of fallen leaves made it hard to keep her balance at times, and beneath the layers the occasional exposed root threatened to give her another twisted ankle. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes and the only thing that kept them dry was the wind hitting her face.
She had no idea where she was going. Yang had picked a direction and went. Somewhere, anywhere, just away from Blake. Away, before she did another stupid thing in front of her and gave her an actual reason to detach again.
The fearful look, her stiffened posture. She had seen it. Blake knew. And she couldn't know that she was this far gone.
Her lungs burned. How long had she been running at full pelt? Yang couldn't even trust her reckoning of time anymore.
Yang slowed as her legs began to give. Her better sense began to return to her, and she knew she couldn't afford to injure herself again. She came to a small copse of maples in a jog. She leaned against one of the smaller trees, breaths ragged; at her side she felt her hand trembling, and it triggered an aggressive disgust. She punched the tree with a pained scream.
Her left hand, still her own. Yang took a minute to focus on her breathing, and a warmth in her glove prompted her to relax. She pulled away bloody knuckles, having neglected her aura's protection. Still, they were in a better state than they had left the tree.
Blake's face, perplexed fear still as clear as the sun in the sky, haunted her mind's eye. Her heart felt like a burnt out piece of coal, brittle and falling to pieces. Leaning against the battered maple trunk she gently tapped her forehead to it, willing herself not to cry in anger. She knew she had to compose herself lest she attract Grimm, but Yang was finding it very difficult not to hate herself. From start to finish, the entire night had been her fault. She could face down her disability, her mother, the demons in the dark, the phantom of her friend… but she had no answer for the monsters of the mind.
She heard rapid footfalls coming up on her location. Distantly she heard them in the quiet wood, even among the sparse bird calls. They were loud, as though their owner didn't care if she was heard coming. It was very uncharacteristic of her, and even though Yang knew who it was, she didn't dare to remove herself from the trunk against which she hid her face.
"—ang!" she heard, the voice withered and frightened. "Yang!" it called again, louder and more urgent.
The footsteps stopped right behind her.
"Yang! Hey?"
She felt the warmth of an approaching hand, but her shoulder convulsed beneath it as though it was made of ice.
"I'm sorry," Yang forced out hoarsely, the words she couldn't finish collecting at the stream.
The air went quiet enough that she could hear her partner's every small breath, each tiny hitch as she hesitated for words. Yang bit on her lip as she wondered what was going through her mind. Had she ever seen her in such a panicked state? A few more minutes elapsed and her breathing was almost normal again, but still nothing was said. A minute more and Yang worked up the courage to pull herself away from the tree. Her eyes felt heavy with liquid, like the slightest provocation would cause the levee to break. It took every ounce of her willpower to not crack when she saw the desperate look in Blake's reflective eyes, the lilt of her catlike ears, the tension and sag of her posture replete with a helpless sadness. Blake wanted to reach out to her, that was plain to see. Yang wished she had something to suggest.
"Are you alright?" Blake asked, her voice even but low, like she knew she was treading dangerous ground.
"I—"
No amount of spinning excuses would explain what Blake had just seen. Yang knew better than to write Blake off as a fool, which was exactly why she tried to remain aloof around her. Around everyone, really, but Blake especially. More than ever, the situation they were in was too serious to interrupt with her emotional issues. Like everything else, like she always ever had, Yang resolved to work through it as they dealt with other things.
Moreover, she didn't need to be giving her teammates reasons to doubt. Facing down Raven and bringing back the Relic gave everyone some confidence in her abilities.
Everyone, except her.
In a split-second, she had revealed the extent of her damages, and now Blake had to know that the scars ran deeper than the arm she had lost. At least in those times she could mask the pain with stoicism. But when the images hit her, when her nightmares visited in her wakefulness, her muscles would cede control to fear. She damned the betrayals of her own brain, and she wanted to scream again, but for the sake of not hurting Blake any more than she already had, she fought it down. Down, down until it hurt only in her core. She focused on the pain in her left hand, bruised bones and split skin.
