IX

Unconditional

Yang stared into the translucence of her scroll. Ruby's unresponsiveness began to chisel at her calm exterior. Despite their nearing proximity to Mistral, signal integrity remained poor, but it wasn't completely absent. They were definitely on the outside edge of the kingdom's local comms network.

Whatever unease Yang felt, it strangely wasn't for the predicament that she and Blake were in.

At least here, she and Blake had the agency to handle whatever predicament may arise. If something was underway back in Mistral...

Odds were that Ruby was safe among the rest of their teammates. And Qrow, and even Ozpin. But malign thoughts dwelt at the back of Yang's mind; horrors that they were only now discovering filled the world and ventured closer to home than they could have ever anticipated, and that was on top of the dangers they were already aware of. It wasn't that she didn't trust the others to keep Ruby safe if it came down to it, but for so long had the duty been hers and hers alone that anything less than her constant vigilance felt like a dereliction.

"Anything yet?"

Yang returned to the moment. Blake's eyes flashed from over her shoulder, a gleam of gold in a tawny wood. Yang was certain that her partner had noticed something about her tenuous emotional state, but Blake wasn't showing it. Yang stowed her scroll.

"Nothing." Yang sighed and rolled her eyes. "Are there no relays out this way?"

"It doesn't look like there's a lot of anything out here." Blake stopped and set a hand on a nearby tree, her fingertips digging at the grooves of the bark. Yang cocked her head, wondering if there was a significance to the way Blake interacted with the environment.

"I guess not. There don't seem to be a lot of Grimm out here." Yang tossed her gaze about the remoteness. "Not a lotta people either."

"Maybe that's why," said Blake, shrugging. "This close, you might as well live in the city and avoid the dangers of being outside the defenses."

Blake was still distracted. Her vigilance only grew since the time they regrouped. Yang watched her warily but kept her thoughts to herself for the time. Instead of needling her partner, Yang settled on observation; if Blake had something to report, she would.

Mistral was a hiker's dream, or nightmare. A tumbled landscape of mountains and valleys, cliffs and ravines, the terrain became increasingly difficult to navigate as the two junior huntresses neared the capital. The rich bed of soil fed by undisturbed forest detritus thinned out and became something rocky and less capable of rooting thick foliage. The stream that sated their thirst did a fine job of leading them in the most direct path to the city before it took a dive into a ravine and could no longer follow it. At an impasse, they followed the broken earth towards the north along the cliffside. Eventually, that path led them down another incline that fed into another wood, far enough into the valley that the morning sunlight had yet to surmount the surrounding peaks. What would otherwise be a tranquil forest ablaze with the colors of fall instead became an ominous thicket, shrouded with a fog that seemed to wash the warmth out of the reds and the golds.

After nearly half an hour they were in this fog enshrouded valley. Yang checked the map on her scroll to try and determine their location, and as close as Mistral seemed it offered no respite, as the terrain made it so they were essentially no closer than before.

They continued along, relying on Blake's senses. Despite the intense focus on things Yang could not perceive, Blake continued to frequently take measure of her temperament. On cue, Yang offered up some sign of reassurance. A smile, a wave, some confident tic she had perfected through repetition. It was a simple act, brushing off her own feelings. For the sake of normalcy, and because explaining would take too long, it was practically reflexive.

Providing a stable home for her baby sister didn't afford Yang a lot of time to dwell on her own heartaches. And although Yang knew she always had Ruby, there were things she simply couldn't discuss with her. Ruby needed someone brave and confident to stand up for her, and she couldn't go breaking down and forcing her to doubt her role model. Yang knew that firsthand; she knew what it was like to find the path in the dark, alone.

There were some things she wore on her sleeve. Vulnerability wasn't one of them.

But Blake was the exception. She was always the exception. Perhaps it was because Blake tolerated her without complaint, or even gravitated towards her. Maybe it was because Blake made her feel like the exception. Blake was not amicable towards anyone in the beginning, and she had her pick of partners due to her stealthy nature—and she had picked her. Yang Xiao Long, loud and radiant and eminently un-Blakelike.

