In fairytales, the heroine always saved someone.

Whether it was a village, a wayward princess, or even another hunter didn't matter, as long as there was a rescue. The difference between heroes and ordinary people was how they responded to a cry for help, if fear turned their veins to ice or if it was a clarion call for blades to be drawn and rush into the fray. Enemies came in all shapes and sizes, from the air and under the earth, but that constant never changed, a fixed point like a guiding star in the sky.

At least, that was what Summer always said.

Ruby remembered the words as a lullaby, verses lulling her to sleep on the nights where the shadows grew claws, long and sharp. She couldn't climb into Yang's bed anymore and her own blankets smelled like musty corners of the tower no matter how many times they were washed instead of oil of rose and wet pine, the nettles caught on her mother's cloak and boots as if the forest hadn't wanted to let go. Now red shrouded her instead of white, flowing like blood over snow that crunched wetly beneath her boots with every step.

Forever Fall was beautiful in winter, even if the change of the seasons had been harsh and sudden, the trees thick enough to subdue the city noise from afar, making the forest seem like it was cut off from the rest of the world. Dark branches held onto their crimson leaves despite the cold, threads of ice stretched between them, thin as spidersilk. She barely noticed the chill beyond a faint yet bone-deep ache, working the stiffness from each finger while listening for any disturbance in the cerise brush.

Yang hadn't said a word when she left the dorm, sharing a silent look of understanding, while Weiss had been occupied with trying to convince Blake to copy her notes. The Faunus had excused herself from history class earlier, claiming illness, when Oobleck began to discuss a massacre near Menagerie in years past, considered to be one of the breaking points that lead to the foundation of the White Fang. It wasn't anger laying over her skin like a mask then, but guilt chased by fatigue.

By the time they came back to the room, the smell of bile lingered in the bathroom sink and Blake was curled up in her bed, mercifully asleep.

When she woke, they were all waiting, Ruby the first to offer her hand. Words had never come easily when she could act instead, letting their fingers entwine and Blake lean against her cloak-swept shoulder. Everyone used their own way to try and help with the ongoing stress; Ruby had caught Yang pulling Blake into tight hugs in the back of the locker room, the sort that squeezed every last kink out of her spine, the same embrace that carried Ruby out of a wagon once upon a time. Weiss, on the other hand, arranged everything according to a plan, not wanting failure to follow a moment of weakness.

"If your grades fall, that could draw Ozpin's attention, and I know you don't want that." From anyone else it might have sounded arrogant, but Weiss' tell-all tone was completely sincere, meaning the absolute best.

"What's he going to do, give me an earlier curfew?" Blake snapped, even as the start of tears rose to the corners of golden eyes, anger draining from her voice when Weiss' shoulders stiffened. "I don't want to write an objective view of slaughter."

"I—" Ruby watched as Weiss mulled the statement over; the back of her tongue tasted like stone, memorizing the callouses so unlike her own. "I suppose I could write it for you. Just this once."

"It's not about that." Silence reigned before Blake's voice cracked, a low note of mourning. The next words came like a broken tooth wrenched out of her jaw, ripped raw and open. "I miss my parents."

The inside of Ruby's ribcage filled up with ice, climbing up to her heart when Blake let out a choked sob. None of them had ever touched the topic before, although she always had a feeling the absence was for a reason. The loss was like a piece of shrapnel wedged under the skin, forgettable over time unless poked or prodded in just the right place. Yang took Blake's other hand and Weiss one tense, trembling shoulder, palm flat but applying no pressure.

Together in such sympathy, Ruby found it difficult to believe she was two years younger. If Blake could buckle under like this, if Weiss' careful expression fractured with a sniffle withheld by the hard bob in her throat, were they still children? Was she a child too?

It was a curious thing, wondering if her sister's arms would still shield her as tightly as they used to.

The urge to run was stifled until Blake was coaxed back beneath the sheets; her team came first, even if she wanted a refuse from the noise, selfish tears threatening to rise. Yang interlocked herself with dark limbs, cradling Blake's head against one shoulder while Weiss moved over to the desk, taking out her scroll and pulling up the day's notes. After sharing a look, pleading with a fist clenched tight against her chest, Yang nodded and Ruby slipped from the room, muffling each step until her boots touched the flagstones at the front of the school. Maybe she wasn't supposed to go beyond Beacon's grounds, but Crescent Rose offered comfort against her back, surrounded by the warmth of the cloak.

