On the Run

The flames sputtered, flickered, and ultimately died from the end of Trixie's wand.

"Trixie's out of dust!" Trixie snapped. "Rarity, check my pouches."

If Rarity felt that rummaging through the pouches on Trixie's belt looking for more phials of dust was beneath her dignity, she didn't let it show. Her voice was cool and calm as she said, "Any preferred type of dust, darling?"

"Trixie will take anything at this point," Trixie muttered.

Her hands were full; in her left hand, she still held the Atlesian Colour of the Fourth Battalion, while in her right hand, obviously, she held Abracadabra and was loath to put it down or away, even if it was temporarily useless without dust.

In the meantime, as Rarity bent to her task, the grimm were advancing. They had reached the makeshift barricade of the Fourth already, and they tore at the rough palisade of furniture and other odds and ends, while the Atlesian troops who had manned the barricade had fallen back a little, firing at the heads of the grimm where they could see them, taking advantage of the delay imposed by the barricade without exposing themselves to grimm fangs or claws.

They were still in a line, although it was a rougher line now, almost a clump in places, grouped around the Colours and around Colonel Harper. The Colonel stood on top of an abandoned flatbed truck, firing her pistol from that elevated position.

Her pistol clicked. Trixie wasn't the only one who was running low or out.

Colonel Harper tossed the pistol aside and switched her sword into her right hand.

"It's been an honour," she said softly.

The grimm continued to tear at the Atlesian barricade, to pull it aside, to pull it apart. Any part of the grimm that was visible, head or leg or anything else, instantly became a target, shots ringing out from rifles and from Starlight's Equaliser, but though grimm yelped in pain and ash clouds rose up from behind the barricade, still the grimm kept tearing down the obstacle that stood between them and their prey.

Trixie could feel Rarity's hands rummaging around behind her — until they weren't anymore.

"I'm afraid you're completely out, darling," Rarity said apologetically, as though it were her fault somehow.

Trixie scowled. At times like these, she really wished that she had more control over her magic powers. If they came when she really needed them, then they would come now, for sure, but how to make them come, how to get the best use out of them when they came, she didn't know.

She didn't know, and she wished she did.

Still, no use crying about it. The audience didn't care what your vision was, only what you put on the stage.

"Never mind," Trixie declared as she thrust her thin white wand into her belt. "The Great and Powerful will just have to put on a show without the pyrotechnics. Starlight, lend me your bayonet."

Trixie wasn't entirely sure why Starlight had a bayonet, considering that Equaliser had a perfectly good melee mode, but Trixie was glad that she did now, considering that Trixie didn't have a close quarters weapon.

"Here," Starlight said, firing a blue bolt from Equaliser before reaching behind her back for the bayonet.

It was a sword bayonet that could be held in the hand like a long knife as well as fitted to a rifle.

Considering that Trixie didn't have a rifle, that was all to the good.

The grimm tore through the barricade. In the short term, that made them more vulnerable, as they opened up holes through which they could be seen, aimed at, shot at.

Eventually, though, it would mean they could rush down the street with nothing in their way.

Trixie wrapped her arm around the flagstaff for a moment, letting the colours rest upon her shoulder so that she could use her hand to adjust her hat on her head. It was important that it was at the right angle, the brim overshadowing her brow just so.

Trixie glanced at Sabine, who looked like she was getting ready to use the staff of the colours as a club if the grimm got too close.

And she looked at Rarity, not part of their team, not even a huntress, someone whom Rainbow Dash had told to stick with them because she would be safe with a powerful team like TTSS.

"Rarity—" Trixie began.

"No, I don't think I will, if it's all the same to you," Rarity replied, as the moonlight glistened on her slender blade. It glimmered, too, upon the golden bracelets she wore on both her wrists. "After all, even situations like these — especially situations like these — require a touch of glamour about them, don't you think?"

Trixie didn't argue the point, although she might have said there was enough glamour about this situation even without Rarity.