The more Yang grew to know Blake, the more obvious it was that her choice was deliberate. What was never clear was why. Even after owning up to it, Blake still hadn't revealed the why.

Being wanted was a novel feeling, and addictive.

She felt a little guilt for the elevated level of concern that Blake showed her. She didn't want pity, and she didn't want others to waste it on her. It was why she hid her anguish and kept it close to her chest like a losing hand of cards. Eventually, she knew, someone would call her on her bluff—and that someone was bound to be Blake Belladonna. She knew, because Blake also played that game.

Yang's thoughts eventually brought her back to her recent break. Blake had every reason to doubt, but still she showed. The memory of her warmth sent a calming wave through Yang. Her right hand came to rest above her heart, metallic fingers mindlessly curling into the collar of her jacket. Suspended curiosity, as well as a lack of care for the growing tension, prompted Yang to break the silence.

"Back there," she said, "where you had me sit down. That was a meditation, wasn't it?"

"Something like that," Blake said, halting and throwing a glance back at Yang.

"I thought it was. It felt like it."

"I suppose it could be." Blake halted and faced Yang, running her hand through her ebony hair. "I suppose that's exactly what it was."

"Where did you come up with the idea?" Yang asked, her arms folded loosely.

"It's a trust exercise I learned when I was young," Blake said, smiling wistfully. "My parents taught it." Blake approached Yang. Slowly she began to walk around her. "You sit quietly near to the other person so that you can't see them," she said as she stopped, standing back to back with Yang. "—but you can feel their presence. It's apparently something that couples do to strengthen bonds, reduce anxiety." Blake tipped her head and sighed. "I... didn't know how to reach you. Words seemed worthless. Then I thought about that, and I thought I'd share it with you."

Yang waxed thoughtful for a moment, but it would not last; she could not suppress the smirk that played upon her face. Her brows went askew.

"Couples, huh?" Yang said, utterly scholastic with her observation.

Blake's features faulted, her error realized, and in a heartbeat she went from sentimental to stricken. Normally cool golden eyes widened with an alarm rarely seen, and Yang's smirk grew into a grin.

"O-or partners," Blake said, quietly. "Combat partners!" she added quickly. Blake's indecision did not convince, and it seemed she knew because she avoided Yang's eyes. The pressure that had been building in Yang's belly could no longer be contained, and she put a hand on her chest and laughed. Her mirth echoed in the shrouded wood for what seemed like a solid minute before she finally began to quiet down; when Yang came down from her high she beheld Blake with ears flattened and face colored in rose red. Yang felt the tiniest mote of remorse for her embarrassed partner.

"Aw, come on, Blake," Yang said as she stifled a remaining cackle. "Don't be mad. I'm actually really flattered!"

Blake shot her a scornful glance in spite of the ember glow of her cheeks. Her stare hardened for a few seconds, then she whipped herself around with a huff. The grin faded from Yang's face, replaced with a relaxed smile. She stared at her partner's back as she grew farther by steps, and Yang hustled to catch up.

"Hey!" Yang said as she closed the distance. "Are you alright?" she asked, evening her breaths out after jogging the short distance. "You're acting a little short."

Blake didn't dignify Yang with a glance. From where she stood, Yang could still see a bit of color still tinting Blake's cheeks, but the latter kept her eyes straight ahead.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Blake said through set teeth. For a few suspenseful seconds, the only sound between them was the rhythmic crunching of the dead leaves and twigs underfoot. Blake's footsteps were more measured and quiet than Yang's careless stomping. The remains of Yang's mirth fell to the forest floor and she reached out for Blake.

"Really, Blake," Yang said, eyes dark. "Are you okay?

Blake stopped and swiveled her head. Their eyes locked for a moment, and then Blake had her gaze away and scanning the area for some unseen mark.

"Do you hear that?"

Yang felt her stomach drop. Unknowing of what Blake was referring to, she closed her eyes and tried to focus on her other senses. She attuned with the invisible elements of their environment as if in meditation. A slight breeze among boughs of dying leaves, the ghosts of summer rolling about the forest floor…

"No birds," Yang concluded. The utter silence was deafening when she noticed it. Blake gave her a severe look and nodded in the affirmative.