A snarl and rustle of leaves snapped Ruby back to the present, drawing the scythe free while she scanned the treeline. Nothing stirred, but the sound was close, followed by the trample of footsteps as a second roar rumbled like thunder, shaking needles of ice from the highest branches. Steel unfolded in her hands, speed heating Aura to a crimson blur as she launched herself forward across the earth.

Three sets of feet — two of them fading — and the shifting weight of paws drew Ruby past a thick copse of trees to a frozen lake, dying threads of sunlight reflecting off its surface. When the glare eased, she came to a sudden halt and took a defensive stance. Blood soaked through chilled earth, a few undisturbed drops scattered as gems across virgin snow, cast free from a student in black, her arm raised as a shield against the powerful swipe of an Ursa Major, wrapped in a leather strap that glowed with energy. Smoke curled at its edges, fraying them as bright sparks surged from the weapon, fire failing to find its breath.

Ruby gave Crescent Rose a swing of momentum, tapping the switch to transform from scythe to rifle, leveling the barrel at the Grimm's skull. Tight pulls of the trigger fired a cascade of bullets, knocking the beast back. The first volley deflected off its head and spikes, but the second sunk into the flesh of the Ursa's shoulder as it reared back onto hind legs. Fur was burned away in patches across the Grimm's stomach, the scent of charred meat and thick spittle making Ruby want to heave when it lunged forward again, claws bared and ready to strike.

It was the other huntress caught the first blow, armguard fizzling in protest from the pure strength needed to stop the Ursa right in its tracks. Ruby saw one of her knees buckle, a cry of pain slicing through the winter air. Semblance sending a storm of petals flying free as she crossed the distance, a fraction too late to transform Crescent Rose back. Driving the stock of the rifle into the snow like a pike, she shoved the barrel into its open slavering mouth and squeezed the trigger as fast as her fingers could react. The start of a rumbling growl was cut off by the wet snap of bone and tissue, black ichor exploding out of the back of its skull.

In its death throes, the Ursa thrashed before a solid ton of muscle collapsed, metal screaming as the rifle slipped out from between saliva-spattered teeth. When it slumped forward, silver eyes went wide, shifting Crescent Rose to one hand as her arm went around the other huntress, kicking up red-drenched snow as the tugged them both out of the way. The carcass fell flat, steam leaving in a huff from its nostrils as the last breath left punctured lungs.

"Are you okay?" Ruby gasped. Fresh blood stained her fingers, dripping from the other girl's shredded sleeve.

"I'll be fine." The words crooned and dipped, a measured pause between each one like the chimes of a music box. "Thanks to you."

Their stares aligned and Ruby's stomach twisted. Blake had golden eyes too, but they were hard and cold in a way, the same as the gilded coins given at a mourning shrine or into temple boxes, where hers were filled with the heat of the hearth, fire contained as to be welcoming and warm. When they had met in the hall, Ruby had been drawn forward, feeling an invitation but unable to answer it quite yet.

"Cinder, right?" She knew the name from whispers, usually around Emerald and Mercury. Glancing around, Ruby noted two pairs of footsteps, having rushed in the opposite direction from which she came. "Where's your team?"

"We had taken out most of the pack when that last Grimm rushed us." Fingers tangled near the clasp of her cloak, pulling the fabric tight against her nape, but Ruby didn't want to force Cinder to give up the anchor. "I told them to fall back and that I would handle it, but it seems Vale possesses a more vicious breed than we have back in Haven."

Ruby's brow knit, tense with dismay. "They left you? Teams are supposed to protect each other."

"I'm their leader. I would rather both of them go unscathed than us all hurt." Aura slowly began to heal the deepest gouge in Cinder's arm, but she released a soft hiss of pain. "Our sacrifice is the most important. You understand that, don't you?"

For a moment, all Ruby could picture was Yang throwing herself in front of Torchwick to take another blow from the Paladin and Weiss leaping just in time to intercept the Deathstalker's sting before it ran her through. Even Blake was the first to the front line, taking whatever was dished out and staggering back to her feet. Penny too, who had jumped in front of that truck despite the risk of outing her secret, putting Ruby's safety first. They had to know she would do the same in an instant, give up her life if that's what it took. Right?

