Dulce et Decorum Est?

Yang was…

Yang was…

It had happened so fast, the dragon waking up, turning its angry look on them—

"You need to go! Jump!"

"Not without you!"

The dragon throwing them into the air by its tail, Ruby spinning wildly, wishing so desperately that she still had hold of Crescent Rose.

"Ruby, I've got you!"

Yang flying up towards her, driven by the blasts of Ember Celica.

The dragon's mouth rushing towards them.

It had happened so fast, and then … then it had been so slow.

She could remember every detail on Yang's face. She would always remember. Every line on her face, every strand of her hair, every glimmer of light in her eyes. Every fold of her clothes. The way her hair, so long and thick and lush, flew out behind her as she flew.

The way the fabric of her fingerless glove was stretched across her hand as she spread her fingers out and reached out to push Ruby away.

The look of relief on her face as Ruby was shoved out of the path of the dragon's jaws.

While she was not.

Everything had been so slow. Slow enough for Ruby to take in everything, every last little thing.

She would never forget this moment, this second.

It had been so slow, and then it was so fast. The dragon's jaws slammed shut before Yang, having saved Ruby, could escape herself. They closed around her and now…

And now…

Yang was…

Her sister was…

Ruby landed heavily on the ground, bouncing once, landing on her back, looking up at the dragon.

The dragon that had just…

That had just…

The dragon that had devoured her sister.

Yang had been … Yang was.

Dead.

Yang was dead and gone and—

Not yet. Not yet!

The dragon's jaws had closed on Yang, but that didn't mean that she was gone, not yet. Sunset had been swallowed by those grimm worms underneath Mountain Glenn, but they'd gotten her out again because just because a grimm ate you didn't mean that you were necessarily dead just yet, not if you still had aura. Yang would be unconscious right now, paralysed, unable to free herself, but that didn't mean that she couldn't be freed; if they could kill the dragon quickly, then she still had a chance.

Kill the dragon quickly.

Kill the dragon that they couldn't even seem to really hurt, that hardly felt anything that they did to it, that Penny's best shot could barely scratch.

Kill the dragon that all the power of the Atlesians couldn't put down, that had destroyed their airships and maybe more, probably more.

Kill the dragon, or Yang…

Or Yang would be lost.

Yang would be dead.

Yang would be gone and all…

All her…

Yang…

They couldn't kill the dragon, their weapons weren't strong enough; in fact, far from being able to save Yang, it was looking like they might not be able to save themselves, with the grimm all around them and the dragon in the middle of them.

Ruby was looking right up at the dragon as she lay on the ground, looking up at the grimm that had swallowed Yang whole, the dragon that they had to kill to save Yang and yet could not kill though their lives depended on it, the dragon that would kill them all.

The dragon that was laughing, laughing triumphantly, making that sound that grated Ruby's ears—

Yang's laugh had been so sweet, like honey trickling off a spoon into the porridge bowl beneath; and like the porridge itself, it had been warm, too.

The dragon stopped laughing and looked down at the huntsmen and huntresses fighting below.

A yellow glow began to fill its mouth.

The beam. The beam that would kill everyone.

And Yang would die, unless…

Ruby felt power rising within her, felt a light from within herself glowing brighter and brighter, rushing up and out from the depths of her soul towards her eyes. She heard the song within, a fast song born of desperation, all rapid strings just this side of discordant, playing in the pitch of the scream of fear and anger that ripped from her mouth.

The light rose up within her and shone so brightly it consumed the world.

Nothing but the light, nothing in view, just brightness, and no sound but the pained cries of the—

Ruby felt something heavy strike her on the head, and then everything went black.

"Ruby! Ruby?"

Ruby groaned softly, shifting her body a little; she felt a little uncomfortable where she was, wherever that was now.

Where am I?

Ruby frowned, though her eyes remained closed. What she remembered was…

Maybe I dreamed it. Maybe I'll open my eyes, and I'll be in the dorm room, and the last day of the Vytal Tournament will be about to start. Maybe I dreamed today, and all tonight, and I can ask Pyrrha if Cinder said anything about Amber, and ask Amber if there's anything she'd like to say to us.