"It could be a coincidence," Blake said, keeping her voice low, "or it could be that there are Grimm nearby."

That explained Blake's gradual but strong shift towards caution. That also explained Blake being cross over her guffawing in the field, although Yang always did wonder why Grimm aren't repelled by nice feelings the way they are attracted by bad ones. Seemed like an unfair double standard...

"Remember Mountain Glenn?" Blake asked while she continued to search the distance.

"Yeah." Yang ran a hand through her hair, finding it hopelessly tangled. "Good times," she said sarcastically.

"There were Grimm that lingered on the perimeter of Vale. Close, but never near enough to trigger the city's defenses. Prof—" Blake halted and reconsidered her words. "—Doctor Oobleck mentioned to Ruby that they were prodding for weaknesses and waiting."

"So it's probably the same here, and we're on Grimm turf."

"That is the assumption we should be going with."

Yang put her hands on her hips and thought. Mistral practically loomed over them now, but they were at a much lower elevation and the fog made it hard to see more than ten feet in front of them. Again, Blake was a valuable member to their tandem, and it was here that Yang was again thankful to have a partner like her.

"It sounds like there is another ravine between us and the city," Blake said while motioning towards the northeast. "We could find it and follow it around… and hope that yet another one doesn't wait for us." It sounded like Blake dreaded the thought of backtracking as much as Yang did.

"What kind of Grimm should we expect here?" Yang wasn't totally ignorant of her bestiary, but she was mostly familiar with the Grimm of Sanus and the areas surrounding Vale, not Anima.

"The kind that we don't want to find," Blake said without irony. "Especially when we're this run down." Blake unsheathed Gambol and popped the magazine, counting her rounds. "You're low on ammo, aren't you?"

Yang pursed her lips ruefully, but she nodded. "Out of shells, running low enough on Dust that I'm holding back." And she never held back.

Blake made a sound in her throat like that was the answer that she expected, and after a short nod she looked off towards the direction their walk was taking them.

"I'll try to make sure that we don't get ambushed," she said, "but even if I do pick up a warning we'll only have a few seconds."

Blake took half a step forward and stopped; she glanced back at Yang. Her coat's high collar obscured most of her face, but there was a concerned gleam reflecting from her golden irses.

"Yang," she said, her voice loud in the still, "you don't have anything to prove. Okay?"

"Blake, I—" Yang measured her words and took a breath. "I'll watch myself," she said slowly. "But, I'll do what I have to."

Perhaps she thought that was the best she was getting out of Yang. It didn't seem to satisfy Blake's concern, but she nodded and continued in the direction they'd agreed on. Yang rolled her shoulders and quieted, putting herself on alert as she fell in behind her partner.

Yang's skin was dewy with the residue of the morning brume. She put away her scroll after repeating her vain vigil for a response from her sister. The time read 08:01, and in spite of how close it seemed Mistral never felt so far away. They'd chosen a path that brought them close to a cliff's edge, and it seemed to follow in a wide trail around the dale from which the city rose. If they could make out what waited at the bottom of the canyon, Yang would have half jokingly suggested they try to make do with a landing strategy. But the fog was still too thick to see through, and she knew Blake would never agree to taking the jump into an unknown destination. Instead, they wandered a ways away from the cliff and continued north.

Yang's best recollection was that she had left the city through one of the southern gates. The moon hung high in the east when Blake found her much earlier in the morning, so they were possibly approaching the region from which they were lost to the world.

A twitch from her partner up ahead pulled Yang from her thoughts. Blake's spine straightened out and her head swiveled, scanning the fog banks. Her ears flattened back, and for the first time since they'd spoken Blake took a step back.

"Blake?"

"Incoming!" Gambol Shroud practically leapt to her hand.

Yang's eyes darted to the ground. Was it shaking? A steady gallop, at first imperceptible, grew stronger, and reflexively Yang engaged Ember Celica. She had no ammo, but at least the gauntlet could put steel behind her punches and a layer of defense on her flesh. Her bruised knuckles throbbed but she put the pain out of mind.

