September II

One of the benefits of having the baby on the outside rather than the inside was being able to transform into a bird once again. It was a learned power, one she'd only gained access to in her third year at Beacon a scant three years ago, but she'd greatly come to depend on it, and the period of time during which she was inebriated by coexisting with her child had been a struggle, to put it lightly.

It could only be one way when it was to the grocery store, but Raven was able to scope out the town in which most people lived on Patch while she flew overhead, meaning that she would have an easier time getting to something like the hospital when she did eventually go. At the moment, she was putting it off, as there were more pressing concerns like feeding herself and her baby.

In the end, the unprepared food, Taiyang's white powders and hard, dry grains and brown liquid bottles, were useless to Raven. She made three token efforts to pretend to inspect them until the leftovers ran out. One more serious attempt was made, during which she'd sampled each of the materials with a dipped finger to get a feel for what they were. All of the powders tasted dry, and the grains crunched under her teeth. The liquids had much better flavor, salty and tangy, but she couldn't imagine drinking them, and even Raven's unrefined palate could instinctively tell that they had no nutritional value, especially for a developing baby.

She tried mixing them together, a pinch from each of the bags or jars of powder, wetted with what Raven felt was a suitable volume of water, and she threw it in the oven to see if it would work, but the oven didn't even feel that warm. For some reason, the temperature she typed in disappeared every time she typed it, and it just left her with the digital message "Press Sta." Raven had no idea what Press Sta was or why it meant the oven couldn't make food – probably some sort of error message saying it was broken.

She'd brought a few rocks indoors and lit up a rudimentary fire pit to mix her powdered food slurry, but the smoke filled up the kitchen almost instantly, and Raven decided to snuff it out before it snuffed her little Yangling out. With no other option, she had to fly to the grocery store.

Her wallet was in her pocket, or it would be when she turned back into her human form. Raven may have been unversed in the ways of self-sufficiency, but she knew economics from her time as an academy student, as well as the rough price of ready-made meals and snacks.

After purchasing her goods with almost no violence, Raven set out to reversing the flown path she'd taken and traversing it on foot. It was theoretically possible to fly the food back, but she'd purchased five bags, each full to the brim with grub and far too heavy to be carried back. That would mean Raven would need to stash four bags and the majority of the contents of the fifth in some safe spot in town, fly back as much as she could, and repeat the trip about twenty times. Any time saved by the speed of her flight would be lost by the sheer number of return trips.

It wasn't like walking home with five bags in hand was a true burden. Raven could probably use the exercise to burn off some of the excess she'd gain during her pregnancy. The only problem was that five bags made her feel so unbalanced.

Perhaps I should have gotten one more or one less. One more might've been good, as that much extra food would have delayed my next visit into town by another week. But just the same, one less would have saved me some much needed lien.

Without the cost of rent (Raven was going to milk living in this free house for as long as she could, regardless of whether she owned it or her wayward 'beloved' did), lien wasn't going to be drained away like there was no tomorrow. Within Vale, they taxed one another on every little thing they could think of – land, insurance, business, commerce, income, breathing the air and drinking the water and setting foot on the land – but beyond the walls of the kingdoms, it would be impossible to claim the right to the miles and miles of empty forests. Raven could live peacefully without having to pay for that privilege.

However, food still cost money. Raven had considered living off the land, but she doubted that her island home had enough natural resources to sustain her. Plus, if she tried to do so, there was no telling what Yang's weak body would succumb to before the year was over. Babies were notoriously frail, and dirty food had been the death of many a tribesman back in Mistral. Even Raven herself could easily fall victim to foodborne illness, or even to plucking the wrong berry and dying to poison. It was safer to take advantage of the benefits of civilization, including its insistence on mandatorily clean and safe foods.

Costs would also include medical bills for baby Yang, Raven imagined. Those taxes Raven didn't have to pay were what funded the kingdom's hospitals, but Patch would require her to pay out of pocket.

I guess I'm paying either way. There's really no winning, is there? But I do need the service of the doctors, so I suppose it's only fair that they get compensated somehow.