Yang took a shuddered breath.
"Every day, I feel less and less like myself, Blake," she said while combating her trepidation. Her eyes panned about, a token effort at making sure that they were still on their own. She knew on the inside that Blake would know long before she if they were in any danger, but she wasn't unaware of the way the faunus seemed to be making her into her singular focus.
Blake looked dejected briefly, like she couldn't find the words for a response and felt the worse for it. Instead of speaking she tried again to put a hand on Yang's shoulder, approaching slowly.
This time she allowed it, or rather her body did. Her muscles were tensed into rock, but as soon as Blake's gentle touch landed she felt her thawing influence. Yang glanced at Blake's hand, and gradually she let herself sink towards her. She kept her eyes forward, avoiding contact.
"Please talk to me, Yang," Blake murmured closely. "I need to know that you're okay."
I'm not, she thought. But I have to be.
Another minute passed without words, but Blake waited patiently while Yang did a poor job of repaying that patience. Through her half-lidded eyes she watched Blake, trying to read her queues. The faunus continued to apply gentle strokes to her shoulder through the hand that she had cupped upon it, quietly waiting for a response from her. She was silent, but not unthinking. The way her golden eyes jumped around minutely indicated that she was stealing glances at her face, trying to read her in much the same way she was trying to do to her. By chance, their eyes met, and each quickly averted.
"I get… visions," Yang said, her voice vacant. The wide-eyed look she received was all the confirmation she needed.
"I see things," she continued, "or people, and I know it's in my head but…"
She squeezed her eyes shut like she'd been hit with a migraine.
"I thought you were in danger again. I can't be sure, what's real and what's not." In danger of what she didn't specify, but she thought that was understood. Yang's gaze drifted hesitantly towards the scar on Blake's abdomen.
"I get no warning," she added, deadpan. "Some things cause it. Most of the time, it just happens." She let out a breath, as though saying that was much more difficult than she made it sound.
Yang was vaguely aware of how Blake took her right hand. When Yang looked back to her, Blake had it raised close to her face. Her eyes were deep with emotion, but mostly colored with helpless sorrow.
"Did I cause it?" Blake asked, her voice even but heartbreakingly sincere.
Yang only shook her head. Words did not feel safe.
Blake shut her eyes, bringing her forehead into her prosthetic hand, and Yang became aware that her aura was probably not providing the reassurance that she deserved. She thought of offering her other hand, but she didn't want to smear her with blood either.
A wind kicked up a rustle of leaves from the forest floor. Blake appeared to become aware of the time, and she gently tugged on Yang's arm.
"Here," Blake said, guiding her towards a small clearing near the copse. "Sit down."
Yang wondered now what was going through Blake's mind. She wasn't the type to suggest anything out of the blue, so it did arouse her curiosity; she followed her direction and had a seat on the forest floor. Yang crossed her legs beneath herself, and she heard Blake's weapon tip over into the thick bed of fallen leaves besides them. The next moment, she felt a bodily warmth as Blake sat on the ground behind her and leaned up against her back.
Immediately she was alert as the gesture forced her to sit up straight. Their backs were nearly flush, and the back of her head gently met Blake's as they were adjusting their posture. After a moment of getting comfortable, Yang placed her hands on her knees and glanced around, waiting for something to happen. She looked off to her side, trying vainly to see what Blake might be doing without turning her head.
"Close your eyes," Blake instructed, no doubt sensing the unrest, and Yang took a breath and did as was suggested. The rustle of the leaves in the mild breeze was the overriding sound in the air growing in strength and then fading like Remnant itself heaved a sigh; sparse birdcalls echoed further off in the distance. Small leaves tumbled around on the floor, sometimes up onto her legs or hands. Gradually these elements of the environment began to grow more distant as the contact with her partner began to become the focal point in her awareness.