A shadow of hunched muscle and bone crashed through the trees and out of the gloom. Red eyes gleamed from a skull-like facade and a fanged maw announced murderous intent as it immediately attacked Blake.

A broad hand attached to a tree-trunk arm smote the forest floor like thunder. Blake slid to a halt off to Yang's side, a shadow clone having eaten the deadly blow. The lines of Blake's face were determined, but there was real worry in her reflective eyes. Blake glanced over to meet Yang's gaze.

"Beringel," Yang said, refocusing. She remembered the list of 'Grimm to punch' she had written up in her more juvenile days.

"A big one." Blake edged back as the creature seemed to realize that it hadn't turned her into paste. "Yang, we have to—"

"Kill it!"

Blake shot her a glare, disapproval plain. "We're in no shape to!"

The Beringel reared up to its full height and roared. It beat its armored chest, and the force of it cleared the fog around its sinewy form. It settled with a pound and stalked forward. The monster resembled a great ape, but it was twice, maybe three times as large. Few had been observed due to their limited range, but their humanlike anatomy made them one of the more dangerously versatile Grimm one could encounter. Presently, it tore up the ground with its knuckles and prepared to charge.

"I can't outrun it," Yang said. "You can. If things go south, promise me you'll—"

Blake shook her head furiously. "We are not thinking like that." She turned towards the oncoming Beringel and split her weapon into its constituent parts.

Yang smirked and kicked off her lead foot. She barreled towards the Beringel, and the size difference between them couldn't have been more comical. Yang was barely as large as one of the monster's arms.

She didn't take her eyes off the creature as they came within striking distance. Because of its greater reach, the Beringel had to be the one to make the first move. Its right paw came up over its head, and Yang broke left. The ground veritably exploded on her right side, but she was now beneath the creature's arm with its exposed flank and practically all day to play.

She dug into its side with a quick combo of punches; jab, hook, straight, each hit a massive beat on a kick drum. Yang ducked the retaliatory sweep from the hulk, a huge forearm darkening the sky. Wide lavender eyes tracked Blake as she ran on the outside of the fight, firing shots from her pistol as Yang held the monster's attention. It helped to divide the Beringel's aggression and gave Yang more time to apply damage. When Yang had its full attention, Blake dove in with her blades and left an angry line or three with quick slices delivered in circular patterns. But its hide was tough, much tougher than the King Taijitu. At times it sounded like Blake was striking rocks.

Their arena wasn't generous with space. The trees were numerous and tall, but they bore small trunks, which made them ideal victims to the Beringel's huge, unrestrained blows. They also made it difficult for Blake and herself to maneuver evasively, but the unimpeded Beringel just smashed through the offending trees to get at them.

As canopies crashed around her and the ground became increasingly difficult to dance around on, Yang felt a cold sweat sticking to her clothes. Off and again she shuffled within the Beringel's arms, each time delivering another series of rattling hits, but she found herself forced out by the threat of a grapple. Yang remained aware that she could only weather a couple of hits from this creature, and its hot breath bore down on her and reminded her of the constant danger. She took her shots whenever its sides were exposed, and she felt the increasing fury with each swing and slam that came for her.

Her eyes narrowed and her smile widened as the danger grew. The angrier the Beringel grew, the more in control of the fight she was.

In flashes she caught Blake's eyes, and in those moments they tried to communicate wordlessly. A flicker here, a nod there, and Blake continued to take potshots from the Beringel's blindside. From a weapon with as small a caliber as Gambol, Yang wasn't sure if it was doing any good.

Yang stutter stepped back out of the range of a broad-handed slap. Wind rushd and debris kicked up; her back straightened and she swapped her stance as she anticipated a blow from the opposite hand.

It came from the fog and dirt cloud, as expected, and Yang rolled. She struck out with a overhand punch as she came around, and Ember Celica rang loudly as it struck the Beringel's forearm square on the bone. She thought she felt a give, and a roar shook the area; the Beringel charged its mass into Yang unexpectedly.