She looked around her teammates: Starlight, switching Equaliser into polearm mode once again; Sunburst, who had also run out of dust and was ready to use his staff as a club; Maud, not technically part of their team, who had never been a part of their team, but who also in some weird way felt as though she was, or had been, or could have been.

"I love you guys," Trixie said.

Starlight smiled out of one corner of her mouth and winked at her.

Sunburst managed a wan smile of his own.

"You are the veins running through my marble," said Maud, which made no sense to Trixie but sounded really nice all the same.

Doors and furniture dragged from the houses were splintered and shattered, the metal of cars hauled into place was rent with squeals of protest. Grimm faces appeared through gaps in the barricade, teeth bared, daring the diminishing Atlesian fire.

Then the grimm stopped; they seemed to look up, over the heads of the Atlesian troops, and as they stared, a howl of dismay tore from their multitude of throats.

Trixie looked back. She couldn't not look back; she couldn't just ignore whatever it was that was so paining the grimm, that was wounding them or frightening them so badly. She looked back, twisting her shoulders, and her blue eyes were drawn upwards in time to see the dragon plummeting down through the night sky.

It wasn't diving, no, it wasn't swooping down on its prey or breathing out destruction upon those down below. Not diving, not swooping, but falling. Falling on its back, falling without moving, falling as Trixie thought that she could see ashes starting to rise from its body.

The dragon fell, plunged through the air like a falling star, only this was the answer to their wishes, not a granter of them.

The dragon fell out of sight as it dropped behind the buildings somewhere closer to the Red Line.

It fell, and it did not rise again.

It was … dead.

The dragon was dead; somehow, someone had managed to kill it.

The dragon was dead, and the grimm were horrified. They just stood there, letting the Atlesians shoot them, letting themselves get picked off over or through the barricade. They stood there and watched the skies where the dragon had been before it fell down, dead.

Trixie's grasp tightened on the colours. She wasn't sure what to expect next, when the grimm got over their shock as they certainly would, as they were bound to, right? What then? Trixie could imagine them letting out a massive roar of rage and charging with all the more intensity to try and avenge their champion, determined to tear limb from limb anyone who came in reach as punishment for the outrage.

But there was no roar, there was no great anger, there was no vengeance. Instead, there was growling and snuffling and a sort of wordless grumbling muttering as they ducked behind what remained of the Atlesian barricade, using it for cover as they started to slink off into the night.

"Did … did we just win?" Sunburst asked.

"Let's not get overconfident," Colonel Harper said. "But, even if we haven't won, I think it's possible we may have turned things in our favour." Her voice rose. "Reoccupy the barricade! Keep a watchful eye for the return of the grimm. I'll contact General Ironwood, although he may be aware of this already."

"Sir," said Cunningham, "the dragon has dropped off sensors."

Ironwood took a step forwards. "It's what?" How could they lose track of such a massive grimm?

"One moment, it was in the air over the … former Freedom Gate," Cunningham informed him. "The next, it disappeared, sir."

'Disappeared'? A grimm that size couldn't disappear, not on land or sky. A seaborne grimm might slip away into deep water, but on land?

Was it possible that…? Ironwood didn't dare to hope it, not after everything that his forces had thrown at the dragon in vain.

"Get a drone out there, right now," he ordered. "I want visuals."

"Aye aye, sir."

It didn't take long. That was, perhaps, the one advantage of the battle having moved so close, into Vale itself. There were no other advantages, gods knew, but with the fighting now so close, it took no time at all for a drone from Valiant to reach what had been the main gate through the Red Line and into the city of Vale.

Cunningham brought up images from the drone's camera on the main viewscreen, temporarily blotting out the maps of the battlefield and the dispositions of the clashing forces.

Through the cameras, Ironwood could see the remains of the gate itself, destroyed by the dragon, just as he could see, if only from a distance, the detritus of the panicked rush through the broken gate, all those who had been too slow, who had lost their footing, who had been trampled by the frightened herd.