Relying only on her sense of hearing and touch, it was as though she could feel what Blake was feeling. Floating in the darkness of her thoughts, the preeminent presence within her mind was that of Blake. Her breath, her warmth, her pulse—over the minutes their respiration seemed to synchronize on its own as Yang felt every breath and subconsciously matched it. The beat of her dark-haired partner's heart drew her focus as it drummed against the surface of her skin, through the layers of her jacket, echoing in her own chest as though it was her own.
Yang was vaguely aware of the way her head was rested against Blake's, a little higher up due to their height difference. Her attention drifted outwards only as she felt the swat of one of Blake's ears as it twitched.
A sign of contentment. A warm memory pulled her lips upward. Again she wondered what was going through the other huntress' mind. Did she really want this, though? Was she ready to deal with the volatility, or was she one more episode away from leaving her again?
"How do you feel?" Blake asked, breaking up Yang's anxiety.
"I feel… better. More awake, actually." That was strange, considering her fatigue. But the way she was more attuned to the little things around her—and within herself—had a rousing effect on the mind.
Yang heard a sigh out of Blake and felt her body leaning further against her back, this time almost as if she was trying to make herself more comfortable.
"We should keep moving," Blake murmured, sounding as though she was halfway into falling asleep.
"Yeah," Yang said, scrunching her face at the lack of conviction behind her response. They passed a moment in silence before she took a small breath, finding a thought that she had to put out. "I'm sorry I made you come after me. I should've been…" She drifted, losing the thought to doubt.
"It's okay," Blake cut in, maybe getting enough to complete the idea on her own. "I can't imagine what you're dealing with. But whenever you start to feel that way, like you're losing yourself, just… talk to me."
Yang felt a little shuffling from behind her, and finally she was compelled to look over her shoulder. She found that Blake was doing the same, looking towards her, and again their eyes met.
"The Yang I know is always there for everyone." She paused, but her mouth hung open like she had words that she was reconsidering. "She was there for me," Blake continued, "Even when I didn't deserve it. So I'll be there for her. And I'll be here for you."
The next several minutes of walking did some good towards clearing Yang's head. The malaise lingered but Blake's presence helped her anchor herself to the moment. She walked ahead, leading the way back to the stream. She would occasionally glance back towards her, and each time her amber eyes were searching for a change in her demeanor. Yang did her best to meet her with a smile, each one a little brighter than the one before. Perhaps by repetition she could eventually make it sincere.
Showing it was the issue. She was already glad enough to have Blake nearby, but it felt as though her actions and attitude weren't agreeing with that position. If she did, it felt awkward, like she wasn't expressing it strongly enough. For a year and change she agonized over this missing presence in her life, and now she didn't know how to deal with her sudden return. It was like her subconscious was preventing her from fully accepting the proof of her senses, a reluctance to get too attached in the event that she departs again.
Yang had no idea how far she had bolted from the stream, but at least the trail was clear; even she could have followed the path of felled branches and the deep groove carved through the bed of dead leaves back to their origin. In her haste to follow, Blake had left her coat where it fell back at the stream. Occasionally she caught a glimpse of a shiver coming off the dark-haired woman, and each time Yang felt worse about it. The faunus was partial to warmth as it was and she was very much out of her element in this mid-autumn chill, let alone the way she splashed herself with cold water before being forced to chase her through the wood.
Quietly, Yang undid the buckle on her collar. Blake looked back at her when she pulled the zipper of her armored jacket open, her eyes questioning. They had their answer as Yang removed and draped the riding jacket over the faunus' bare shoulders.
"Th-thanks," Blake whispered, trying but failing to hide her embarrassment. Yang a chuckle at her partner's blush and offered a squeeze through her jacket's padded shoulder.
When they reached the stream's perimeter, Yang had expected to find it as they had earlier, but Blake's posture going alert made it clear that that wasn't going to be the case.
