Try as they might, Weiss knew their flight would be harried. Even if they avoided most of her father's guards, his horsemen would still be at their heels, running them ragged. They would have to make a stand eventually.

Regardless, they ran across the windy hills of Vale, in the vague direction of the city.

"We can't go back to Vale!" Blake shouted. "It'll be infested with guards!"

"There's nothing there for us, anyways!" Yang loudly concurred, her voice nearly stolen by the wind.

Weiss remained silent, focusing on her breathing. She turned back to Ruby, hoping she'd be able to come up with something.

Ruby was sprawled face-down in the grass, several meters behind them, unmoving.

"Watcher's cane—" Weiss whirled back around and sprinted back to the smith, "Ruby!"

She fell to her knees beside the fallen girl, frantically looking around for any pursuers. With no small effort, she managed to flip her onto her back, where she could see her chest rise and fall with disturbingly shallow motions. Her breaths came out shaky and thin.

Another pair of bodies quickly joined her at the fallen girl's side, the blondest of them leaning forward to take both of Ruby's shoulders into her hands. With no sense of tenderness, she shook the smith's shoulders. "Ruby?" Yang almost-yelled into the unconscious girl's face. "Ruby! Are you okay? Look at me!"

Blake pushed the overly enthusiastic Huntress back, earning her a burning crimson glare before Weiss put herself between them. "She's lost too much blood," Weiss stated, "We need to find someplace safe."

"No shit, princess," Yang growled. "But we're going to have your people breathing down our necks in a matter of minutes!"

"But sitting here and yelling about it isn't going to do anything," Blake added, slinking around Weiss to lay a hand on Yang's shoulder. "Weiss, you're from here, is there anywhere we can take her?"

Weiss bit her lip, mentally summoning the many different, often conflicting maps she'd studied in her life. Among all of them, though, was one commonality: "The Emerald Forest."

"You've got to be kidding me," Yang groaned. "That is hours away, Schnee— on the other side of the city!"

Weiss nodded, her cerulean eyes brimming with danger as a plan festered in her brain. "Hours, on foot."

Blake turned to the heiress with a worried frown. "What are you suggesting?"

Weiss rose to her feet and stretched her fingers. In all honesty, she wasn't very confident in her sensory magicks, but she didn't have much of an option. "Yang, you're a pyromancer, yes?"

Yang recoiled in surprise. "Wh— how did you know?"

Weiss raised an eyebrow. "I can smell it," she stated, taking a deep whiff to confirm— smoke, acid, and the scent of burning iron.

"Okay… well, I'm an ignifer," Yang corrected with a glance towards Blake. "I don't have any formal education, though. I just do what comes naturally. Don't know much about magic itself."

Weiss wrinkled her nose at the fay term, but kept her disapproval quiet. "It doesn't matter, just throw some fire into the sky."

"That'll just get the— ooooh," Yang smirked and nodded, her eyes sparkling a devious lilac. "I can do that."

"Should I be worried?" Blake asked, receiving simultaneous answers from her two conscious companions.

Weiss, with a shaky half-smirk, "We'll have to see."

Yang, with a beaming smile and a sparking thumbs-up, "We'll be fine!"

The fay groaned and slowly rose to her feet, drawing a shortsword from Ruby's belt in the process. "Princess," she called.

Weiss hummed and turned her way, finding one of Ruby's swords being offered from Blake's hand.

"Give me my knife back," Blake requested, though it sounded like more of a command. When Weiss tentatively traded the fay's knife for Ruby's sword, she sent the fay a wary, awkwardly grateful smile.

"Everybody ready?" Yang asked over her shoulder, her sparking palm raising high as her arm began to twitch, barely throttling the Huntress' magical power.

"Ready," Weiss answered, focusing on her Aura as she prepared to spread it wider than she'd ever done before.

"Sure," drawled Blake, her small knives deftly twirling between her fingers.