Maybe I dreamed more than that. Maybe I dreamed it all, and I'll wake up in my own bed back home, and Yang will tell me that it's time to catch our flight to Beacon.

Maybe I dreamed all of this, and I can wake up and do it better.

That would be wonderful. That would be the greatest gift, the greatest thing, that I could possibly imagine.

But this place, wherever it was, felt less comfortable than her bed. Maybe, maybe if she shifted a little bit.

"She definitely moved that time! She's waking up!"

Penny.

"Ruby? Ruby, can you hear us?"

Jaune.

So it wasn't a dream. Beacon hadn't been a dream. Jaune and Penny hadn't been a dream, they were real, and they were with her.

Unless this is still a dream.

No. No, it's not a dream. It's my life. It's all been real.

Unless…

Ruby opened her eyes. There was no Beacon dorm room ceiling above her, just a starry sky and a few wisps of cloud and Jaune's face above her looking down and Penny beside him.

"Ruby!" Penny cried. "You're back! After what happened at Mountain Glenn, Jaune was worried that you were going to be sleeping for a while."

"Well, I didn't know how long you'd be out for," Jaune said. "It was a while last time."

Ruby realised that the uncomfortable position that she was in was being carried in Jaune's arms, bridal style, being bumped gently up and down as he carried her; the sky, the stars up above, they were moving, or rather, she was moving, being carried westward, in the direction of Vale.

"You're carrying me, right?" Ruby asked softly.

Jaune nodded. "You weren't exactly in a position to walk anywhere."

"Right," Ruby murmured. "But I think you can put me down, now."

"Oh. Yeah, right," Jaune said, stopping to let Ruby down out of his arms and put her down on the floor.

Ruby felt a little unsteady when her feet touched the ground; when Jaune let go of her, she swayed just a bit, and Penny grabbed her by the arm to steady her.

"I'm fine, Penny," Ruby insisted.

"Are you sure?" asked Penny.

"Yes," Ruby replied. "Thanks, but I'm okay."

Penny hesitated for a second, before she said, "Okay."

Penny let go, and Ruby took a step away from her. She felt … she felt light-headed, like she hadn't slept well the night before, or she hadn't eaten enough, or like she was coming down from a sugar high. Her head was spinning, or rather, her mind felt like it was spinning in her head, making balance a little more of an effort than usual.

That cleared after a couple of seconds, but Ruby was left with the light-headed feeling, the sensation that might become a headache or might be all that remained of a headache, the feeling of needles in her head, the feeling of sort of fuzziness chafing at her mind, making thinking straight … not hard exactly, but harder for sure.

Ruby wouldn't say that it hurt, but it certainly wasn't pleasant either, and Ruby wished that it would go away as soon as possible. She needed to be able to think clearly, especially now, especially if…

Ruby looked around. All around her, around them, were the huntsmen and huntresses of Beacon and Haven. With them, too, were a few Mistralian soldiers in their blue uniforms; they still had their weapons, but they had hollow looks in their eyes, they glanced around furtively, they started at so much noise as the snapping of a twig under foot. They looked scared, they looked worse than scared, they looked shattered, and Ruby thought that it was likely that if anything happened, they would run, the same way that the Valish soldiers had run when the grimm attacked.

Considering what the dragon had done to them, the Mistralians had at least as good an excuse as the Valish did, and Ruby hadn't thought the Valish were to blame at all.

As for the huntsmen and huntresses, as for the students of the two schools, they didn't exactly look free from fear themselves, or like paragons of enthusiasm. Nobody looked as though they were burning with eagerness to return to the fray, wherever that was. They were all moving towards Vale, not away from it, but at the same time, they were all moving that way without any sign or sound of the grimm. Nobody was fighting, nobody was even firing a weapon, they were all just moving westwards like a migrating herd.

But they didn't look broken. At least Ruby didn't think they did. They didn't look as frightened as the soldiers, and Ruby really hoped that that wasn't just wishful thinking on her part, that they actually were more stalwart, that they still had courage in them.

