Chapter 1
Fleeting Shadows
(A/N: This story was inspired by the writing prompt "Blake's clones won't go away", and takes place after an alternate Volume 3 where Blake still ran away, but instead of losing her arm, Yang was severely injured in a brutal fight with Adam. She lost the use of her right arm, received a life threatening stab to the chest, and was in critical condition when Blake last saw her. This narrative takes place a few months after Volume 3, and while it borrows from the same canon as "The Petals Scatter Now" and "The Patchwork Prodigy", whether it actually takes place in the same continuity is entirely up to you. I hope you enjoy. God bless)
Thunder clapped outside while the torrential downpour pummeled the little stone outcropping. Nearby, a Beowolf howled, signaling that it had found prey, and the faunus who had seeked shelter hours earlier in the small cave hoped she was its target.
"Why did you leave?" demanded the shadowy figure. "Why do you always leave, Blake?"
"I-" her voice caught on the back of her throat and began to sob bitterly. As a lonely child, her best friend since she could remember had been her shadow. The only 'person' who never judged her and was even more miserable than herself, until recently that is.
"Go away!" she screamed, covering her ears and curling into a ball beside a pitiful excuse for a campfire. "I'm sorry..."
The shadow stretched across the cave's wall, almost like a monster hovering over its prey. "Is being sorry going to make everything all better?" her voice snapped back. "Is being sorry going to make up for all your misdeeds with the White Fang? In eighteen years, has running away from your problems ever solved anything?"
Blake whimpered, which the shadow accepted as her answer.
"You can hardly live with yourself right now. How do you think she feels? You left her, Blake. She was dying in your arms, and you left her dying in a hospital bed because you couldn't stand the guilt you felt looking at her. You left her when she needed you. You always leave people when they need you most."
"Ya-" The name still hurt too much to speak aloud. "She doesn't need me."
"Of course she needs you!" The shadow creeped across the cave floor toward her. "She saved your life and all she got in return was a useless arm and a machine breathing for her. You couldn't even stay long enough to thank her!"
"I DON'T WANT TO THANK HER! SHE SHOULD'VE LEFT ME TO DIE! I WOULD'VE RATHER DIED THAN-"
Something reminiscent of a boot was driven into her chest, and she feebly held her arms up while unable to breathe.
"I wonder if Yang regrets her decision. I wonder if Yang can go a day without thinking about having a blade tear through flesh and cut through bone because of you."
"Please stop..." she wheezed.
"Not until you start listening," her own voice hissed back. Thunder crackled overhead, and the Beowolf howled again, closer than before. "You haven't slept in days. You haven't eaten besides what you could forage for even longer, and at this rate you're going to die of either hypothermia or pneumonia before that Grimm even gets the chance to tear you to pieces."
Almost able to breathe again but not quite, Blake began coughing and her fit didn't stop for several minutes. Her clothes were soaked and her body numb, but her head blazed as though it were on fire.
"Are you finished?" asked the shadow impatiently. "Punishing yourself isn't going to help Yang, and neither will dying. It's certainly not going to redeem yourself."
A familiar eight was lifted from the young woman's shoulder, and she cracked her eyes open just enough to see a butcher's cleaver dangling over her.
"Would you like to do the honors, or should I?" The ribbon of Gambol Shroud wrapped around her throat, cutting off any answer she might've given.
"How many times did Yang let you get lost in her aura?" the shadow continued. "How many times did she say with and without words how much she loves you? How many times did she call you her sister when you didn't deserve such an honor? Even now, Yang would take you back and forgive you in a heartbeat, but if you die she'll never forgive you. Is that what you truly want?"
The girl coughed, her face beginning to turn a bright shade of red, but the shadow seemed to understand her.
"Blake Belladonna, you are self-loathing, self-centered, and selfish. Notice a pattern? Yang forgave you for anything and everything you might've done with the White Fang before you could even tell her all the terrible things you'd done. She would forgive you even now, but you wouldn't be able to forgive yourself. That's the real reason you didn't blow up that train with all those passengers. Not because of the innocent people who would've died, but because you wouldn't have been able to live with them on your conscience, just like now."
The shadow turned just as another shadowy figure lumbered into the cave. Blake's tearful eyes stared at the beast that practically had to crawl just to enter, and the fire was snuffed out as an unnatural, evil chill filled the air. The Beowolf almost appeared to smile at its prey, revealing row after row of pointed teeth, but didn't seem to notice the shadow hovering over her.
"What will it be?" she asked the helpless girl. "Time's almost up."
The Beowolf howled as it leaped, and its helpless prey closed its eyes, perhaps content that while it wouldn't exactly be a painless death, at least it would be quick. Maybe...
Blake gasped for breath as the ribbon loosened around her throat, and opened her eyes just in time to see the beast dissipate in the air above her. She glanced at the shadow wielding her blade, and white teeth flashed where her mouth should've been, and for a moment she could see a reflection of herself. Something she hadn't seen or wanted to see since the day she abandoned her friends.
The shadow gave her a helping hand to her feet and quickly embraced her. Warmth engulfed the girl, and a familiar, cheerful voice came from the shadow's mouth.
"Always remember, Blake," the memory of Yang echoed. "Always remember that you are loved totally and unconditionally. When you don't feel like you deserve to be loved, or when you don't even love yourself, always remember that your friends love you. And it doesn't matter how far you run or what you do. We'll always forgive you even if you can't forgive yourself."
The girl sobbed into the shadow's shoulder, who had grown several inches since being embraced. A calloused finger touched her cheek, and gently began wiping away the tears. Gambol Shroud was returned to her shoulder harness again, and slowly Blake raised her head.
Amber eyes stared into amber, both with puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks. "It's not that far of a walk," the other said. "If you hurry, you might still make it in time for dinner. On a windy day you can smell her dad's cooking, but you still imagine she's the one baking the burnt cookies anyway."
Blake nodded, and took a step toward the mouth of the cave and the unforgiving storm when a strong arm turned her around.
"I'll be waiting for you," said the girl with lilac eyes and hair made of gold, winking before disappearing. "I'll always be waiting..."
(A/N: Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed. "The Prodigal Stray" is a story that just popped in my head one night and I decided to see where the idea took me. Originally it was going to resemble canon more, but writing a story with Yang having lost her arm just didn't interest me, so I decided to make a few revisions to canon. I thought Yang nearly bleeding to death in Blake's arms would affect her more, and I like the idea that her injuries were sacrificial and due to a hellacious battle with Adam.
RWBY and this story's cover image, the silhouette of Yang from the Yellow Trailer, both belong to Rooster Teeth.
All credit for this story goes to my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, who has blessed me with this story and such wonderful readers. God bless)