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Chapter Text

There was talk of a huntsman academy starting in Menagerie.

After the war, with the countless huntsmen and huntresses lost, and Beacon Academy only just now in the midst of unencumbered restoration, it only made sense to utilize some of the largest area of unused land.

Koa Kuana was simply too small and densely populated too support this extra addition. The only option would be to expand, not into the desert region inward, but along the Northern coast. But before an academy could open, first it must be built. Before an academy could be built, the land must be surveyed and primed for construction. Before any of that, it must be tamed. Perhaps not only for an academy, but for more villages, towns, and ports. This was the dream Ghira Belladonna had for his people. This endeavor most certainly wouldn’t bear fruit within his lifetime, but perhaps within his daughter’s.

Menagerie’s interior(basically anything east of Koa Kuana) was wild, uninhabited, and home to flora, fauna(“Yes Yang, I see why you’d find that funny.”) and grimm undocumented in science and history. Remnant was a land of myths and legend, and more of those myths and legends found their home in the eastern wilds of the faunus continent than even the wide reaching continent of Anima. Lizards that were not grimm and not dragon, yet were said to grow to draconic sizes. Birds, some ten feet tall and others with a wingspan to rival a giant nevermore’s.

It was everything Yang could ever dream of.

Who else better suited to take the first step in learning and taming it all than the Chief’s own daughter and daughter-in-law? Two seasoned huntresses, despite being just shy of 25, who helped land the final blow that ended a war that waged for generations under everyone’s noses. It was, on paper, a simple assignment.

Explore. Wipe out any grimm you come across, but that was par the course for them. Blake was fairly certain her wife was viewing this as a potential second honeymoon.

“Future generations will call me Yang Georgesmiter,” the blonde grinned up at Blake, dutifully checking off their list of necessities. “First undocumented grimm we find, I’m calling George. And I’m gonna smite it.”

“George and the dragon,” Blake plopped her chin down on Yang’s had, absentmindedly blowing at her cowlick. “I remember that story. Dragon was the one that got slayed though, right?” Yang huffed and leaned back against her chest.

“Call it vengeance for my namesakes, then.”

Their route was a long one. Taking an airboat and following the river inland for about 40 clicks, they’d disembark from a small fishing outpost, the last little lick of civilization before being left out in the wild.

“Thank you, Uncle,” Yang gave their elderly boat driver a firm handshake. He wasn’t related to either of them, but uncle and auntie were just what you called old people in Koa Kuana. Yang was integrating herself into the culture nicely, a fact that always made Blake’s heart sing.

The cat faunus dug into her rucksack, and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. Neither of them smoked, but it was a common habit among the elderly men, and a brand from Vacuo was a rare treat for them. She offered it, tilting her head respectfully, and the boat driver’s lupine tail wagged appreciatively.

Their travels all over Remnant taught them many things. Bribing or thanking grizzled old men with cigarettes in order to get free rides was a skill that knew no borders. They waved goodbye as he tucked the pack into his shirt pocket, and refueled that boat.

“He won’t light those at all until he gets back to town,” she smiled. Yang looked at her, eyes twinkling like they always did when she was about to hear a story.

“Oh?” That was something Yang and Ruby had in common. A story, legend, fairy tale, even a random bit of history? They devoured every word like Nora devoured pancakes.

“Local legend,” Blake’s tone danced, teasing her wife’s curiosity but willing to feed it. It was the storyteller in her. “People say that tobacco smoke in the jungle will attract tree spirits, who will snatch you up.”

“Snatch you up?”

“Well, the story changes depending on who’s telling it and to who. Snatch you up, or slap you silly, or um, marry you. Those are the kid friendly versions.”

Yang grinned at her salaciously. “Well good thing neither of us smoke tobacco then. The only one marrying you in this jungle is me.”

“We’re already married, doofus.”

“And yet I make a wife outta you every night and twice in the mornings.” Blake snorted and shoved her playfully.

“You gonna wife me up in the jungle then?”

“Maybe if you’re especially good.” Yang winked, nudging her with a hip. “Or especially naughty. Haven’t made my mind up yet.”

With the abundance of game available in the jungle, they’d made the decision to spread their packed rations thin, padding it with whatever they caught. Dinner that night had been freshwater eel. Yang’s eyes had grown to the size the saucers when Blake hauled it in. Freshwater eel was common in the markets of the town, but none of them came close to the size here, so far from civilization. Their protein taken care of, their much needed carbs came in the form of packed hardtack, which they softened by soaking in coconut milk. They talked and laughed and flirted as they ate, as if they were simply just two young women in love on a short camping trip.

“I put the rest of the eel to smoke, so it’ll be preserved and lighter to carry.” Blake was seated in front of the fire, watching it dance and spark, reminding her of Yang in battle. Her head was tucked firmly under Yang’s chin, warmth and love and safety surrounding her.