Although what they would do with any courage that they possessed … standing their ground and fighting hadn't done them a lot of good the last time, had it?

Or had it? Ruby didn't know. She didn't know why everyone was moving back to Vale, she didn't know what happened between the light and the darkness and her waking up. All she knew was that she couldn't see Yang anywhere.

For that matter, she couldn't see Pyrrha either, though she looked all around for her.

"What happened?" Ruby asked. "Where's Pyrrha?"

"Pyrrha's behind us, with Arslan, Ren, and Nora," Jaune said. "They're the rear guard." He put a hand on her back, and gently nudged her westwards. "We should keep moving."

Ruby consented to be nudged, and then walked forwards so that didn't need to be nudged anymore, but kept her eyes fixed on Jaune, with the odd glance towards Penny. "The rearguard," she murmured. "What did I miss?"

"There was a bright light," Penny said. "Coming from your eyes. Like wings of light."

"You were trying to use them, right?" Jaune asked. "Your silver eyes, you were trying to use them?"

Ruby nodded. "I thought that if we killed the dragon, then we could pull Yang out of it, still alive. And I was afraid that if I didn't kill it, if someone didn't kill it — and that someone was going to have to be me since it felt like we'd tried everything else — then everyone else was going to die." She paused. "Then I felt something hit me on the head."

"The dragon," Jaune said. "It whacked you with its tail before you could … it was hard to see; it looked like it might have had little bits of stone growing on parts of its body, but not enough."

"But you turned a lot of other grimm to stone!" Penny informed her. "If you hadn't, then it might have been a lot harder for us to get out, but thanks to you … I'm pretty sure it's thanks to you that we've been able to get away. The grimm are scared of you."

"'Get away'?" Ruby repeated. "So, the dragon hit me and knocked me unconscious?"

"I guess so," answered Jaune. "Which might be why you woke up so fast, compared with how long you were unconscious when you used your eyes in the tunnel under Mountain Glenn." He frowned. "But shouldn't your aura have protected you? Taken the hit from the dragon and let you carry on?"

"You'd think, wouldn't you?" Ruby muttered. "Maybe … maybe my silver eyes weaken my aura, suppress it, or—"

"If your aura was being suppressed, the dragon's tail would have smashed your skull," Penny pointed out. "But you don't even have a bruise on your face."

Ruby reached up and rubbed her forehead with one hand. "I … well, I don't know, then. I guess it doesn't really matter; it is what it is. It seems like I'm just vulnerable when I use my silver eyes, just not vulnerable enough to kill me. It's not great, but … can't argue with it now. But what happened after that, after I blacked out?"

"The dragon took off," Jaune told her. "Literally. I think you must have hurt it, even if you didn't kill it, and it didn't feel like being around anymore. It shot up into the sky and headed back the way that it had come. We haven't seen it since."

"'Since'?" Ruby asked. "How long have I been out?"

"Ten? Fifteen minutes?" Jaune guessed.

"Eighteen minutes and thirty-six seconds," Penny clarified.

"Like Penny said, you might not have got the dragon, but you did turn a lot of other grimm to stone," Jaune explained. "So we grabbed you—"

"And Crescent Rose this time," Penny said, holding the weapon, folded up into its carbine configuration, out to her.

"Thanks," Ruby said softly, reaching out to take the weapon from Penny's hands. It felt heavy in Ruby's grip, heavier than normal; Ruby put that down to the light-headedness, to the post-nap unease and discomfort that she felt, and hoped very much that it, too, would go away. "You were saying?"

"We smashed our way through the grimm behind us, and since then, we've been moving back towards Vale," Jaune said. "We picked up the survivors of the Mistralian forces, but no Polemarch."

"And no Yang either," Ruby said softly, her voice little more than a whisper.

The faces of Jaune and Penny fell, but before either of them could speak, there was a sound, the crack of a gunshot, Miló being fired in its rifle mode.

Jaune, Penny, Ruby, and all the other students stopped as well; the soldiers too, though they looked ready to run, while the other huntsmen and huntresses looked — more or less — ready to fight.