"Yeah." Ruby said, managing a weak smile. If they didn't know, she would prove it, starting right here. "Let me help you back to Beacon."

"You don't have to go to the trouble." Cinder failed to disguise a wince, prompting Ruby to slide an arm around her waist and support them both to standing.

"You bet I do. Leaders don't leave anyone behind, no matter what school they're from. Or, you know, whoever they are."

A soft hum of protest passed between Cinder's lips, but as soon as they found a steady walking pace, she leaned against Ruby's shoulder, their sides molded together. Underneath the bitter tang of sweat was a note of something familiar in Cinder's perfume, subtle enough that Ruby would have paid no mind if she hadn't known it so well.

Roses, the kind that grew lush, red and wild.

—-

It took the weekend for Cinder to fully recover, having received an extensive talking-to from Goodwitch about wandering off school grounds, or so she said. A smile, wide and bright, followed the confession as they sat together in the dining hall, taking up the far end of one table. Mercury and Emerald were holding Yang and Weiss in thrall with a story about taking down a King Taijitu together in its lair, having been wandering in the tunnels for a lark only to find the beast's home; Blake sat between them, present for the conversation but with both eyes locked on the journal in her lap.

"I didn't tell the professor you were there. I had a feeling she'd give you detention to make an example rather than appreciating your valiant rescue." Cinder sighed, idly tracing a nail across the exposed surface of one of of Ruby's wrists.

She didn't flinch like the first time, even if the casual contact turned her gut into a serpent's nest. Yang was the only person who touched her so casually, even if Weiss sometimes let their shoulders brush together, only to pretend that it hadn't happened at all. It wasn't that Ruby disliked the sensation so much as the fact that she was used to the cloak, her words, her age, something keeping up a ward that often put people off. Why Cinder wanted to touch her at all was a mystery.

"Maybe." The comment came as if through a wall, muted by a distraction elsewhere. Ruby couldn't look away from Blake, wondering what among the aged pages was putting that hard crease between dark brows. "I mean, I did get into Beacon because she found me chasing down some Dust robbers."

"I heard about that. Bravery comes to you like breathing, doesn't it?" Cinder's nail bit into her skin, piercing between a pair of tendons. Ruby's attention snapped to that waiting golden stare, warmth replaced with the threat of boiling over. "Sometimes, as a leader, you need to know when to allow those under you to choose their way."

Gulping down a breath, the pain faded as Cinder's hand relaxed. Ruby dropped her voice soft as it could go, knowing how keen Blake's hearing could be. "But she looks so lonely."

"Aren't you lonely?" At full volume, Cinder's voice was like a purr, but fallen to a whisper, every syllable climbed up her spine, pricked between her shoulder blades. "Has she come to you for solace? Or asked what could be done for you?"

"N-no. I—" Ruby fumbled for an argument, frustration mounting when the words wouldn't come. Blake's troubles seemed so much worse than her own, and it was a burden the Faunus seemed adamant no one else could share. What good was she as a leader, as a friend, if she couldn't protect the people she cared about from pain? "I just want to help."

"Mm." Cinder's lips pursed, silent in thought for a long moment. "Let's go to the library."

Confusion sent a stiff jolt through Ruby's shoulders. "The library?"

"As long as you're here, you'll be worrying about her when all she wants is some peace." Authority wrapped bands of iron around every syllable; sometimes, Ruby forgot Cinder was a senior student, older. "So excuse yourself and say you're going to go study."

Swallowing past the numb sensation rising from her stomach — in some strange way, she preferred the twist of the snakes — Ruby did as asked, forcing a smile right at the end. Weiss murmured in approval and said she might join them later, while Yang's eyes glittered with something like pride; studying with someone outside the team, it must have looked like she was making friends. Blake was the only one who reacted poorly, fingers tensing against the weather-beaten cover in her lap.

"Be careful." The Faunus said quietly.

"Careful?" Yang tapped Blake's shoulder with her knuckles. "They're going to hit the books, not each other."