“You’re amazing, you do know that, right?” Yang’s voice was barely a murmur as she sucked absentmindedly on the tip of one pointed ear. It was a habit she’d developed years ago. “This survivalist shit. Like, I got the basics down, but let’s be real. One year at Beacon only covered temperate, deciduous environments. But this jungle woman stuff? Amazing. Hot and amazing.”

“Please,” Blake purred, pressing closer. “Go on. Keep telling me how impressive I am.”

In the light of the fire, under the stars, Yang did.

Chapter Text

They’d been at it for near two weeks, and Blake was starting to think Yang was really onto something by treating it like a second honeymoon. They’d camped under the stars, hiked, explored as ordered, and kept document of any new grimm encountered, including Yang’s much sought after George.

George, as it turned out, was a grimm that had more in common with a capybara. While large, they were so weak that Yang almost felt bad slaying them. As an enemy, they were so pathetic that Yang actually begged her to never bring it up with Ruby and Weiss the next time they saw them.

It wasn’t all run and gun and making fun of each other though.Yang’s adventurous nature had always given her wife’s tendency to roam a healthy outlet. Home was each other, so they were always home, and they made their home wherever the other was. Yang had held our hands out, presenting Blake with a few, huge feathers. They faded in and out of a black so deep it was almost purple, to grey, to a color somewhere between blue and green, and each was the length of her forearm.

“The eagle that these come from,” Blake had whispered to her, though there was no reason to whisper. “They have wingspans as wide as you and I, if we laid down head to foot.”

“Wow,” Yang breathed, lilac eyes twinkling as she marvelled at the knowledge, marvelled at Blake, and marvelled at Blake’s knowledge. “If we see one, I’d love to try and get a picture of one on my scroll. Ruby would love that.”

“They’re very rare,” she nodded. “Occasionally we’ll see one fly over the town every few years or so. They’re beautiful, though we don’t know much about them. I know they eat monkeys, though.”

“Too bad we didn’t invite Sun along, then.”

“I’ll be sure to let him know you intend to use him as eagle bait, babe.” Blake laughed, and clasped Yang’s hands in her own, feathers held tenderly between them. She kissed her wife as she smiled, tasting the wonder and happiness on her lips. She pulled away, amber eyes half lidded in a gaze that she reserved for Yang and Yang alone.

Yang smirked. “Well, that’s the other reason we didn’t invite him along, yeah?” Blake huffed and shoved her wife back, the blonde falling to her rump laughing loudly. It had been a very short lived, teenaged crush that had faded the more she got to know him, but almost a decade later and Yang never let her forget it.

“You can be such a butt, you know that?”

That was the tone for the first two weeks of their journey. Loving each other, teasing each other. They hunted together, and shared meals together. Yang was more than willing to reach her prosthetic arm into whatever holes or burrows they came across to drag out what would either be their next meal or a small but very angry grimm.

Blake would, in turn, feed her what fruits she recognized, kissing the juice from her lips. Truth be told, both of them were ass at botany, that’d been more Weiss’ forte. While they were confident enough to tell the difference between say, a jungle death turnip and a potato, it was best to stick with what was familiar. A banana was a banana, a coconut was a coconut, and a lychee was a lychee except for when it was a rambutan. They’d found and recognized durian, but both of them hated it, and what was preferable was also fairly plentiful if one was willing to put in the time and effort to gather them.

Other than that, Blake could only tell what plants would get you high, get you unconscious, or stop your bleeding. Useful enough information, but not when your goal was to fill an empty stomach.

It was almost liberating. Yes, every day was a long hike, and yes, every day they had to work and fight for their meals. But at the same time? Out here in the wild with her wife? No one to answer to but each other? Peaceful. Perhaps other people would’ve lost their minds, stuck in the wilderness for weeks on end with only one other person. Perhaps other people would’ve grown tired of each other, snapping and rude words, followed by long, sullen silences. Not them, though. It’d always been Blake and Yang, and it would always be Blake and Yang.

It wasn’t until the end of their two weeks that it finally clicked for Blake. They’d found a waterfall at the base of the unnamed mountain they’d been hiking towards, and after a thorough investigation to make sure there was nothing dangerous lurking in the water, they’d stripped down and jumped right in. Perhaps they’d been a bit gung-ho about it, but the opportunity to bathe under running water was a rare one, instead of trekking to the nearest stream or pond and taking turns cleaning themselves as quickly as possible, the other one standing watch with their weapon drawn.

The cold water was welcome in the jungle heat and humidity. In the pale, pre-dawn light, with wet, tanned skin and long hair clinging to her breasts, Yang looked like a goddess. A goddess only Blake could worship. Standing waist deep in the water, Blake’s mouth was as dry as the desert on the other side of the island.