Yang barely had the time to gasp before she was bowled over hard. She vaguely registered the sound of Blake crying out as she rolled forward, thumping loud in her ears as the Beringel attempted to pound her into the ground. Yang whirled to her feet, behind the Beringel after tumbling out between its legs. Seeing her next move, Yang dashed up the creature's sloped back and swung her shin into the side of its head at the apex. A loud crack mixed with bellowing as she followed through, forcing the Beringel's head to give way to her kick. Yang sprang off its shoulder and had another one in the chamber when things went wrong.

A crushing force came down around her following leg as she spun in the air. The next moment she was hurtling through the air. The world blurred into a smear of autumn watercolors, grays and blues. All she knew for certain was that she needed to project her aura, and her senses flashed white as branch and bough broke against her body. Everything came to a jarring halt, and her ears rang.

When the world stopped spinning, pain radiated from all of Yang's extremities. A flame swirled deep in her chest, stoked and angry, but her aura pulsed weakly. She was vaguely aware of the shaking ground and primal bellowing coming from an indeterminable direction. Yang gathered her broken senses and tried to force herself to her feet, but her body rebelled against her commands. She felt no serious injury, but Yang was aware of the severity of her position.

"Blake," she said, coughing. She forced her eyes open, and though her face fought back with a wince she was able to observe the ongoing battle. The Beringel hadn't come to finish her off because Blake had cut in.

"Yang!"

Blake watched helplessly as her partner flew in a near flat arc, breaking several trees in half along her path before finally coming to rest in the fog beyond her vision. Anger and panic filled Blake's heart as she seized her weapons in a white knuckle grip. She exhaled, Gambol snapping into its swordform as she pushed her emotions beneath the surface of her thoughts.

Blake flashed forward, covering the ground between herself and the Beringel faster than she thought possible. The creature failed to register her approach, and Blake took the opportunity with intent to kill.

Like Yang, she ran up the slope of the Beringel's back and raked her blades along the path she took. They let out a satisfying rip as she yanked them through, and she kicked off as the Beringel tried to seize Blake like it did her partner. It found only the very end of Blake's coattail, and Gambol whirled in after Blake's departure to gash the creature for its effort. The Beringel spun and flailed its hands at the annoyance, trying to seize on something, but Gambol was back in Blake's hand by the time she landed. A couplet of shots pinged off the Beringel's bony face, and it roared in some Grimmish oath as Blake led the creature further away from Yang's position.

Her eyes flashed to the broken line of trees Yang left. Blake battled every urge to fly to the spot to make sure that she was okay… or alive.

That thought she fought down as well; of course she's alive.

Blake didn't entertain the alternative.

The Beringel charged. Blake thought quickly and dashed up the nearest tree. A large hand connected with the trunk and snapped it like cheap lumber, and Blake leapt off a shadow copy in a way that carried her over the Beringel's head. Her blades flashed like twin fangs and Blake swept them down the Beringel's back again as she descended. She ducked under a retaliatory swipe and spun away, black edges launching threatening crescents, her ribbon the only indicator that she had been in that spot to begin with.

Still there was no stirring from Yang's position. A cold fury took Blake as she lunged forward and let a shadow copy eat the incoming swipe from the Beringel. She dove inside the monster's reach. Her short blades allowed her to play havoc while she was within its range, and several strokes left angry red marks along the creature's black flesh. Its armor was heavy, however, and its hide was thick enough without it. Grunt and roar and slamming limb forced Blake to find a retreat, and she leveled Gambol's barrel and pulled the trigger.

The action clicked uselessly. The slide locked in its uncharged position. Blake's eyes went wide, her focus falling on her spent weapon, and the pause cost her. She had only enough time to throw her aura up against the remains of a felled tree flying through the air. It made impact with Blake and with a cry she was thrown off her feet.

Blake squeezed her hands around her weapons to avoid losing them, but her senses blurred around the edges. Her consciousness guttered like a strangled flame and she willed herself to stay aware as she hurtled. Blake gauged her momentum in order to try and stick a landing.

Her body then hit something—something hard yet gentle and warm. Blake coughed and winced her eyes open, and next to her face was Yang's as she glared ahead at the stalking Beringel.

"You okay?" she asked, her lilac eyes smoldering but calm.