They waited, expectant, for more gunshots, for calls for help or wordless battle cries, for something, anything. But there was nothing. The sound of the gunshot faded, and the silence returned.

"The grimm are pursuing," Jaune explained. "But slowly, cautiously; they're not coming in a big rush. That's why Pyrrha and the others can hold them off; they're playing it safe. I think we have you to thank for that." He paused, glancing away from Ruby. "But … yeah. You're right. Yang … maybe if the dragon had died, then she would have been … but the dragon's gone, and…"

"And Yang's gone too," Ruby said, as quietly as the beating of a bird's wings.

Because she was. There was no doubting that now, no arguing with it, no hoping that it might be otherwise. The dragon was gone, which meant that Yang was gone too. You didn't get that many chances to save someone who'd been swallowed whole by a grimm; it was really only if you could get them out straight away, or near enough, otherwise … Yang's aura would be gone, and Yang…

Ruby didn't want to think about that. She didn't want to think about how Yang had died, how her sister had been lost to her; it was bad enough that … it was enough that she was gone.

Yang was gone.

Yang was dead.

"Ruby," Penny began, reaching out to her.

Ruby took a step back, holding up her hands. "I just…" she said, trailing off. "I need to … I'm sorry."

She turned away, her pace quickening for a few steps as she walked away from Jaune and Penny, moving forwards amongst the retreating mass of huntsmen and huntresses and hollow-eyed Mistralian soldiers who trudged their weary way west towards the walls of Vale and its Red Line.

Was she as hollow-eyed as those soldiers? Ruby didn't know. She couldn't see herself, she had no mirror; even if she had one, she might not have wanted to look.

Yang was dead.

Yang had died for her.

That … perhaps no one else would have understood this, perhaps no one else would have wanted to hear it, perhaps Ruby was weird or strange for feeling this way, but that was the part that stung the most, that hurt the most, the thing that stabbed her heart and twisted the blade inside the wound was that Yang had died for her.

Died for Ruby.

Death, to die … Ruby wouldn't go so far as to say that to die would be a grand adventure, but nor would she, like some people, fly from it in terror and disgust. Death was not something to be sought, but nor, in the right circumstances, was it something to be shrunk from. Death was, sacrifice was, to give your life was sometimes necessary. That was the old truth, that it was sweet and fitting to die for … for Vale? Perhaps, if Vale was being well governed and the people were happy with their lot and land. For Beacon? In as much as Beacon represented the future of huntsmen and huntresses who would take up the torch when you were gone, then Ruby supposed so. For the people? Yes, always, always for the people, to sacrifice for the people was indeed and without doubt sweet and fitting, the sweetest and most fitting sacrifice that could be made, perhaps the sweetest and most fitting thing that could be done.

But for Ruby?

Death alone, death in the right cause, death for a good and necessary reason, the mere fact of death or loss was no cause for … Ruby would not say it was no cause for grief or sadness; that would be too much. It was too much; it was too much for herself; even had Yang perished in the most noble, valiant, fitting, proper, and all things righteous manner imaginable, throwing her body between ten thousand innocents and the path of harm, even then, Ruby would have been sad. Even then, there would have been an emptiness in her, an absence. Even then, grief would have filled up Yang's room, walked up and down with her, filled out her clothes and remembered Ruby of all her sister's best qualities. Remembered Ruby and her father too. There would have been a stone, on the clifftop, besides Mom's memorial, a remembrance that would last while they themselves should live, and afterwards, until their cabin should crumble and strangers would come to the cliff and wonder at the names of Summer Rose and Yang Xiao Long, who they were and when they lived and how they lived and myriad other questions besides. Until the stones were overgrown, covered with vines and weeds, cracked by the wind and rain and the words no longer legible.

There would be sadness; there would always be sadness, no matter how Yang had died, no matter how nobly and well she had met her end, no matter what Ruby would be sad. How could she not, her sister being…?

Tears began to trickle down her face. Ruby did not trouble to wipe them away, knowing that even if she did so, more of them would be along in a moment.