They came to the edge of the clearing. Yang measured her footfalls, trying to match her partner's stealthy gait. She crouched slightly behind Blake when they came up to the edge of the clearing. Up ahead, a lone Beowolf sniffed around the bank, nosing at the heap of Blake's coat and the remains of the blasted tree near it.
"Oh. It's just one?"
"Yeah."
It would be trivial to take out a single Beowolf between the two of them. Either it was wandering, scouting, or it had picked up on the altercation earlier and been led there.
"Let me take care of this one," Blake murmured as she slipped out of the borrowed jacket.
"Careful," said Yang as she took her jacket back from Blake, the two silently agreeing on the next step. Blake took Gambol Shroud from its clasp and Yang simply heard her vanish off to her side. Yang continued to observe the Beowolf.
So far it seemed completely unawares as to their presence. Yang stayed behind the small maple they'd crouched behind while Blake was, to the best of her knowledge, about halfway around the clearing. When Blake didn't want to be found, it really was nearly impossible to do so. Knowing that, it was surprising that she was able to detect her the previous night. She must have been off her game…
A strangled yelp drew Yang's attention back to the clearing, just in time to watch Blake land at the end of a long arc with the ribbon of her weapon in hand. Said weapon was currently embedded blade-first in the side of the Beowolf's throat, and a sharp tug later it tore out what would have been its jugular if it were a creature of flesh and bone. With a sigh of the wind its remains scattered into the trees. Blake's weapon hit her hand with a smack and was stowed with practiced ease. She looked around, and when the faunus was satisfied she glanced in Yang's direction and tilted her head.
"Nicely done," Yang offered with a short nod as she emerged.
"It was just a Beowolf," Blake replied with a shrug, still finding a smile to offer. "It doesn't top the way you held off all those Grimm in the mine."
"Yeah, but I couldn't have snuck up on it like you did. At least his pals won't come looking for us now." A pack of Beowolves was only ever a howl away. Dealing with the loners and scouts quietly was the best way to go.
"Besides," Yang continued dismissively, "it wasn't that big of a deal anyway."
Blake walked past and didn't respond with words immediately, but the doubtful look in her golden eyes told Yang that her partner saw right through her false modesty.
"Listen," Blake said, her attention turned towards the woods, "You don't have to push yourself to your breaking point. You have nothing to prove to me. I trust you with my life more than I trust you with your own."
Yang stared after Blake, her mouth half open and unsure whether to issue a retort or a thanks. While stopped to put her coat on, Blake shot a look back at Yang, and there upon her lips was a small smirk. Yang responded by looking eminently unimpressed, but on the inside she felt an ember of nostalgia stoking a stronger flame.
Yang walked up to Blake's side. She looked distracted, and she noticed how her ears were fanned out as though straining. She held her breath, thinking it might be a distraction to Blake's concentration. A few moments later, she had to refresh the air in her lungs, and she looked towards her partner with a little exasperation.
"Everything okay?" Yang asked after she noticed the distracted look on Blake's face. In turn, Blake gave Yang a look that might be concerned, if it was certain.
"I hope so," Blake said, her eyes darting between Yang and the woods beyond the stream. "Let's keep moving. I'll let you know if I pick up on anything."
Yang nodded and Blake moved on ahead. She took a few steps to follow and paused; the small tree she had blasted was near her side. Yang gave it a long look, and her right hand flexed repeatedly as though in recollection of that incident. She took a breath and sighed.
"Come on, Yang!" her partner called from further ahead. She glanced, then looked back to the splintered trunk and her hand. She clenched it into a fist, renewing her determination, and then jogged along to catch up to Blake.
This update is a bit late and my sincerest apologies for that. I had a relapse as far as my illness went, blasted stubborn cold, and I was just completely out of it on my normal editing days. I did say I was wrapping this soon but I seem to have found some more story lying around. I hope this doesn't harm the pacing or the structure of the story. If you have any thoughts, I am always receptive to reviews and messages. I appreciate the support and I hope you will look forward to the next installment!