"Yeah," Blake said, letting her feet touch the ground. Her first step went unsteady, and Yang braced to catch her. But there was no need, and Blake looked at their approaching antagonist.

She grimaced, looking at Yang as though for a hint. The rushing of wind was vague in her head as it throbbed. It appeared that her partner avoided any severe injury, but Yang was looking much like she felt. Her aura had to be low.

Yang prepared to kick off again when Blake reached out and caught her shoulder.

"Wait!"

A severe look followed Blake's words, and Yang, impatient, stared.

"The ravine," Blake said, her ears fanning in the direction of the howling air.

Revelation washed over Yang's face, a certain peace as a direction became clear, and she nodded. "I'll bait it," she said, and when Blake released her Yang pushed off her lead foot for one last dance with the Beringel.

Blake watched the opening exchange with hesitation in her chest. She did the hardest thing she'd had to do all day and tore her eyes away from Yang and her monstrous opponent. The forest blurred around her as her feet flew, and her faith that Yang would hold out was all she had to keep her focused.

Yang devoted all her available energies to her senses. Any mistake here would prove fatal, she thought. Every ache and pain now licked about her heart like wreaths of flame, and the temptation was strong to go for a decisive blow.

In younger times, she wouldn't have hesitated. She would have ignited her body like a solar prominary. She would have flurried the Beringel into a fine mist with such stellar fury as no one had witnessed before. Yang would have walked away from the smoldering crater into the awestruck gazes of her teammates, grinning smugly as her aura whisked away.

But that was another life. Yang had already counted one use of her semblance that day, and she had the opportunity to recover afterward. Even now if she managed to strike the Beringel square in its body mass, Yang wasn't sure that it would be enough to kill it. Even if she did, they were still far from home; she would be a liability. Her aura would be spent, and what if they came across another of the fiends?

No. She let that little flame continue to tickle at her heart and complement its thunderous beat.

Foliage went up as Yang skipped over a fallen tree trunk. The Beringel moved with deceptive quickness for its size, and with the power it brought to bear it almost seemed unfair to Yang that a single Grimm should have so many advantages. It was fortunate that they were usually solitary, though Yang couldn't help but entertain the horror of a colony of Beringel somewhere out in the godsforsaken wilds. It was either her fatigue or the skull rattling blow she'd sustained that made her grin stupidly at the idea.

Newly dead trees littered the forest floor like a calamity had swept through and torn the wood down. It resembled more a timberyard than a forest now, and it made the footing treacherous. She could use that to her advantage. One of her common tactics was to knock the foe off its feet and hit it with a devastating haymaker, but the Beringel was square enough to the ground that such a feat would have been nearly impossible. Even if Yang did manage it, the advantage would be so brief that it'd be a waste of time and energy.

But that was without all the tripping points now available.

Stepping back out of the Beringel's range, Yang kicked her heel to roll a fallen tree into the creature's path. Somehow, its forelimbs tangled in the broken tree and it fell on its chest with a choked snarl. Yang grinned and took the opportunity, delivering a savage front kick into the Beringel's exposed face.

The impact shook Yang to her core and she thought she saw a tooth fly, but she didn't stick around to meet the Grimm's wrath. She felt its roar behind her like the heat of a flame, and she sprinted off towards the ravine. Yang figured that thirty seconds was enough of a head start for Blake to prepare, and she bounded along while dodging obstacles with all the speed that she could manage.

The trees became more and more sparse until Yang could see the edge of the cliff ahead. Mistral loomed beyond the fog like a lone mountain, and behind was the thunderous gallop of the Beringel. Despite the speed with which Yang was running, the sound of trees snapping like twigs grew ever closer behind her. Yang lowered her head and pushed harder in spite of the burning numbness in her thighs and calves.

Somewhere between the wild drumming of her heart and the crashing at her back, Yang felt the rumble of her scroll in her jacket pocket. Her eyes darted, but she refocused. Ahead, Blake bolted across a gap in the treeline, her ribbon trailing behind her and slack enough that it settled into the ground.

Blake was ready. There was no doubt in Yang's mind that Blake knew that they were coming. Her incredible senses made all this possible.

