A New Morning II

So much has changed in so little time. When I first returned to camp a year and a half ago, this place was a mess. My father must have grown weaker long before his illness left him bedridden. Our walls were in shambles. Our supply of weapons and ammunition were limited. Food was strictly rationed—or at least it was supposed to be. Among the numerous shortcomings that had befallen the tribe, the most lacking element was discipline.

Even though we live ruthless and barbaric lives by Beacon's standards, we were once a bond stronger than steel, forged by blood and brotherhood. Soon after my return, I discovered that members would frequently steal from one another—food in particular—each night. They had reached a point where they'd sooner turn their back to their enemies than to each other.

Some of them even tried to seduce me. As far as the camp knew, I didn't kill those that tried. And it's true. I let them live, mostly.

That was my next test in controlling my feelings. My emotions clouded my judgment, and I impulsively cut off some fingers from one of the exiles. To the witnesses, it was sheer brutality. In my heart, it was weakness. I remembered that in those last moments, Taiyang had a ring that I gave up the chance to see, let alone wear. My fingers felt empty, and I needed an outlet. Besides, I needed an example, and I didn't need insubordination. So I got rid of them.

The exile spread a quiet chaos throughout the camp. Rumors of mutiny were spreading, and my new ability confirmed them to be true. Even though they wouldn't have recognized me transformed, these soft skinned grunts weren't exactly alert. They never even looked up.

Now, though, I'm proud of the current state of the tribe. Rebuilding hasn't been particularly difficult. Physical resources can always be acquired or replaced. The sense of loyalty and unity, however, is not so easily achieved. It didn't help that they doubted my power. That was, thankfully the easiest thing to prove.

I had apprehended all the leaders behind the plots and gathered them to the center of camp. It was quite the spectacle. The rest must have thought they were going to witness an execution—though, to be fair, outcome was just as good. Instead of cutting off their heads, I cut their ropes. Thanks to my spying, I knew exactly who their supporters were. I ordered those same people to bring the rebels their weapons and to join against me, if they wished. I didn't apprehend them initially because they were merely followers. I could reshape them. Half backed down, the remaining half joined the wrong side.

Afterwards, I challenged the rebels all at once.

I wanted to make their deaths more agonizing, but I needed to prove my next point. I ended their lives quickly. Then, I turned to the rest of the camp and reminded them why the rebels' decision was foolish. I called on everyone—those that sympathized with the now dead, those that remained loyal, and the spineless undecided. They were all at fault for jeopardizing the safety of the camp. No one took the accusation kindly, of course. I allowed their confusion and spite to settle in for a few moments. Eyes wandered from me to the corpses I left bleeding.

Then I reminded them. If this battle had dragged on for any longer—had their leader been as weak as they believed her to be—this camp would be overrun by Grimm. These monsters can sense negative energy, and this camp was a bomb waiting to go off.

At that point, I had their attention. I organized our first raid under my rule. I knew that since we were limited in manpower due to our limited weapon supply, this would serve as another opportunity to demonstrate my swordplay. We hit the nearest town. Two veteran huntsmen and what must have been some trained locals spilled on my sword, and in just one raid, the tribe's food and weapon supply was better than it had been in months. Everyone soon forgot what hunger felt like.

Qrow never would have been able to lead the tribe like this.

In that battle, I decided that a ring would have just been a pointless trinket. My sword is a better use of metal. However, it still wasn't good enough.

It's been well over a year since that first raid, and I still can't clear my mind. This might be a stupid mistake, but I'm not pathetic enough to fall victim to a change of "heart." I need to get this done before noon. After leaving instructions to my adjutants during my absence, I opened a portal and found myself somewhere unexpectedly familiar.

I'm honestly surprised to find him here, of all places.

Patch looks so much different in the morning without camp gates polluting your vision. There aren't any other tents or cabins here now, either. I dig my talons into the branch I'm perched on, upset at the irony I've flown into.

Not only is the house the same, but I see more familiar faces than expected.

Dreams should just stay dreams. In the distance, I bear witness to a nightmare.

Last year, this woman saved my life. Now, she is taking it. I had made my peace with my lingering guilt and shame. I came here to accept it. Today, however, she was supposed to be smiling into the light I left behind. Not this.

In front of me, Taiyang Xiao Long and Summer Rose are smiling side by side on the porch. Her hair falls from his shoulders and into an all too familiar blanket in her arms.

Wrapped in it is a little girl that is not my daughter.