Her heart was not made of stone. She had a heart, as others did, though unlike some, she was not governed by its impulses. She had a heart, and in her heart, she felt … joy, anger, courage, even fear sometimes, though she flattered herself that she felt less of it than other, lesser people.

And sorrow. She felt sorrow also, having a heart and cause for sorrow.

She would feel sorrow, though Yang had died so well, though the wellness of her passing might have dulled the sorrow a little.

If she had, if Yang had died in a manner that Ruby might be proud of, no, that was wrong, the pride came second; if Yang had died for … if Yang had died well, died better, died full of the glories of a huntress, fulfilling the purpose of a huntress, died in a manner befitting the best of huntresses, then Ruby would have felt pride as well as sorrow. Dad, too, could have felt proud, for it was no shameful thing indeed to send your daughters out to die for the people, facing the monsters that dwelt in darkness. It was something to raise your head and take great pride in, as it was when your mother had walked that road before.

Yang would have given them reason to be fond of grief, had she died well.

But Yang had … Yang had not died well.

Yang had died for Ruby.

Died … for Ruby. Died for Ruby.

Died … for her.

What … what madness was this? What foolish folly, to die for Ruby Rose? Of all people in Remnant? To die saving but one life, and that one life … hers.

Her life worth saving. Her life worth sacrificing another life to preserve, Yang's life. Why?

Why?

What … stupidity.

You idiot! Moron!

To die for Ruby, of all things, of all people.

Ruby could not feel pride in this, could not hold her head up high, no; she couldn't even feel only sad about this; she felt angry! Furious! Angry at Yang … and angry at herself.

How could she be worth saving? How could she be worth Yang's death? Yang was … Yang had been the sun, the light and warmth to which the flowers turned and opened, blooming in their radiant beauty; look at Nora, look at Ren, how Yang had made them hers.

Yang had been the sun, while she, while Ruby, was moonless midnight's witching hour, black and lightless, when and where no sensible soul would stir but lock their doors and keep the dust lamps burning. Love, which came so easily to Yang, had forsaken Ruby. Who would say to her, honestly, 'I'm glad that you're alive, though Yang is dead'? Would even her own father see it so, or say it?

Why should the sun sacrifice itself for moonless night? Why should the night endure while the sun perished? Who loved the night? Who preferred black night to sunny day?

What light would chase away the dark now that Yang was gone, and who would thank the night for enduring her absence?

All preferred the sun, the rising sun, the setting sun, the bright sun that illuminated the blue skies, and yet, the sun had died for darkness, which no one wished to see but to see gone.

The sun had died for her.

Why? Why was I worth that, why was I worth you? All my worth is as a huntress, and as a huntress, you should have let me die.

To die trying to kill that grimm and save everyone, that would have been a death worthy of a huntress.

Instead, I have to live with the fact that I'm the reason you're not here.

How am I supposed to do that, Yang? How am I supposed to live with your weight on my shoulders?

There was no answer from Yang, no ghostly response from out of the clouds, no reply from any god above or below, no crash of thunder, no still small voice, nothing. Nothing at all. Nothing but Ruby herself, her thoughts, her feelings, her whirl of feelings, her forceful feelings, her overwhelming feelings, her feelings that she dared not think aloud lest she be thought a monster.

Yang would never answer her again. There was no one she could turn to but herself. Ruby closed her eyes, and sank to knees on the cold ground, grass crumpling beneath her weight. She bowed her head, chin resting on the chest of her black tunic.

I hate that you loved me enough to do this, but not enough to let me go.

Strong arms enfolded her from in front. At first, without seeing, Ruby felt it must be Jaune or Penny come to offer her some misguided comfort, but the arms that had closed around her felt stronger than Jaune's, while at the same time, they didn't feel like Penny's grip; it wasn't so tight, or … no offence to Penny, but she had kind of a hard body, and that went for her arms as well.

The arms around her were strong, but they were shaking; the whole body that pressed against her was trembling like a leaf.

Ruby's eyes remained closed as her hands travelled upwards, her fingertips feeling bare skin just below the shoulders, and then some sort of plastic-feeling substance.