With barely a word they'd set their plan. Now Yang simply needed to play her part to completion and they'd be walking away.

Adjusting her path, Yang took a few leaping steps before making gravity surrender its hold on her. Airborne, she twisted as the shroud on her prosthetic released her hidden cannon.

The Beringel was practically in her face. It was one step from being within reach of her, and it surprised her since this was the only way she dared to look back in its direction. The Beringel's hands flailed just clear of her feet as Yang went horizontal, and with her right arm leveled at the creature's face she lined up a shot.

A flare of fire Dust whistled from her arm cannon and exploded in the Beringel's face. Smoke and flames danced from its visage, and the creature lost its balance and barrelled blindly.

The recoil sent Yang hard to the ground. Her vision flashed. The impact forced a strangled sound from her throat as air escaped her lungs, and she tumbled along the rocky ground. Her metallic fingers dug into the stone and loose earth as she slid, trying to slow her careening. A snap followed and Yang watched the line of Blake's ribbon pass over her head as she skidded past the point of no return.

The Beringel, its mass driving it forward, shook its unseeing face angrily as its limbs tangled in Blake's line. Its momentum betrayed it, and it lurched forward. The seismic force with which it hit the ground shook dust from the cliff face itself.

Yang's feet went over the ledge. She clawed deeply into whatever handhold was available to her, and her movement halted violently as her body flailed over the cliff. Close behind her, the Beringel's grunts came in rapid sputters as it tried to regain its footing, but its enormous body tumbled just clear of Yang's head, over the precipice. The sky was blacked out for what seemed like forever. When the light returned, Yang found herself alone at the cliff's edge.

The Beringel's roar lingered in the air long after the flailing shadow disappeared in the brume. As violently as it had emerged the Beringel vanished, and the thud of a body dashing against the rocks smothered the sound of its rage permanently.

Blake recovered herself, thrown by the weight of the Beringel as it tripped over her line. Realizing that Yang's aura had broken, she practically threw herself towards the cliff. Gambol clattered to the ground behind her as she stopped short of the precipice. She shot a hand out to Yang as the trade winds Mistral was famous for ripped at her hair.

"Yang!" she cried, her eyes filled with relief. Yang was far from safe, however. She dangled an unknown hundreds of feet above sea level, her body buffeted by a wild wind. Her chest heaved as she worked to catch her breath. The cliff face was sheer and afforded little space for regaining one's self. In spite of all this, Yang gave Blake a cocksure grin, half delirious.

"Stop smiling and get up here," Blake said, her expression confused between a scowl and simper. Her ears flared towards the far side of the cliff. Blake's face relaxed as her concentration drifted.

A distant buzz. Distant, but rapidly approaching.

"Lancer," she said as though in a daze. "Yang! We need to go!"

Yang would have nodded if the angle afforded her the gesture. She grimaced as she tried to secure her handhold with what little she had to work with. Blake had a hand on Yang's right, which had dug deep furrows into the stone. The other Blake held out, but Yang seemed unsure of being able to get her left hand up to it. Her body kicked about in the strong winds and made any attempt at moving treacherous.

Blake became aware of other sounds behind her. She glanced back and saw a half dozen approaching shadows. Beowolves, she knew before even looking.

Surrounded. Blake grit her teeth and again offered her hand. Yang deepened her breath and threw her left hand towards Blake's. Their fingertips brushed. With the move, the ground beneath Blake's left hand gave way. Alarm shot through her like fire as the rock in Yang's grip began crumbling.

"No," she said weakly, and both her hands went to secure a grip on Yang's arm.

The earth broke further.

"Blake?"

Their eyes met. Blake's frightened gaze met Yang's and found it placid. A small smile played on Yang's lips, but the soft furrow of her brow made it look sad. Apologetic.

Blake drew a breath as dread hit her.

Yang exerted herself and made a small jump upwards, but her handhold broke and interrupted her. She reached out with both hands, and Blake groped desperately at air as Yang's arm slipped just clear of her. She watched Yang carry away and disappear into the Mistral fog.

An awful scream tore the air. The crack in her throat told Blake it was her own. Somewhere in there was Yang's name. The sound cut out, leaving only the wind's howl.