Maybe it would be to Raven's benefit to tabulate a list of costs and sum them all together. She'd learned reading and arithmetic in Beacon, and they were skills that could come in handy right now.

If Raven could just approach this like she approached hunting, she could do this. Make a plan, stick to the plan, and come out on the other side regardless of what scratches and scrapes she made along the way.

Raven stepped into the cabin and placed all four bags of groceries (one tore along the way, so she had redistributed the goods among the others) on the kitchen countertop. With the precious cargo of meals secured, she went upstairs to check on the baby.

Yang was no bigger than a beagle, and although she must've weighed less than such a hound, she lacked its mobility. It was with this logic in mind that she'd left the little girl smack-dab in the center of her bed.

She's not yet capable of walking or crawling, so as long as I place her on a comfy surface, she ought to be fine.

As always, Yang was crying. That much was to be expected at this point, given her age. Raven wasn't so sheltered about child-rearing to be disappointed when her infant didn't speak full sentences as Day 7. Taiyang, cursed though his name may currently have been, had at least joked around about some clues that Raven could use to her advantage, including long nights awake, baby food being mushy peas, and soapy bubble baths having some great significance to toddlers.

Maybe I can do this. Maybe I can be a single mother. Make a plan, stick to the plan, and it'll all work out.

"Mama's home, dear," Raven said, stepping into the bedroom.

"WAAAAAAAH!" wailed Yang, lying face-down on the room's wooden floor.

Raven's heart stopped beating entirely at the sight of her newborn daughter, not at all in the place or condition she'd been left in. The bed was supposed to be a soft, comfy spot that…why…why had Yang moved? How had Yang moved?!

"You can't walk," Raven protested. "Y-You couldn't…"

"AHHHHH! AIIEEEEHHHHH!"

The brief, failed attempt at denial ceased almost instantly as Raven's daughter's cries intensified upon the return of her mother. Raven hastily snatched her up before realizing that she probably needed to be more gentle when handling her kid.

"C-Calm down," Raven tried, fully aware that the bald baby couldn't understand a word of it.

Yang just kept bawling. "HAAAAAAH! HAAAAAAAAAAH!"

It was at that moment that Raven noticed a bruise on Yang's arm, one that wasn't supposed to be there.

Oh my gods! The bed, it's at least two and a half feet up! It doesn't matter how Yang fell; she somehow did, and she dropped almost three feet!

"No, no, no, please," Raven cried, now tearing up herself. "Please, don't –"

Don't what? Raven didn't know who she was asking, or what she was asking of them.

Did she not want Yang to cry?

Did she not want Vale to declare her an unfit parent and take away her child?

Did she not want herself to continue subjecting her own flesh and blood to existing this squalor, this torment, an innocent babe suffering a fool mother?

Did she not want the Gods to kill her poor baby because of a stupid, stupid, stupid accident?

"W-We need to get you to a hospital," Raven said. "No more waiting – we do this now. D-Don't worry, Yangling. Mama will make it all better."

Raven would've run the entire way to the hospital if not for the fact that her feet caught when she tried to take a shortcut to the front door through the kitchen. The pained cries of her baby broke her heart, but the idea of dro–

"No!" Raven said aloud to whoever she thought might've been listening, too frightened to even let the concept fully materialize in her own head. "I'll walk, I'll be careful, I promise!"

As the crow flew, it took only about ten minutes to get into town, but as the Raven walked, it was nearly ten times as long, and this was Raven's second trek of the journey. Many a time, she wished she could fly, but a corvid of her size could never carry a child of Yang's. She knew how to hike, but taking a water or snack break while her baby screamed her little lungs out was unthinkable. Of course, the crying didn't last too long. By the end of their trek to the hospital, Yang had tired herself out, and Raven was in a similar state. Both of them were reduced to weak, frail silences.

At least Yang had an excuse.

Patch's hospital was a sizeable one, not as big as those of Vale but certainly large enough to sustain the entire population of the island's medical needs out of one building alone. Raven trudged into the front lobby, moving right past a few folks milling around and bypassing the line to get to the doctor right away. Any protests on their lips died immediately upon seeing an exhausted, sweaty woman with a silent babe in her arms.