And a little way off, just beyond the gate, he could see the dragon itself, the architect of the gate's destruction, of the breaking of the Green Line, of the retreat to the Red Line. So many of their heaviest losses in this battle came down to this one monster.

And now, this one monster was lying on its back, having crushed a suburban district beneath its bulk. Its head was looking up towards the sky, motionless.

Its whole body was motionless.

Motionless and gently smoking.

Someone on the bridge whooped triumphantly. Nobody chastised them for it, certainly not Ironwood. Had he been a younger man, he might have shared the impulse. It was dead then, it was dead, the dragon was brought low, but how?

It was only as he wondered that that Ironwood noticed the figures standing next to the dead dragon. They were very small, set against the enormous bulk of the dead grimm — that was why he'd initially overlooked them — but they were there nonetheless. Huntsmen and huntresses, he thought; they had found some way to succeed where his ships and weapons had failed.

Oz, he thought, would never let him hear the end of this when he learned of it.

Then Ironwood remembered that Ozpin was dead, that the old man would never chide Ironwood for anything ever again, and that whoever the new Oz turned out to be might not have the temperament or inclination for it.

He would have given a great deal to be teased by Oz over this … this proof the old man had been onto something.

"Cunningham," Ironwood said. "Magnify on those people down there."

"Aye aye, sir."

The image enlarged, showing that the people gathered around the dragon — only a small part of which was now visible — were huntsmen and huntresses. None of them were Atlesian, which was a little — wait, no, there was Winter's sister, Weiss, flying the flag for the north kingdom.

When Jacques found out, he would be publicly cock-a-hoop, whatever his private thoughts on the matter. This was just the PR coup he'd been looking for. His daughter might have only come second in the tournament, but she had just saved Vale — or helped to save Vale, at the very least; if Vale was still standing tomorrow, the dragon's death would be in no small part to thank for that — and that would probably count for a lot more.

As for the others, he vaguely recognised some, recognised others not at all, and recognised Miss Rose and Miss Shimmer very easily.

Oz would be proud of them. He hoped they knew that, since the old man wasn't around to tell them so any longer, and his successor … his successor might decide they had no need of their services. So he hoped they knew the old man, at least, would have been proud.

"Sir," des Voeux said. "Colonel Harper is on the line."

"Patch me through to all commanders," Ironwood ordered, because as much as the dragon's death was good news in and of itself, what was even more important was how the rest of the grimm were taking it. How would they react to the death of their greatest weapon? Would they press forward, confident that the hard work had been done for them, or would they lose heart as they did when an Apex Alpha fell?

"Aye aye, sir," des Voeux said. "Patching you through now."

"General," Harper was the first to speak. "The dragon is—"

"Dead," Ironwood finished for her. "You saw it fall?"

"I did sir, though I'm damned if I can say what finished it off, begging the General's pardon."

"I only saw it disappear from our sensors," said Buller. "It's really dead?"

"I'm looking at drone footage of its smoking body now," Ironwood informed him. "It's gone."

"I was worried it was some trick to get our hopes up," muttered Pulleine.

"Given the ups and downs we've had tonight, I can't say I blame you," Ironwood said. "But that's not the case. It's done. And soon, ash and smoke will be all that remains of it."

"Any idea what brought it down, sir?" asked Harper.

"I've no idea how they did it," admitted Ironwood, "but it seems we have the huntsmen of Beacon and Haven to thank — along with young Miss Schnee."

Buller chuckled. "That'll put a smile on old Jacques' face, at least."

"You may unfortunately be right," Ironwood muttered. "What's the situation in front of your forces, what are the grimm doing now?"

"They let out an almighty howl when the dragon fell, sir, and it seemed to knock the stuffing out of them," Harper said. "They're slinking off with their tails between their legs."

"I've observed the same, sir," said Pulleine. "I thought it might be a feint."