Ice water trickled into her veins.

Blake sat back on her heels in horrified silence as her mind struggled to process events. She stared, eyes unfocused but for the images that replayed before them. In the aftershock, her heart wrenched so hard that her breathing seized. A numbness envenomed her limbs.

"Yang," she said, heedless of how pathetic her voice was. She heard no impact, no sound of a body breaking against the rocks like with the Beringel. She clung to a hope that had been stolen right before her eyes. Ways of finding herself at fault inevitably began to work their way into the rapid fire recollection in her mind. She could have secured Yang with her ribbon. She could have used her semblance. She could have… she should have...

The Beowolves with their snarls brought her out of her shock. She looked behind herself, dazed. Blake realized she still had her life. Though she felt like it never mattered less, she took up Gambol Shroud and made ready to defend herself. Yang wouldn't have it any other way.

Six Beowolves; prey, she thought contemptuously. They must have sensed her anguish pouring off of her like a cloud and relished, but Blake would not give them the satisfaction. She bared her teeth as the first of them lunged.

Blake did not get to satisfy her bloodlust. The first Beowolf exploded into mist mere feet from her. The other creatures took heed, and Blake became cognizant of a whistling sound as another round from the fog ruptured another of the Grimm.

The buzzing sound. The Lancer.

Blake glanced over her shoulder, and her mouth fell open.

A Lancer hovered just over the cliff's edge, but it was not the typical Grimm; this one shone with etheric light and gave off a frosty blue cast, and Weiss Schnee rode astride its back. Ruby Rose stood behind her, her bright red cloak flapping wildly in the wind and silver eyes afire; in her hands, Crescent Rose sought its next victim. And alongside the two of them...

"Blake!" Yang shouted between cupped hands, atop the wide abdomen of the summoned Queen Lancer. "Line!"

Blake stifled her emotions. Without a further doubt, Blake winged Gambol using all the strength she had left. Yang caught it with practiced ease, as she always ever had, and wound the ribbon around her wrist. Blake did the same, and she saw Yang give Weiss some kind of signal. Blake felt her feet lift off the ground as the Lancer ascended. A few more shots popped free from Crescent Rose above before the snarling ceased.

Blake was vaguely aware of the way she was being hauled up onto the summoned Grimm. When finally she was over the creature's body, she fell into a crushing embrace.

"I'm sorry I did that to you."

Warmth filled her as she realized who it was. Slowly Blake's hands came up and she returned the hug with as much force as she could muster, but words were out of the question for the moment.

"Good idea, by the way," Yang said. "You nailed it."

It was all Blake could do to keep herself from falling apart. Despair, anger, hope, and relief all hissed about like the smoke from a burnt out wildfire in her heart. In spite of her tattered emotions, Blake managed to feel one over all: relief. The sensation of Yang's arms about her anchored her to reality and helped her shove the the self-blame and horrible what-ifs out of her mind.

"That was a close one," Ruby said with a sigh. She sat back down and clung to her partner, who seemed a bit stiff-shouldered.

"I can't believe you two," said Weiss, her face incredulous as she shot a glare towards the back. "Literally a few days back together and you're already getting yourselves into trouble?"

"Yeah," said Yang, grinning from over Blake's shoulder. "Nice to see you too, Ice Queen."

Weiss rolled her eyes, but something resembling a smile passed over her face, a knowing gleam in her blue eyes. Blake wondered, but before she could ask Weiss went back to guiding her Lancer.

Before them, Mistral became clear as they burst out of the fog and bore towards the southern gates.

Ruby looked between Weiss and Blake and Yang. After a moment of gathering energy, she shot her hands up and grinned.

"Aw yeah!" she said cheerfully. "Bumblebee's back together!"

I'mma be real with you all, I considered ending this chapter when Yang fell. That would have been a delicious if unnecessarily cruel cliffhanger (or failed cliffhanger?), and the appearance of Iceflower wouldn't have been as dramatic a rescue if it was at the start of a chapter. We could also just say that Yang fell for Blake, huhuhu. What do you think? As always, reviews and feedback are always welcome!