Soft grass brushed against Yang’s cheek as she slowly came to in a field just beyond a long stretch of forest. She must have run for hours before finally collapsing here, where there was no sign of any Grimm or travelers apart from herself. She yawned and pushed up onto her knees, realizing with horror that she had not brought water with her.

“Feeling rested?”

Yang jumped up in surprise, rolling away from the source of the voice and grabbing for her tantō, which fortunately was snugly resting in her utility belt. She glared up at the stranger, only to feel her mouth go dry at the sight of Raven. Her mother sat cross-legged atop a tree stump near where she’d slept. A twinkle of morning sunlight filtered through her thick mane of black hair, casting a warm glow around her.

“How...how did you find me?” Yang croaked out. She kept up her impromptu battle pose more out of reflex than conscious choice, maintaining a firm grip on her weapon.

Raven sighed, flicking her chin toward her sword, which was planted firmly in the ground a few feet away. Oh. That made sense. Yang was so caught up in the unexpectedness of her mother’s appearance that the logical explanation of Raven’s semblance leading her here flew right over her head.

“How long have you been here?” Yang asked, sounding more accusatory this time. She may have filled a lesser role in the tribe compared to her mother, but Raven was in no position to expect kindness from her.

“All night,” Raven said. “There weren’t any Grimm, but I didn’t want to take chances.”

That was when Yang saw it for herself. Raven looked at her sadly, revealing tired, reddened eyes that clearly had not seen a minute of sleep. Had she really protected her that way? Did that mean she left the tribe without a leader?

“Wait, what about the others?”

“I left Vernal in charge. She can handle things until we make it back.”

“We?” Yang’s chest lightened with relief at the reassurance that the tribe was in capable hands. Halfway into getting onto her feet, however, the princess froze in her tracks. “What makes you think I’ll go back with you?”

Raven went silent. Yang wasn’t used to this, and she didn’t know how to explain it with words, but she knew they both felt it: a shift had taken place in their dynamic.

“Hello, mom?” she pressed.

“I’d understand if you didn’t come back, but even so…” Without another word, Raven hopped down from the tree stump, picked up her sword, and slashed the space in front of her. Yang watched in silence as her mother stepped toward the portal. Giving her daughter one last look, she stepped inside, stopping halfway. “The choice is yours. I won’t force you.” Then she was gone, but the portal remained.

Yang stood there, wrestling with her melting pot of emotions. Overwhelmed by the weight of this choice, she decided to go now, and finish thinking things over later. She didn’t exactly feel at peace with her mother right now, but that didn’t mean she was ready to strike out on her own. So, resigned to her situation, she followed her mother into the portal.

In the blink of an eye, Yang found herself back inside the tribe’s established campgrounds. On all sides of her, people were packing up and storing things in wagons or on the backs of horses. She found Vernal watching them from behind a rack of recently smithed swords.

“We can talk later,” Raven said. “Today, we’re moving on to the next village.”

Yang gasped. That was right! Today was the day they chased out the residents of another village and raided the place. She wasn’t entirely the tribal princess she once thought, so did she even want to do something like that anymore? Who knew how much more of the truth may have been kept from her?

“Alright,” Yang said, turning to walk away. She pretended not to notice the many tribe members watching from afar. “I need some time to myself.”

“Hope you won’t run off again,” her mother quipped.

Breezing past those in her way, Yang found her tent - the one she used when not in Raven’s. Over time, it had become her unspoken personal space. Everything was exactly as she left it. A cot in one corner, a table with a few one-handed weapons on top, and a tiny lockbox where she stored any personal effects, along with lien. Finally, a duffel bag lightly packed with clothes and a brush lay near the entrance. The space was quaint, and held just the essentials because that was the way she liked it, royalty or not.

Burying her face in her hands, Yang panted heavily, relieved to have some alone time when she could let out all of her pent-up stress. While she wasn’t quite on the verge of freaking out, like the previous night, she still had a lot to think about. For Remnant’s sake, she had a father, and a sister! Did they know about her? Where did they live? What sort of people were they? Hmm...Taiyang, was it? And the girl’s name was...Ruby? Yes, that sounded right.

Yang’s heart sank. What if they lived in villages like the ones she and her tribe commonly targeted? Or for all she knew, they might be living as part of a tribe, too. There was just too much to process.