"Dunnett is reporting the same, and aerial reconnaissance confirms it," said Buller. "They're retreating, sir."

Ironwood allowed himself the luxury of a smile. It was the news that he had wanted to hear all night: the grimm in retreat and Vale delivered.

Vale delivered and Atlas victorious, if with help and by the skin of their teeth.

The only thing worse than a battle won, it was said, was a battle lost, and Ironwood was glad he hadn't had to find out how true that was tonight.

Yes, there had been losses: Ozpin, Colonel Palmer, the crews of the Gallant, Courageous, Ardent, and Daring, officers and men and probably students too. A butcher's bill that he would only learn the full extent of tomorrow when there was time to call the roll.

So many sons and daughters of Atlas who would never come home, so many jewels that would never gleam again.

And yet, for all that, he would rather they had given their lives for victory than for defeat — or for nothing.

No, he could smile at this, for all that it had been a dearly purchased triumph.

One thing troubled him more than anything else: that if the grimm were retreating, that might mean that Salem's agents at Beacon were finished with their business.

He hoped it meant that they had been comprehensively defeated, but until Dash or Belladonna got in contact, he could not ignore the other possibility.

Still, until one or both of them got in contact, he would have to keep the faith and act on those parts of the battle he could impact more easily.

"Retreat isn't enough," he declared. "All ground units are to stand to their positions in case the grimm rally for a fresh assault. I don't think that's likely, but you should all replenish your ammunition while you have the chance. Tell the troops that they have given excellent account of themselves, that they should be proud, but that this is just a precaution. For the air arm, I'm afraid it's different.

"No rest for the wicked," Harper joked.

Ironwood let that pass without comment. He said, "All combat airships, fighters, bombers, and cruisers are to launch an immediate pursuit, engage at will. Run them down, ladies and gentlemen; I want them broken."

In the days of old, a commander who found themselves in Ironwood's position, with the enemy attempting to retire from the field, would have unleashed his cavalry upon the enemy, to turn the retreat into a rout. Ironwood had no cavalry, but he had airships, which were better, because unlike horses, they didn't get skittish in the dark, and they were less at risk from isolated groups of grimm rounding on them. The air units had so far played defence, in support of the ground forces. Now, he would let them off the leash.

"Ladies and gentlemen, now is our time," Ironwood pronounced. "For the sake of Vale and its security, for the sake of all those we have lost and the vengeance we are owed, harry the grimm and show no mercy. Pile the bodies high before the smoke rises!"

"Sir, yes, sir!" choruses his senior officers, before one by one, they each hung up, each to issue the appropriate orders.

"What do you think they'll make of this in the annals, sir?" asked Fitzjames softly. "A victory to be proud of or one that we just about pulled out the fire?"

"I'm not going to second guess the judgement of history, Fitzjames," Ironwood replied. "Except to say that, if it doesn't concede that our men and women — and our students too — did very well … then that I would call it very bad history indeed."

"Yes, sir," Fitzjames said.

Ironwood was silent for a moment. "Des Voeux," he said at last. "Hail Colonel Sky Beak, of the Valish."

Des Voeux hesitated for a moment, before he said, "Aye aye, sir. Hailing him now."

It took Sky Beak almost thirty seconds to reply. Either he was busy, or he didn't want to talk to Ironwood. In his position, he might not have wanted to talk to himself either.

Still, whether he really wished to speak to Ironwood or no, Sky Beak did answer him, though his voice was subdued as he said, "General Ironwood, what news?"

"Good news, Colonel," Ironwood replied. "The battle is won."

"'Won'?" Sky Beak repeated. "Did you say 'won'?"

"I did," Ironwood confirmed. "The dragon is dead, killed by Beacon and Haven students, and the grimm are retreating, pursued by my air units."

There was a moment of silence from Sky Beak before he said, "I see. That is excellent news, General; thank you for informing me." He did not sound thrilled. In fact, he sounded as though he might start sobbing. "I will … I will inform the Council, those that are still able to perform their duties, and … we must begin to count the cost of this dark night. Victory," he said. "It does not feel like victory."