"Still." Something flashed through hard circles of gold, but Ruby couldn't read the meaning. "It's just important to stick close together."

Her sister leaned forward and whispered something into Blake's human-shaped ear; whatever it was, Ruby saw a tight nod given in response, missing any reply when Cinder's fingers encircled her wrist. Turning away from the table, she allowed herself to be lead out of the dining hall, sure there was something she'd missed.

Halfway up the stairs, Ruby realized Mercury and Emerald hadn't even bothered to say goodbye.

—-

Studying wasn't Ruby's forte on a good day, requiring at least two cups of coffee to prime her to full attention, but with Cinder paging through the textbook beside her, offering a constant stream of commentary and criticism, it was hard to focus on anything else. Rather than the dry words printed on the page, using twenty-letter words when Ruby was sure six or so might do, the older girl painted a vivid picture of Dust's potential, turning theory into something powerful.

Beautiful, even; it was one of the reasons Ruby preferred engineering, the forge and warp of white-hot metal, turning a design into something real, but Cinder was doing the same with strings of numbers and alchemic catalysts, enough that she halfway expected them to flare to life from the other huntress' fingertips.

"That's how I made my weapon." The singed armguard had been resurfaced and polished, strap wound tight around Cinder's forearm. It fit neatly beneath the sleeve of her uniform, hiding in plain sight. "I come from a family of weavers. Spindles into gold, or so an uncle used to say."

"But why doesn't it break?" Professor Goodwitch had mentioned they would be studying archaic methods of Dust infusion in junior year, but for many hunters, Ruby had heard the art was nearly extinct. "It channels Aura, I get that, but what reinforces the leather?"

"It's not just leather, Ruby. Here." Drawing that sleeve up to her elbow, Cinder eased the guard off of her arm, presenting it for inspection. "Look along the inside, feel it. With the Dust sewn through in a pattern, it's like a spider's web, tensile strength more impressive than steel."

From the outside, it simply looked like black leather, even with a design etched along the surface, but as soon as Ruby turned it over, her eyes went wide. A weave of Dust ran like veins through the armguard, red with the fire it contained, although there didn't seem to be anything sealing it in place. When she ran a finger over the length of one, it was searing to the touch, forcing her to recoil, digit slipping past her lips as she sucked on it and bit back a curse.

"That's raw Dust!" Ruby said when the sting went away. "How can you wear this?"

Cinder's mouth quirked, oddly pleased. "It's not quite raw Dust. It's Dust bound to thread, a filament so fine that it takes on the properties of the element instead of rendering it inert. Attuned to my Aura, it doesn't hurt at all."

"Wow." She felt breathless, excitement bubbling up in her chest. It was with some reluctance that Ruby handed back the guard; something about it felt right in her hands. When Cinder slipped it back on, a shiver shot down her spine.

"I can show you more, if you like." The older huntress mused, hooking her finger around the one Ruby had burned, as if to swear a promise. "Just say the magic word."

Ruby didn't even have to think about it. "Please."

—-

The message came half an hour before curfew, scroll vibrating impatiently in Ruby's pocket until she pulled it out, having been lost in reading through the book Cinder had recommended. It was ancient, creaked with every turn of the page like it was going to disintegrate at any moment, but even the faded sepia ink couldn't take the wonder of its contents away, illustrating the history of Dust before humanity perfected the use of metal.

I need to see you. Come out to the red wood, the tree where we met.

She had already changed into her pajamas, but it didn't seem like Cinder would ask such a thing if it wasn't important. Blake was already asleep, curled up around her pillow, and Weiss was fading fast, if the half-muffled yawn from the bunk below meant anything. It was Yang who noticed her climbing down, setting the comic in one hand aside to pull a face.

"And where are you going, little sister? It's almost lights out."

"I just need some air," Ruby said, already halfway through relacing her corset. "It's stuffy up top."

"Yeah, I guess. I like it warm, though." Yang sighed. "Don't go too far, okay?"

"I won't." Why was it so easy to lie?

"You'll be freezing your toes off after a few minutes, anyway." Picking the comic back up, Yang yawned too, eyes flickering down to a colorful splash page. "Patch never got this cold in winter."

