"Those who have lost the most often look for a target to blame. But none receive more condemnation than oneself."
White snow coated the black trunks of the trees, leaving the forest in monochrome. The moon hung over the treetops, its countless shards drifting freely through the night sky. A raven flew between the branches.
Black boots crunched through the deep snow. A red cloak billowed in the wind around a hooded figure, making their determined way through the woods. The path was buried in the snow, but that was alright. They knew where they were going.
The trees began to clear out as the figure arrived at a cliff face. They removed the hood, revealing a young girl's face, barely sixteen winters. Red streaks ran through her dark hair. She reached into a black corset and drew a rose, approaching the edge of the cliff.
She brushed off a large mound of snow, revealing gray stone. A headstone.
A grave.
SUMMER ROSE
THUS KINDLY I SCATTER
The girl knelt down to place the rose by the headstone. Tears wet the snow before she stood up again and began to walk back through the forest.
She could hear crunching in the snow around her, behind her. Not her own footsteps. Slowly, she turned to see what was following her, already knowing what she'd find.
The creature's flesh was pure black and gave off wisps of smoke in the wind. A canine skull, white as paper, snarled at her and bared razor-sharp fangs. Its glowing red eyes radiated hatred into her soul.
A Beowolf. Her face erupted in fury. She felt a familiar electric sensation rush over her, a red flash briefly surrounding her body. Reaching behind her back, she drew a large rectangular metal box, painted in red. A press of a button and it unfolded into a massive scythe, twice as long as its wielder.
The Beowolf snarled and charged. She rushed to meet it, carrying the scythe without so much as noticing the immense weight. A single swing and the Beowolf fell to the ground in two halves, which quickly evaporated into smoke.
More snarls and crunching of snow erupted all around her. She altered her grip on the scythe, holding the shaft parallel to the ground, and aimed the head at a red glint. Her finger found a trigger, and with a great crack, a bullet flew from a barrel in the scythe head and blew a Beowolf's head apart.
The Beowolves rushed out, charging at her. More cracks split the air and they fell to the ground, evaporating into smoke. She smiled as she shot them, one by one. But she did not see the one behind her until its teeth clamped down on her sides and lifted her into the air, the scythe falling to the ground.
The Beowolf's teeth did not pierce her flesh, not yet. Red sparks sprayed from the places where they touched her, giving off an painful electrifying feeling. The Beowolf's flesh was disgusting, like ash. She hissed and shut her eyes in concentration, and suddenly disappeared in a flurry of rose petals.
The Beowolf's jaws slammed shut and the monsters all looked around in confusion, sniffing at the ground of the forest. The rose petals drifted in the wind, fluttering towards the discarded scythe.
Suddenly, they rushed into movement again, swirling around the weapon in a cloud. She reappeared out of the rose petals with the scythe in her arms and, lunging with astonishing speed, cut a Beowolf in half. She spun around and sliced off the head of another. As more rushed up behind her, she hooked one on the scythe and pulled the trigger, the recoil cutting it in half while the bullet hit the one behind it.
The Beowolves rushed around her in a circle. She began twirling the scythe around her wrists, lashing out at whatever Beowolf got near, slicing off their limbs and cutting them apart. They screamed and howled in rage and pain.
A reckless swing of the scythe deflected back and struck her. She cried out in pain, staggering. The Beowolves seized the opportunity and rushed forwards, their claws raking her skin. She cried out in pain as they surrounded her. A mighty blow from one large Beowolf sent her sprawling, red energy crackling around her and finally vanishing. A painful emptiness filled her body.
The Beowolves roared with glee as they rushed upon her. Her eyes widened- she could practically feel the ashy, rough texture of their flesh. Everything was happening so fast.
"Yang…" she murmured, and everything went white.
She heard the noise of stone shattering. Slowly, she opened her eyes. A figure stood above her, holding a long object. She could barely make it out, but she could see that its eyes glowed red.
There was a wet noise of cracking bones and snapping tendons. A voice spoke, raspy and inhuman: "Not yet."
The figure turned and walked away, disappearing into the snowfall.
More footsteps. Someone else was coming.
She felt warm arms wrapping around her and lifting her up. "I gotcha, kiddo," came a kind, familiar voice.
Ruby Rose buried her face in his shoulder as he carried her out of the forest.
AN: Happy Birthday, Ruby Rose.