Ruby opened her eyes. It was Nora holding her, Nora kneeling with her arms around Ruby, Nora shaking like a tree buffeted by strong winds.

Nora sobbing.

"Nora?" Ruby asked. "I thought … Jaune told me you were at the rear, with—"

"We were," Pyrrha answered from behind; Ruby had to twist her neck — and her shoulders as much as Nora's grip would let her — to see her. "But the grimm have broken contact, for now; I feared that we might be cut off, so we fell back. We will stand here and let the rest of you go on, if…" She glanced at Nora but said nothing. Instead, after a pause, she said, "I … I am as sorry for Yang as I am glad to see you awake. Anything that I can—?"

"Thank you," Ruby said softly. "Really, but there's nothing you can do."

There's nothing anyone can do.

"Ruby," Ren murmured, shuffling shamefacedly over to her. He did not meet her eyes, he did not even seem to look at her; if he hadn't said her name, then she wouldn't have known for sure that he was speaking to her at all and not talking to someone else while just happening to stand by her. "I … I'm so sorry. If I hadn't gotten so scared then—"

"It's not your fault," Ruby said. "You can't blame yourself for falling victim to the dragon's power; everyone did."

"You didn't," Ren pointed out. "You fought when everyone else cowered or ran; everyone says so."

"That doesn't mean I wasn't scared," Ruby told him.

When the dragon had begun to shriek, she had seen her mother, standing on the cliff-face where her memorial stone stood, surrounded by stormy skies, dark, brooding clouds, strong winds that buffeted her white cape and threatened to blow her off the cliff and out to sea. As the dragon cried out, Ruby had seen her mother blown away, blown away though Ruby tried to reach for her; she had seen Salem under Mountain Glenn and felt as she had felt then when Salem had turned her power upon her — upon them all. As the dragon shrieked, she had felt hopeless.

But feeling hopeless, she had felt angry too; what better time than when all hope had failed to scream defiance in the face of the danger, to do as that Mistralian general at the end of the Great War — Pyrrha would know her name — had done, rip off her helmet and charge headlong into the Valish ranks?

All had seemed lost in that moment, but when all was lost was maybe the second best time to fight, after fighting when you could win.

"What … what happened to Yang," Ruby went on, "wasn't your fault."

"If I had been there," Ren began.

"Then so what?" Ruby asked. "The dragon was … too strong. Too strong for all of us." She paused. "What I know for certain is that Yang … Yang wouldn't want you to blame yourself. That's the last thing that she'd want."

Funny how easy that is to say to someone else, but not so easy to believe.

Funny … but what might be even funnier is that what I just said to Ren is truer than a lot of what I've been thinking. Yang wouldn't want me to blame myself.

Almost as easy to think as it is to say, not so easy to do.

Judging by the way the look on Ren's barely changed from its prior look of pinched misery, he wasn't finding it so easy to take her words to heart either.

Ruby looked at Nora, still holding her, still sobbing herself, so that it wasn't clear whether Nora wanted to be comforted or to be the comforter. Ruby put her arms around Nora, just in case, leaning forwards just a bit to rest her forehead on top of Nora's.

"It's okay," she said softly. "It's gonna be okay."

Nora blinked rapidly, a wan smile on her face as she looked up at Ruby with tearful eyes. "I feel like I ought to be the one saying that to you right now," she whispered.

"What I said, it goes for you too," Ruby told her. "You can't blame yourself; Yang wouldn't want you too. Ren needed you, and … and there's nothing you could have done for Yang."

Nora let out a ragged breath. She tilted her head a little to one side, gently reaching up with one hand to wipe at Ruby's tear-stained cheek. "You don't have to try and make me feel better," she said. "Not now. You've got a right to feel sad for yourself."

Sad for myself? What about angry for myself?

"I…" Ruby began. "I…" I'm not sure I know what to do with this burden that she's put on me. "I feel like I should honour her with my life," Ruby whispered. "But I don't know how. All I know how to be is myself, and—"

"Then that's all Yang would want," Nora assured her. "For you to be you, and to be happy."