Humming in agreement, Ruby strapped Crescent Rose to her back and left before any more questions could be asked. It wasn't that she didn't want Yang to know where she was going, just that her sister always worried, no matter how much she fought to keep it from showing. Yang deserved a break from having to be her keeper once in a while, didn't she?

True to Yang's warning, though, it was blistering cold outside, even with the wind still and quiet. Wrapping her cloak tight around her body, Ruby trudged past Beacon's far gate, only breaking into a run when she was far enough away that the crunch of snow wouldn't draw the attention of any teachers on patrol. Her Semblance could do little to help matters as she approached the boundary of Forever Fall; the run worked to warm her body, but the air cut through clothes like they weren't even there, frozen and sharp.

Finding the lake took a few more minutes, owing to the darkness pressing on all sides, patches of brightness from the stars above letting Ruby trace the path back when she caught a glimpse of this stone or that clearing. At night, the sheet of ice across the water was dull, layered so thick that it could be walked on by anyone daring enough to try. Breath left her lungs in opaque puffs of steam when she finally came to a halt near its edge, silver eyes scanning for any sign of golden twins.

Cinder peeled out of a shadow from her right, so quiet that Ruby almost shrieked before clapping a hand over her mouth to stop the sound from escaping. Clad in the Haven uniform, black hair flowing free, the older huntress would have been invisible if not for the glow of her gaze, moonlight reflecting off white teeth when she smiled.

"You made it." Gesturing to a tree with a huge overhang of leaves, Cinder lead the way to a tangle of roots free from snow, even if mist dampened the wood. "Come sit with me."

"What's this about?" Ruby asked, tucking her cloak under her thighs as she sat. The extra layer of fabric didn't stop the chill from soaking through her leggings and she shivered, jaw tense as her teeth tried to chatter. "I thought something might have happened to you."

"Oh, but it did." If the cold affected Cinder at all, it didn't show, legs casually angled to the side, nearly making contact with Ruby's boots.

"It did?" Worry made her pulse spike, staving off the encroaching freeze for a few seconds.

"I came to this school for so many things, Ruby." Cinder sighed, as if the notion disappointed her, but distaste vanished as easily as it had come. "Most of those things I've found, but I also found you."

"Found me?" She felt like one of those decorative birds in shop windows, only able to repeat what was said to them first. None of this made any sense.

"A diamond in the rough, I thought at first, but no. Your facets are already cut so deep. Everything you can be is in your grasp, if you'll just reach for it."

Ruby blinked, more lost than ever. "Cinder—"

"Hush."

The older girl turned, and before she could answer, Cinder's mouth was pressed against hers. From what Ruby heard about kissing, it was supposed to be something gentle, but this was unyielding until her lips parted, a startled whimper escaping from between them. Then Cinder's tongue tapped her teeth, insistent until those eased apart too, Ruby's jaw going slack.

Something about it felt undeniably wrong, but the forest was cold, and Cinder was so, so warm.

Pain suddenly lanced through the base of her skull, radiating outward in scorching, agonizing circles. Then it was gone as quickly as it came, just as Cinder's mouth withdrew, shining wet from the kiss. Dazed and the world starting to spin, it was only by reaching out to grip at one dark shoulder that Ruby kept from slumping to the ground, watching in distant horror as her vision centered on an object clasped tightly between Cinder's forefinger and thumb.

A fat drop of blood clung to the needle's tip, the metal holding the same heat as the inside of the armguard, gold and red fusing together before her eyes. When it cooled, the light fading from within, Cinder plunged the needle into her own palm, letting out a sound that dared close to pleasure. White spots cut holes in Ruby's sight, growing larger by the second until there was nothing but the empty haze and that warm, hypnotizing voice.

"When you burned yourself on that line of Dust, I knew I could make you mine, Ruby. That armguard really is just a cut of leather, a parlor trick, but you left just enough of a trace for me to make this needle."

A laugh, then, loud enough to scare some poor creature from the branches above.

"Just as Dust can be bound, blood can be bound. I'll be able to find you anywhere." Fingers cradled her jaw, grip hard enough to bruise. "And when you wake, all of this will seem to be the right way of things."

Consciousness drained away by the second, a mercy in its own way.

In fairytales, the heroine always saved someone, but her own survival was never guaranteed.