Raven knew Yang was okay. Okay, not okay, but alive and well. She had checked Yang for signs of life multiple times, and based on the way Yang's cries had gradually devolved into whimpers and then yawns, the idea that her baby was just bone tired was far more believable. However, to the hospital occupants in line, it must've looked like a medical emergency.

Good. It may as well be.

At the front of the line, Raven leaned forward to shift her weight onto the doctor's desk. She could barely stand, from the exhaustion and the nerves.

"Help us," she asked succinctly. "Please."

The doctor (as well as a mortified patient who'd been complaining to her about some prescription or the other just seconds ago) was shocked beyond words for a second, but just a second. She almost immediately took her desk-scroll from the receiver and pressed two keys in rapid succession.

"Control? This is Building 2-South reception, we have an exigent situation."

Some numbers were uttered, probably the codes for a medical emergency. Raven recognized the notation of shorthand itself as a huntress who employed it in times of danger, though the codes themselves were unknown to her.

The doctor's desk had a tiny mirror on it, and Raven caught sight of her sorrowful self in it for the first time in a while. She hadn't realized how weepy she'd become, nor had she even noticed the trembling wobble her mouth had picked up somewhere from the cabin to the town and elected to keep.

There would be no planning. There was no plan. Raven didn't know how she was supposed to do this.

The numerous doctors looked her little Yangling up and down and concluded that she was in marvelous health, aside from a singular bruise (the one she'd acquired from falling, which they described as 'non-threatening').

"Is there a father in the picture?" asked one of them upon inspecting the wound.

Raven froze, and she could see the doctors take note of it.

"Ms. Br– Mrs. Branwen, this is a safe place," one of them assured her. "If you or your child are facing any abuse at home from your spouse or partner, we have resources to offer or direct your towards."

"What?" Raven asked, not sure how the topic of conversation had swerved to that. "What's…What's abuse?"

"Any physical violence, for starters," said one of the doctors, a young woman named Nurse. That was what everyone called her, and she seemed to be in high demand. "That's the most telltale sign. However, there can be other forms, including but not limited to emotional abuse – that would be where your feeling are manipulated in order to do harm to your mental state or well-being – or neglect."

"N-Neglect?" Raven asked. That was a word she knew, and she feared the implications of these doctors saying it.

"Yes. It's most common with young children or older individuals, especially when circumstances mean they cannot take care of themselves."

Raven couldn't take care of anyone. Was she being accused of neglect abuse?

I can't jump to conclusions. Maybe they don't know what…who I am yet.

"I don't think there's any abuse in my household," Raven said as sturdily as she could, hoping to project courage and sureness in her voice. She wanted to make it sound like she was offended by the mere implication of it; that would surely make these men and women back off with their t̶r̶u̶e̶ outlandish claims.

This seemed to have the opposite effect, encouraging some of the doctors to press further.

"Abuse can take many forms, and it can often be challenging to recognize for those closest to it. If your partner is –"

"I don't have a partner," Raven said, only to realize that was a mistake. If she didn't have a partner, and Yang was being abused, it was only a matter of time before the doctors figured out who was the culprit.

Please, please, just let me keep seeing her. I know I can't keep her, but just let me hold her one last time.

Again, the brains of the doctors must've been sewed in backwards, because Raven's half-admission of guilt assuaged their concerns and made them ease up.

"You're a single mother?" asked Nurse.

Raven nodded. Even though she imagined that only hurt her chances of holding onto her Yangling, it wasn't like the doctors wouldn't find out eventually and go blabbing to Vale. Yang would need her doctor's checkups, and Raven refused to kill her daughter out of pride, self-reliance, or a possessive desire to hold onto her.

Maybe Oz can pull a string or two. I know he's powerful. Let's just hope he does it on past favors and not with the expectation of future aid. I hate the idea of bartering away little bits of myself until I'm wake up one day, fully returned to his clutches.