"Vale will survive," Ironwood reminded him. "Isn't that a victory enough?"

"Our defence forces shattered, our fortifications breached, our commander mad … so many people dead. If this is victory, then … defeat would look worse, I suppose is your point."

"Yes, Colonel, it is," Ironwood said. "Mourn the dead, but be thankful the city lives."

"Give thanks," Sky Beak murmured. "Give thanks to who? To you and yours?"

"To any gods you might worship," Ironwood said. "And to the memory of Professor Ozpin, whose students have done him proud tonight and justified all the faith he ever placed in them."

"I see," Sky Beak replied. He paused. "I, and the Council, tried to do what was best for Vale."

"That doesn't matter now, Colonel," Ironwood told him. "What's done is done, and it's only for the historians, armchair and professional, to judge us both. If you think you've made mistakes, then learn from them; if you think you did the right thing, then stand on your record and defend it. If you don't care — which would be wise of you — then ignore the judgments of posterity and give thanks that your city lives — and regret the cost of lives paid for its deliverance."

"Indeed," Sky Beak said. "On behalf of Vale, I thank your soldiers for all their sacrifice."

There was something rather amusing about the fact that Vale, which had come close to war with Atlas earlier tonight, now offered its thanks for all their sacrifice, but Ironwood said, "Thank you, Colonel, on behalf of Atlas and all my soldiers, I appreciate, and gladly accept, the gratitude of Vale."

Colonel Harper leapt down from the back of the truck.

"Soldiers," she cried, "the day is ours!"

Starlight gasped. "Really, ma'am?"

"The grimm are retreating everywhere; Colonel Buller and Major Pulleine confirm it," Colonel Harper said. "They're running."

A broad grin spread across Trixie's face. They had won! Not that she'd ever doubted it, not for a single moment, but still, they had won. They had won! They had stood against more than one grimm horde at once, and they had won.

They had shown them all.

Trixie was still grinning as, with one hand, she raised the standard of the Fourth aloft. "Three cheers for Colonel Harper!" She shouted. "Three cheers for General Ironwood! Three cheers for Atlas, and for all of us! Hip hip!"

"Huzzah!" cried the soldiers, as a forest of fists rose in the air. Starlight cheered too, a beam on her face to rival Trixue's own, and Sunburst, and Rarity. Even Maud's lips moved, even her fists rose, though Trixie couldn't hear her.

She couldn't make out anyone's voice, only the chorus of all their voices.

"Hip hip!"

"Huzzah!"

"Hip hip!"

"Huzzah!"

"Save your hurrah for yourselves; I have no need of them," Colonel Harper declared. "You have … you have all done well. You have all done so very well." There were tears in her eyes; they didn't flow down her cheeks, but they glistened below her eyes. "Only a little more remains to do. Stand to, just in case the grimm return. I don't think that's likely, and neither does General Ironwood, but be ready just in case." She moved through her soldiers towards Trixie and Sabine, murmuring a few words of congratulations here or there towards this soldier or that, patting them on the back, sharing a joke.

She approached the two huntresses, the two teams. They both came to attention in front of her.

"Lulamoon, Silverband," Colonel Harper said. "Team Tsunami and Team Sabre. You have done the Fourth Squadron a great service tonight."

"It was Team Tsunami's honour, ma'am," said Trixie.

"And you have done what even seasoned Specialists with grey hair and spotless records can't say they've done," Colonel Harper went on. "Faced more than one grimm horde at once, survived the experience, won the battle? As far as I'm concerned, you're not children anymore; you've been baptised in fire, and I'll be astonished if you aren't wearing Atlesian uniforms a lot faster than in two or three years' time. If that's the case, or whenever you end up putting on the whites, I hope that I and the Fourth have the honour of fighting alongside you again."