"'Happy'?" Ruby repeated. What does that mean? What does happiness have to do with anything?

What would make me happy?

Will serving the greater good make me happy, or does it not matter if I'm happy or not so long as I'm serving the greater good?

I guess I'll find out when I start actually getting the chance to do it.

"That's right," Nora said, not noticing Ruby's confusion. "So long as you're living the life that you want, to the fullest, with nothing holding you back, I'm sure that's all that Yang would want, and I know that'll make her smile from … from wherever she is now. We can fight as though she's still here beside us, but we can't be her. And Yang—"

"Wouldn't want that anyway," Ruby added.

"No," Nora said, as she started to stand up, and help Ruby up to her feet as well. "No, I'm pretty sure she wouldn't."

Ruby snorted, a little touch of snot emerging out of one nostril that she hastily wiped away. "Pretty sure you're right."

"Yeah," Nora said. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure I am." Once more, she pulled Ruby into a hug, resting Ruby's head against her shoulder.

"It's not your fault, either," Nora went on. "You know that, right?"

No. No, Nora, I don't know that at all.

But I was right when I said that Yang wouldn't blame me, and she wouldn't want me to blame myself either.

That doesn't mean that I believe it, but it does mean I know that I should try to.

Ruby raised her head off Nora's shoulder, able to look at her once again. The girl who had wiped away her tears had plenty of her own, and Ruby took the opportunity to wipe away at Nora's cheeks with her own small thumbs.

"What matters," she said, before she needed to pause for a moment. "What matters," she tried again, "is that … Yang gave her life to save me. And that means … that means I have to live a life worth saving. And that means I can't just sit around crying until the grimm get here. Since you've been guarding the rear, I'm guessing you can't, either?"

Nora shook her head. "You see how I get when I get time to stop and … you know."

Ruby let go of Nora, her hands falling down to her sides as she turned to look at Pyrrha.

"So we're retreating to the Red Line?" Ruby asked.

Penny might be the team leader, but Pyrrha seemed to have taken charge, probably due to her authority with the Haven students; with the best will in the world, they weren't going to listen to Penny the way they'd listen to the Vytal Champion, the Princess Without a Crown.

It was rough on Penny, but if Ruby could get over it, then she could too.

"Indeed,” Pyrrha said. “I … don't see how another attempt to face the dragon in the field will end any better than the first.”

Ruby nodded. The Red Line certainly had its advantages, like a great big wall to stand behind and the rest of the Valish Defence Force — hopefully they didn't run off this time — to help them out, but at the same time, Ruby couldn't help but remember Pyrrha saying that they had an advantage over the dragon in the field because they weren't stuck on a wall, and Ruby had actually thought that she was right about that. Now, admittedly, that advantage hadn't actually let them beat the dragon, and it certainly hadn't saved Yang — or Bolin either, for that matter — but at the same time, how was being on a wall, unable to get out of the way, going to help them when the dragon returned, if it returned?

And it probably would return.

But then, if it did return, what would they do about it anyway? They'd had a plan to take it down, and that plan hadn't worked. The Atlesian guns hadn't worked, nothing … there was nothing they could do.

Except maybe use Ruby's silver eyes. They had hurt the dragon, according to Jaune, before it managed to land a hit on her. But if Ruby could use her power without getting hit … if she were upon a wall, say, where other grimm couldn't reach her, and even the dragon would find it more of a struggle, where she could be … Ruby didn't like to think of herself as being protected, but it seemed like she was kind of vulnerable once the magic got started but before it actually killed every grimm in the vicinity.

Maybe the wall wasn't such a bad idea, though Ruby didn't know whether Pyrrha had thought about it that way or not.

Pyrrha nodded. "Unless, as a local, you have any better idea?"

“I think if there was any better defensive ground around here it would have been fortified; if there is I don’t know of it,” Ruby said. “For what it's worth, I think the Red Line's a fine idea. Maybe the best one we have right now. What about pursuit?"

"Light, at present," Pyrrha said. "They probe and scout, but the main body holds back."

