A/N: Shoutout to my new favouriters and followers. Merlin of Tarre and Zombiekiller52. Thank you for your support!


The Wolf in Sheep's Clothing

Chapter 6.5: No Goodbyes?


Quietly in this sunless world, the coyote looked around, turning full 360 degrees, confused, and tail down. Its snout twitched in this stale air, there is nothing to indicate where it was. It howled, hoping to receive a cry in return – but silence was all it received.

The ground under its paw was soft, vegetation were in small patches in random places. But something about this place made the young coyote uneasy, its fur bristled.

It easily blend in the darkness, with its raven-colored fur and hints of violet. The pattern on its fur, was one similar to a twisted version of the moon of Remnant, located on its hind legs.

Its multicolored eyes gleamed brightly in this darkness. And they blinked when it heard its name.

"Tara, come here."

It perked up, ears swiveling. The tail now wagged a little as it distantly recalled the voice. The voice that always gave it warmth and comfort it needs.

Now acting on its primal instinct, it ran across the land, fast and quiet as its soft padding cushion, or rather mute most of the sounds. Suddenly, the moon appeared in the sky, its luminous light shining on the coyote like a natural spotlight.

Finally, after what seemed like years, it spotted a small dot in the horizon. Its screaming muscles begged the animal to stop.

But the coyote won't be stopped. Not when the voice it knew was there, just waiting.

It ran up the cliff before crossing a bridge, and met a person halfway. It howled happily, and leaped into the woman's arms like a kid. Her hand caressing the soft fur on its form.

Mom…mom?

The curls of the woman's long hair, tickled its ears. For a few minutes, they stayed like that – just feeling warmth from each other. Their eyes were closed – and they didn't see the bridge rotting away, as invisible enemies sawed the hard ropes away.

Nor did they notice the glowing red eyes of Grimm glaring in the darkness – of the bottomless chasm they stood above.

Look out! Please, please, the bridge! It's breaking apart! MOM PLEASE! DON'T LEAVE ME!

The human Tara's pleas fell on deaf ears – neither can pass the boundaries set by the laws of nature. The woman, almost similar in appearance with the coyote's human appearance. Except for her clothing – it was more of a regal gown, one fitting of ancient royalties that once walked the Remnant in its past glory.

The coyote yelped and nuzzled the woman. In a slow motion, countless ropes that supported the swaying bridge – snapped. The woman noticed the sudden shift of footing, became alarmed and clung one of the ropes with one arm. The other with the coyote who became very still as it bare its sharp fangs to the Grimm lurking below.

Can you hear me?

For once, the woman's head turned to the human Tara's direction – who was floating in the air like a phantom. However, the central heterochromia eyes of her mother were glazed.

The human Tara's heart broke into tiny little pieces again.

The dream played like a broken tape. In slow motion, the woman threw the small coyote over her head, her semblance, the cloth that wrapped around its form, flickered slightly bluish. And the creator, released her grip and free fall into the chasm with a mutter of blessing to her daughter.

And the phantom Tara closed her eyes, the shrill screams and cries of pain from both the animal and human pierced the night like symphonies of music of parting.

XXX

The sixteen years old teenager woke up in cold sweat and sat upright immediately. Her head pounded, forcing to bow her head low to ease her pain for a while. She wrapped the blanket around her form, as if it could protect her from the haunting dreams.

"…Shitty." Muttered the teen. "Gods…" Her hands were clenched and the thin blanket was twisted roughly. The cold draft from the cracks of the glass windows were not doing her any favors – and the young orphan stare at the white, enchanting light from the moon, that had gathered in one spot – like it always did.

Something about its light always calms Tara down – and for that, she loved it.

After several minutes in daze, Tara shook off her sleepiness and slipped off the comfy bed which she and her mentor once bought from a garage sale years back. The orphan glared at the cracked mirror when she walked passed – hating everything about herself.

The now exposed neck, reflected the scars that littered across her neck in crisscross – they were nicks and cuts from people who thinks they are part of the higher beings.

Who thinks they can play god.