She held out her hand towards them — towards Trixie, before any of them, even before Sabine.

Trixie grinned as she took Colonel Harper's hand warmly, feeling the Colonel's fingers close firmly around it.

"It would be our pleasure, ma'am."

As the corpse of the dragon continued its slow decomposition into nothing, Sunset looked around.

Ruby, of course, stood right beside her, then there was Nora, Ren, Arslan, Coco, Umber, Neptune, Gregory, but where was—?

"Weiss?" Sunset called to the only member of their small hunting party that she couldn't see. "Weiss?"

She couldn't have been crushed beneath the falling dragon's bulk, could she? Surely, she had gotten out of there in time?

Surely, their victory could not be so tarnished?

"Weiss?"

"I'm afraid I could use a little assistance," Weiss' voice answered from somewhere reasonably close by, judging by the sound.

By the sound, but not the sight, for Sunset couldn't see hide nor hair of her. "Where are you?" Sunset asked. "Are you hurt?"

"No," Weiss answered. "But my aura is broken. I managed to get out of the house, but now I'm stuck in the garden, and I … I can't get over the fence."

Umber let out first a snort, then a giggle.

"Whoever I can hear laughing, stop it!" Weiss snapped.

"Or what, little aura-less one?" Umber asked in a merry tone.

"Ignore her, Weiss," Sunset said. "Stick your sword up in the air so we can see where you are."

The tip of Myrtenaster alighted just above the top of one of the wooden fences that enclosed the suburban gardens in this part of Vale. By the looks of it, Weiss had only just escaped a flattening by the dragon's wing, which had crushed the house to which the garden she was in belonged.

Sunset held out one hand, the green glow of magic surrounding it. She fumbled a little for Weiss with her telekinesis — since she couldn't see her, she had to follow the tip of her sword downwards — but without aura, once she had found Weiss, it became easy enough to wrap her magic around, lift her up, out of the garden, and carry her through the air before setting her down in the street with the rest of them.

Weiss brushed herself off. "Thank you," she muttered.

"We should take a picture!" Neptune cried. "All of us, in front of the dragon, while it's still here. So that everyone knows it was us."

"It doesn't matter if people know it was us," Ruby said. "We don't need pictures or anything else. The dragon's dead; that's what matters. Who killed it isn't important."

"It may not be important, in the grand scheme of things," Umber allowed. "But it is our deed, and I for one would not have our valour stolen by an Atlesian pilot or a Valish officer or anyone else. I say take the picture."

"Yeah, we should have proof for our bragging rights," said Arslan.

Ruby rolled her eyes.

"Come on, Ruby!" Nora cried. "Just because the important thing is that the dragon died doesn't mean that we shouldn't be proud we're the ones who did it. We just did something important, right? Something good, for the whole of Vale. Why shouldn't we want people to know that that was us? Why shouldn't we want to be able to look back and say 'yeah, I was a part of that. Pretty cool, huh?'"

Ruby hesitated. "Well, when you put it like that … okay, but let's make it quick, okay?"

"Who's going to take the picture?" asked Arslan.

"I—" Ruby started.

"I'll do it, with my telekinesis," Sunset said, before Ruby could volunteer herself out of the photograph. "Everyone else, get into position; I'll join you in just a second."

As Sunset got out her scroll, everyone else took up places around the bony skull of the dead dragon. If this had been a horror movie, now would have been the time when the dragon would have turned out to be living yet and eaten Umber, but as they were not in a horror story, the dragon remained as dead as a bad party.

Ruby, despite her obvious reluctance, was forced into the centre of the picture by Nora, who stood at her right hand with one hand on Ruby's shoulder and the other on Magnhild. Ren stood on Nora's right, with Neptune not far away.

There was an empty space on Ruby's left, then Arslan stood beside that, with Coco, Umber, and Gregory upon her flank. They posed with their weapons, and victorious smiles blossomed on their faces as they stood, all facing Sunset, with the trophy of their triumph still visible behind them.