"Or they're trying to flank us," Ruby said.

"We haven't been attacked so far," Penny pointed out.

"In any case," Pyrrha went on. "As I said, I'm going to hold here, let everyone else get further ahead, then move back myself. Are you still with me, Nora, Ren?"

"You betcha," Nora growled.

"Of course," Ren said, quietly but firmly.

Ruby thought about asking to join them. It might have been … what was the word, catheter or something, for when you felt better after hitting stuff. Cathartic, it would have been cathartic to have joined them, to have joined in killing every grimm that came in reach.

Cathartic, but at the same time … kind of a pointless risk. If Ruby was the only one who could kill the grimm — and Ruby was starting to think that she might be — then she had to stay alive, or at least try, long enough to do that. If she got herself killed by some beowolf or ursa and the dragon was still out there, then where would that leave everyone else? Where would that leave Vale, and everyone living — or even just sheltering — behind the walls?

If Ruby was going to honour Yang, as she meant to, if she was going to live a life worth saving, then she was going to have to be smart about stuff, to think about how she could do the most good, for the most people; otherwise … otherwise, Yang really would have made a mistake.

And so she didn't ask, and she didn't join them; she left Pyrrha there with Ren and Nora and Arslan, holding their ground against the darkness and whatever it might hold as the rest of the students and soldiers continued to move west.

It was ironic — at least, Ruby thought it was — that she felt as though she was on better terms with Pyrrha since everything started falling apart, but at the same time — or maybe in spite of that — Ruby felt herself drifting away from Penny and Jaune as they retreated.

She drifted away from them, only to find someone else approaching her from her left side: Umber Gorgoneion.

She looked down at Ruby, or at least, Ruby thought that she did; with her sunglasses back on, it was hard to be sure.

"Your sister was strong and valiant," Umber declared. "A better fighter than myself, I must confess. You have my condolences for your loss."

"Thank you," Ruby said quietly. "You're right, she was a better fighter than you, by a long way. But thanks, all the same."

"And I'm also sorry that I wasn't able to fulfil my part in our plan," Umber added.

"You did your part," Ruby told her. It was me that didn't do mine.

"Although," Umber went on, "it seems that my semblance might not have been necessary. And I thought I was hiding an ace in the hole behind these sunglasses."

It took Ruby a second to realise what she meant. "You mean—"

"I won't say you were wrong to mask whatever power you have," Umber told her. "But the crocodile has raised his head out of the water now, I'm afraid. Although … I must say, I thought your semblance was speed."

"It is," Ruby admitted. "My eyes … what I can do with my eyes is something else. Something that I can't use very easily. That's why we didn't plan to use them; it's not that I don't want to, it's just … it doesn't come with an on/off switch."

"Hmm," Umber murmured. "Then how does it work?"

"I, uh … I don't really know," Ruby admitted. Professor Ozpin had never gotten around to explaining it to her. "But it seems to happen when people are in danger."

"Rare chance of that happening," Umber said dryly.

"I know, I know," Ruby replied. "I just … I hope it works when it needs to."

"It sounds as though we'd all better hope that it works when it needs to," Umber replied, "and protect you until it does."

Ruby might have responded to that, but before she could, she heard Penny calling out to her.

"Ruby! Ruby!" she cried, running towards her. "Rainbow Dash just called; she's on her way right now. She says we're needed, desperately."

Author's Note

The art is by Jun. The background depicts the Sam Wanamaker Playhouse in London, which makes it perhaps the most inaccurate background in the story so far, at least in terms of photorealism. It does possess, however, if not emotional realism, then at least a truth to how I imagine large chunks of the story as I'm writing it, as I envisage the characters frequently on stage - although generally at the neighbouring Shakespeare's Globe Theatre rather than at the Sam Wanamaker - either delivering their scenes together or else giving their soliloquies out to the crowd. This was certainly the case while writing Ruby's monologue, which I imagined in such a place, in such a pose.

This piece was, a rarity, not commissioned by me

The title of the chapter comes originally from Horace, I believe, but is better known now for the Wilfred Owen poem from the Great War