"How old is Yang?" asked a doctor. "I don't remember any deliveries on Patch recently."

It was truly tempting to lie about Yang's age and just fudge the numbers. She could say she had her in Vale and that she was a year old (babies all looked the same), and the doctors would never know the difference.

"About a week," she admitted.

Yang had been dropped onto the floor because of her careless assumption that she knew babies when she didn't. What if there were other things Raven didn't understand? Medical treatments that only worked on those below one year of age, milestones that she had no comprehension of due to her atypical upbringing? If there was one thing Raven knew, it was that she knew nothing about all of this.

"Oh. You…"

"I gave birth to her as best I could," Raven admitted. "It wasn't like I had means to get to a hospital. I was pregnant, too pregnant to walk, and we…I don't own a car."

The concerned looks of the doctors were replaced by pitying ones. As much as Raven despised that emotion on principal alone, she was old enough to swallow her pride and admit that these people had enough power over her that she needed their favor.

"If you're struggling to –"

"No!" Raven belted out. "No, it's – we're fine."

The doctor backed away, not looked surprised at all by Raven's outburst. "I was merely wondering if you have any support network on which you can call for aid. If not, the government of Vale will offer aid that –"

"I have people," Raven admitted truthfully. Accepting aid was the first step towards proving she couldn't do this on her own, and that was to be avoided for as long as humanly possible. If Raven couldn't do this, some other woman with a husband and a degree in having babies might decide she could, and then it was bye-bye Yang, hello…adopter-person.

It wasn't a lie, anyways. Raven had her brother.

Although, he knows nothing about babies, and he's a man. I don't know if he'd truly be any better at this than I am, given that we both have the same shitty upbringing. Additionally, he's busy with Ozpin work, as Team Stark's sole remaining bird-brain. Speaking of Ozpin, the big man himself almost never has more than an afternoon off. There's no way either could do anything long term.

Summer. Summer could help. She was a woman, meaning she had to have some sort of instincts that Raven sorely lacked.

Or maybe memories of her own babyhood, if not instincts. I was raised by a tribe of cavepeople, but she must know how citizens of the kingdom rear their young, having seen it from the other side in her childhood.

Summer, then.

If Summer was interested in helping, that was.

They let Raven keep her baby, and they even put a little sticker on Yang's swaddling clothes. It was almost nightfall by the time Raven was sent back with a fresh pack of diapers, courtesy of the hospital, and a little booklet on how to be a mother that couldn't possibly fit enough information within its two folds.

It doesn't matter. It's time I put my daughter first and just asked my friend for help. First thing in the morning.

Raven set Yang down on the floor, padding a blanket underneath her. Maybe it was less comfortable, but there was no chance of her falling or of anything falling onto her, and Yang's safety had to come first above all else.

The hospital had mentioned solving some sort of formula to get as much free milk as they needed and fed Yang that stuff, but Raven herself was starving by the time she got home. The groceries were still on the countertop where she'd left them.

I'm amazed we didn't have wild racoons sneak in and steal it, given our luck.

The top item was a frozen loaf of bread with some sort of meat and cheese stuck in the middle. Raven tore the cardboard off, leaning her back against the kitchen counter so that she could keep an eye on her daughter as she tucked into the food.

Raven made it only two bites before knowing something was wrong. She'd been gone for about eight hours, give or take, and the food that should have been cold was now quite warm. On top of that, the taste was…off.

Damn it. I…I was supposed to keep these cool, wasn't I?

She was used to having food handed to her, be it from Beacon's cafeterias or from Taiyang's gentle hands, but she at least understood the concept of meats, dairy, and vegetables going rotten. Raven opened up the grocery bags to see just how much of the haul she was going to lose.

There were fifteen cans of soup at the bottom of the bag, as well as a carton of pretzel. Other than that…

All of my money, gone. All of my food, gone. All of my hope, I'll give you one guess.

Raven wiped a tear off her face as Yang looked up at her. "I-I'm sorry. I'm really sorry that you unlucked out and got me, kiddo."

Whipping out her scroll, she dialed once and held it to her ear. "Summer?"