Sunset stepped backwards, making sure that she had everyone in frame, in focus, nobody left out or cropped or anything like that. Once she had done so, she held her scroll in the air, fixed motionlessly in place with her telekinesis, as she ran back to join the others, slipping into the empty space between Ruby and Arslan.

She drew Soteria and rested it point-down upon the ground.

Sunset's scroll flashed as she telekinetically took the picture, then floated her scroll over to herself to see the results.

It looked pretty good, if she did say so herself. She'd even managed to avoid red eye.

"Okay," Ruby said, stepping away. "We should go see how everyone else is doing. We don't know the battle's over yet."

She turned away without another word, forcing the others to follow, or simply not caring whether they did or not.

Sunset did follow, although Weiss with her broken aura did not, and understandably so.

Sunset looked back at her. "Thanks for all your help tonight," she said. "You … thank you."

Weiss nodded. "You're welcome."

Sunset turned away and quickly caught up with Ruby as she headed towards where they had left the Haven and Beacon students.

There was shouting coming from up ahead, not pained shouting, or even angry shouting, but if Sunset was any judge, it sounded like triumphant shouting. Victorious cries.

Perhaps the dragon's death had had far reaching effects across the battlefield?

"What…?" Sunset started to say, then stopped, unsure if she had the right to ask this or no. But she decided that if she didn't have the right to ask it, then Ruby would soon let her know it. "What are you planning to do, once you've left school?"

Ruby glanced at her, and for a moment, she didn't answer. For a moment, Sunset thought she wouldn't answer, before she said, "I'm hoping to take up a job offer I got earlier."

"Ah," Sunset murmured. "Well, I doubt a picture of you having killed a massive grimm will do you any harm."

As she spoke, Sunset played with the buttons on her scroll, sending the photo to the scrolls of everyone concerned.

"I guess not," Ruby admitted.

Sunset put her scroll away. "What … made you decide to do that?"

Again, Ruby took a moment before she answered. "When everyone in a place disagrees with you, that might be a sign you're a bad fit for the place."

That made sense. It was, perhaps, a little surprising that Ruby had come to this view now, but epiphanies could come at any time, as Sunset well knew.

In any case, she did not feel it her place to inquire further into the hows and whys. If Ruby had come to this decision, and if she knew what she wished to do instead as it seemed she did, then Sunset would wish Ruby all the best, and thank her own good fortune in the process.

That was all that she could do now; it wasn't as though she had any claim on Ruby's friendship anymore, to ask her probing questions.

She had been lucky to receive the answers that had been bestowed upon her.

So she said nothing more, as the two of them — and Nora, Ren, and the rest of the group save only Weiss — made their way to where the Haven students waited.

They were not fighting. They were resting, most of them, or looked to be, with some of them sitting down, others leaning against the walls of the houses.

Violet Valeria was one of the few who was on her feet, and she turned to them as they approached. "Hail the dragonslayers!" She cried. "We saw it fall, and the grimm at once lost heart and took to flight. Many of your Beacon students have taken off in pursuit of them, but I thought that folly and held my Haven comrades back. We are too tired, too wounded; there is not a single team that has not lost a member to injury or worse; and it is dark, and we know not this ground. To rush into the night would invite ambushes."

"But the Beacon students left?" Ruby asked.

Violet nodded. "Not all, but many that I saw."

"I'll join them," Ruby declared.

"You say the grimm are in retreat?" Sunset asked.

"So it seems," said Violet.

Was it possible that the battle was over? Was it possible that Vale was finally delivered out of this long, dark night? Was it possible that Councillor Emerald would wake from his surgery and find that, as he had told Bramble, all of this was but the memory of a dream?

And if so, if the battle was done, then … what did that mean for Pyrrha and the others?

"Good luck in the pursuit," Sunset said. "But I must go to Beacon, as fast as I can.

"I must go there, though it may all be over by the time I arrive."