She scoffed. Whoever they are, they are good as dead – Logan has made sure of it before his passing.

And if there are leftovers – Tara gritted her teeth – revenge will be sweet.

If it weren't for Logan, she wouldn't have known where the scars come from – and probably never will.

Tara walked silently across the creaky floorboards, careful to place her weight with each step properly for stealth. And opened the door and walked out of it, with the intention of climbing to the rooftop, just to stare down at the small village she will leave later, permanently, when the first light comes.

If it was a few hours back, there will be lights in the homes. Now only one house still lit – it was a tavern.

In another four days – Tara smiled wistfully at the cracked Moon – she will be in Haven Academy.

It was weird – on the way she has managed to graduate one day earlier than most of her batch. She only placed her head on her knees, thinking back to the events that led her to her acceptance in Haven Academy.

XXX

The leaves rustled from the breeze, its brown, yellow, orange of fallen leaves crushed from her black boots. A duffel bag, on her back, weighing little with her meager belongings. Around her waist, were her weapons she designed and modified with pride. Carried in one hand, was a small bouquet of flowers. It was a bizarre collection – one the orphan handpicked herself from a flower shop.

White heather, yellow heather, azure hydrangea, orange poppy, and yellow rose – two for each colored flower. The collection did not fit, but the florist who was well versed with flower language, only gave Tara a small smile and nod.

The teen orphan halted once a familiar shape grave met her sight.

"I'm back," called out Tara, her voice hollow.

It felt like it was only yesterday, Logan passed away peacefully in his sleep.

She didn't even have the chance to say goodbye.

A breeze came and went – successfully bringing her back to the present.

'Welcome back.'

Tara simply smiled and walked forward, posture straight as her lilac scarf danced freely behind her. It was weird, hearing his voice in his head.

Something that reassured her all these lonely years, that Logan Rose is watching over her.

Tara placed the bouquet on the ground and patted the medium-sized mossy rock with a sense of longing. Then, she sat next to it, and leaned back. "Do you like the bouquet?"

The wind came and picked up speed. And the leaves swirled upwards in a spiral before flying off to their next adventure. One of them, somehow, settled on her outstretched palms.

'Very thoughtful of you. I appreciate a more variety of flowers.'

Tara chortled. "Really? But it's the thoughts that counts!"

Save for an occasional chirping, there was silence. Tara crushed the rotten leaf in her hand and opened her hand, scattering it to the wind.

"It's the thoughts that counts…" repeated Tara softly. "Am I doing the right thing?"

The wind slowed a little.

'About?'

She bit her bottom lip. "I want revenge. I hate myself, people see me as a monster, a garbage. Most Faunus thought I was a wannabe Faunus, and the humans see me as a monster, clad in…" She choked and sniffed, "What's wrong with me? I shouldn't care…I have survived worst."

The wind sighed.

'Tara, it's easy to get lost in this…revenge. Once you start, it is a never-ending cycle.'

For a moment, a specter of Logan Rose stood in front of her, his form translucent under the morning light and the corner of his lips, curved upwards. 'You, my dear friend, are someone I am proud of.'

The orphan reached a hand to the ghost, and met nothing. "Even in afterlife, you still manage to comfort me."

She took a few deep breaths and stood up, brushing the dirt off her scarf and pants. "Thank you."

A weak breeze.

'No goodbyes?'

Tara circled the rock with her fingers with a sorrowful expression. "I will be back."

I love you. Tara added in her mind.

She closed her eyes. It was easy to imagine she was only going out of their rundown house – only to run back in and give him a tight hug – and later in the evening, he would search her, and find her either singing or dancing or training in the forest where natural light shone on her light a spotlight – and coaxed her back with a simple promise of cooking an omelette, or they stayed out until twilight for training – exhausted, but smiling all the same.

"…I will bring a better bouquet next time."

The wind laughed in her ears.

'I will hold it to you.'


A/N: First short story for this RWBY fic. I hope you readers enjoy it.

Now to answer a review.
Merlin of Tarre: -blush- Thank you!

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Total words: 1583