But right now, that didn’t matter. She needed to isolate her problems, and focus on one at a time. The first was Raven. Did she still trust her? Had Raven meant all of what she said the past few years, or was all of that a lie, too?

Try as she might, Yang couldn’t come to a definitive answer on any of these questions. Not with so little to go on. She slammed the table with a fist, grinding her teeth. Just then, she heard a knock at the support beam near her tent’s entrance. Whirling around, she came face to face with a very concerned Vernal.

“Miss Vernal?” Yang asked, feigning ignorance. “What are you doing here?”

“Hello Princess,” Vernal said, nodding and smiling as she closed the distance between them, stopping a couple of feet away. “I heard you ran off. Are you feeling alright?”

Something told her Vernal knew the answer, but was holding back. She was like an aunt to Yang, in a way, and always seemed to know what was on her mind. No one made her feel that way. Not since one of her dearest tribal sisters, April, died while out on a solo mission.

“I don’t know, honestly,” Yang said. Then a realization struck her, and she hardened her gaze. “It’s mom, Miss Vernal. She told me something. A big secret. Last night, before you came back from your recon mission.”

Vernal frowned, resting a hand on her shoulder. “I know.”

“You know?” Yang stepped back as much as the condensed space would allow. The atmosphere grew charged and tense. Vernal flinched, but didn’t back down.

“Yes,” she continued. “I’ve known about it since you left last night. Listen. Raven never does anything without a reason. I’m sure she meant you no harm.”

“Are you?” Yang asked, her suspicions finally confirmed. She bit back tears. “Were you there?”

“No, I wasn’t. But I-”

“Then how can you know for sure?”

Vernal had no counterargument, and it showed on her face. She stood there, hand outstretched, unable to answer.

“That’s what I thought.” Yang turned away, her expression cold and emotionless.

“Yang-”

“If that’s all, then I’d like some privacy.”

She didn’t watch as Vernal’s footsteps slowly traveled out of the tent and elsewhere in the encampment. The princess let out a heavy sigh, immediately hit with a pang of regret. Vernal hadn’t deserved that treatment, but she was angry, and her most trusted friend in the tribe, who became like a mentor to her, was an easy target. Yang cringed at the thought, disappointed in herself. An easy target? Maybe she was like her mother, after all.

She looked down at her ruby-encrusted necklace that matched the primary color on the armor she wore. As a girl, she’d intentionally planned to fashion her look after her mother. To walk in her footsteps, and lead her family of bandits to a brighter future. Now all of that was like a lie lived by someone else. She still cared for them, but it felt wrong. Did she really have a right to think of them as her family, when her father and sister were out there somewhere, living another life without her? What about Raven? Why wasn’t she with them, either?

Yang reached into her utility belt and removed the locket, opening it once more. Hesitant at first, she worked her fingernail underneath the photo on the left and pulled it free. She gazed into the faces of her father and mother. Then her own, a woefully ignorant smile plastered onto the young girl’s face. A girl who she ceased to be ages ago. She started to sob, only cut off by mistakenly dropping the picture, which was so small that it was easy to lose if not kept in the locket. Yang bent down, retrieving the photo and dusting off specks of dirt. Something scribbled across the back caught her attention. She squinted to read the small, extravagant print. Her eyes widened.

There was an address! Whenever this photo was taken, her father and sister apparently lived in a house in Patch. Did they now? If she were to go there and find them, would her father even know who she was? The foolishness of that question made her slap a hand to her own forehead. She and Raven were practically identical. There was no way he wouldn’t know.

Still, could Taiyang accept who she was now? She’d helped hurt people, and they didn’t know the first thing about one another. What of her sister? What kind of person was Ruby, and would she care to know Yang? Did Ruby even know she existed?

Yang placed the photo back inside the locket, the address already burned into her memory, along with the faces of her long-lost family members. No, wasn’t she the long lost one?

Gripping her head in confusion, she leaned on the table and slowed her breathing for a moment. Wherever they were, she wondered whether or not they were thinking of her. Her mind raced as she laid down on the cot, draping a blanket from her duffel bag over her body. She needed to be alone with her thoughts. Only time in solitude could help her work through this mess. Vernal deserved an apology, to be fair, but she would see to that later.

Yang spent the next half hour staring at the locket, trying to glean something, anything, more from it. Deep down, she knew the effort was useless. Her tears fell softly, unseen by anyone else, onto the rough fabric of her cot, until she had no more to give.