Yang's smile spread wide on both sides, baring her teeth so much that it began to look painful. The sparks in her palm began spraying like a fountain, waves of heat distorting the air as a small, glowing ember materialized above her hand, then suddenly burst skywards.

Weiss initially frowned in disappointment, but her expression faded as the tiny glowing ball climbed, growing in size with each passing second. Yang let out a long huff as she dropped her smoking arm. "There," she muttered, satisfied, "that should do it."

Barely a moment passed before Yang's words were proven, as the fireball crested to the height of its skyward arc, glowing so brightly that Weiss' eyes struggled to compensate, then began to violently sputter. The sphere of flame hung like another sun, throwing wild sparks before it flickered, then burst.

Weiss had to guard herself against the heat as the fireball exploded, casting wide arcs of searing flame across the sky and thick waves of smoldering heat to the ground. If the circumstances weren't so dire, Weiss would be content to stare in amazement at the magical show, but she had a plan to execute. So, with her arms spread wide, she began to exert her Aura.

Weiss pushed her manifest soul from her body and spread it wide, forcing it to coalesce into a thin veil around her group. It didn't like that, of course, but Weiss made it stretch nonetheless, drawing a strained groan from her throat. The Aura flickered and buckled, nearly flaring out before she took a tight hold of its edges and brought it to the ground. Thankfully, Weiss managed to keep it from tearing as the veil covered them. Hearing shouts and whinnies around the nearest hill, she began to impose her will upon the Aura.

"Pass through vision, pass through light," she recited in a whisper, each word sending a resonant thrum through her soul. "But herald not my form to sight."

The shroud about them vibrated, but otherwise, nothing changed. To Yang and Blake, nothing had happened at all, and they were just standing in an open field like a bunch of rubes. "Uh… Weiss?" Yang called from the side of her mouth. "Did you do something?"

Weiss hissed and pushed out with her arms, sweat beading on her brow as the shroud begged to collapse back into her body. "Of course I did!" She seethed, her eyes screwed shut as she tried to maintain her concentration. "Not all of us— angh— are as flashy as you, you oafish… stinking… dimwitted… salacious…"

Yang listened to the heiress blather on, straining as she managed to pull fresh insults from her seemingly bottomless well of unpleasantries. Her fist tightened with each new offense, but a familiar hand on her shoulder quickly snuffed out her ire.

"Look," requested Blake, dipping her head in the palace's direction. "They're coming."

Yang turned, tuning out the heiress' continued onslaught of increasingly verbose insults as she laid eyes upon a familiar sight: half-armored horsemen, five of them this time, kicking up dirt and grass as they charged directly to dropped into a low stance, the action mirrored by Blake.

"Are you sure it's working?" Yang asked the heiress.

"Of course it's bloody working, you poxy, waterheaded, brothel-stalking tribade!" Weiss hissed as the hooves came closer.

"Wow," Yang sarcastically muttered. "No wonder Ruby likes you."

"What did you—" Weiss grunted as her lapse in focus nearly allowed the shroud to collapse. "J-just shut up and let me concentrate!"

Yang scoffed. "Oh please, you're doing fine."

"Yang," Blake scolded, batting the Huntress. "Shut up."

Yang's mouth hung open for a good few seconds, but she clasped it shut and firmly set her eyes on the encroaching riders. She held her dagger tight. They were close.

The horsemen pulled their steeds to a steady trot as they approached the group, their heads turning with confusion as they approached the invisible group. The one on the end turned to his comrades, saying "Shepherd's tits… I know it came from over 'ere."

"No, this must've been where it came from," the one in the middle replied. His accent was airier, he had long white tassels falling from his shoulders, and his skirt of plate had an illustrious brass inlay; whether by rank or by birthright, he lead this group. "We can't all have mistaken it."

The other four nodded, but kept looking around in confusion. "So…"

"I'm going to drop it," Weiss whispered. "Get ready."

"Did anyone else 'ear that?"

Weiss brought her arms close to her chest and shut her eyes. "Now!"


AN: hey the horse guys are back!