“I want you.” The words hadn’t even fully left her mouth when her wife swallowed them with a kiss. Yang made love to her under that waterfall, a fantasy neither of them knew they had until they lived it. The jungle their own private garden, the rare birds and butterflies the only witnesses to the secrets they whispered to each other.

This was it. Increased agility, night vision, and hearing were not the only thing her faunus blood provided her with. Animal instincts, though she loathed hearing those words from some humans, were something she carried with her always. Sometimes it was a near precognitive ability to tell when something was wrong, other times it was simply being more amorous when Yang was ovulating. It was weird, and occasionally embarrassing, but it was a part of her. And perhaps that instinct was part of why she was so happy.

She and her mother were feline faunus of no particular species, yes. But her father was a panther. Perhaps this is how her wild counterparts lived, prowling the jungle with their mate. That was exactly what Blake had been doing for a fortnight.

The sun rose, kissing Yang’s skin like Blake herself had only minutes before. They shared a breakfast of dried fruit, shoulder to shoulder. They were always close, always affectionate, but even more so post-love making, bodies unwilling to part even after the act was done.

“Wrong,” Yang had told her once. “I’m always making love to you. When you smile at me, when you hold me, when I make you laugh. We’ve made love from the moment your eyes met mine.”

Filling their canteens, Blake’s gaze lingered on her face. The panther in her heart purred, content. Yang smiled indulgently, as if reliving the same memory with, nudged her with hip, and they began their trek up the mountain.

Empty eyes observed them from a distance. “You.” It snorted. “You you you. Want.”

Chapter Text

The hike up wasn’t as eventful as some other hikes they’d been on. Possibly due to the fact that they maintained a brisk, but relatively leisurely pace, as opposed to clawing themselves up a mountainside while fighting hordes of grimm, but Blake wasn’t gonna complain.

She’d take Yang scrambling onto a nearby boulder and doing a terrible impression of a goat over battle any day.

“I think,” Yang’s voice was breathy, a combination of exertion and altitude. They could climb a mountain much faster than a civilian, but it was still climbing a mountain. “I’m thinking for dinner, we should catch one of those monkey weasel things.” Blake wordlessly tapped Yang’s chin with her canteen, reminding her to drink. “Thanks. Do we still have seasoning?”

Blake hummed as she took the moment to relace her boots. “We still have some salt and pepper left. I’m actually surprised we managed to stretch them out this long, we’ve been out here a couple weeks already.”

“I’m surprised your mother hasn’t sent backup at this point.”

Blake snorted, smacking her wife’s abdomen. “My mom isn’t that bad. We’re trained huntresses and she knows that. She knows what we’re capable of.”

“Oh I don’t doubt she’s aware we can hold our own in a fight,” Yang’s voice was beginning to edge into that West Vale drawl common among Patch islanders. “Supply drop only. You know her. ‘Oh Blake darling, are you eating enough?’”

Blake shrieked. “Oh my god that is word for word what she says.”

That was enough encouragement for Yang, as she began to drape herself over Blake and her voice lifted in a terrible impression of Kali. “Now, are you girls sure you packed enough water purification tablets?” She schooled her face into a concerned pout. “Now I know all you really need is iodized salt, but what if you find mangoes out there? How is Yang supposed to enjoy mangoes without chili pepper?”

That did it. Yang’s last impression, with a crack to her voice, nearly sent Blake laughing off a cliff. “Okay, okay. I see your point. Sending a resupply team a week into the jungle to make sure we’re eating well is absolutely on brand for my mother.”

“Well she can’t help it,” Yang shrugged. “We’re her best girls.”

If ever a thought could make Blake rumble happily, it was that. Reminders that she and Yang were married, and so integrated in each other’s families because they were family. Ruby was as much her sister as she was Yang’s, and Kali doted over Yang as if she had(but thankfully had not) birthed her herself. Mine, the panther in Blake’s heart purred. The dragon in Yang’s eyes echoed that sentiment, and they stood there silent for a moment, basking in the weight of that knowledge.

It was one of those moments, the kind that Weiss had complained about even during their days at Beacon. Where they just...stared at each other. Not a look where the whole world disappeared around them, but one that said the two of them would face it together.

And just like that, it was over.

Yang huffed, as if pleased with herself, pleased with what she and Blake had communicated with a glance, and continued on to walk the narrow path up the mountain. “When we get back home,” she called over her shoulder. “I’m gonna make us some bologna sandwiches. I’m starting to miss processed meat.”

Blake snorted, unable to help herself. “Oh? I always knew you liked your meat fake and plastic.” She nudged Yang with her hip suggestively as she passed her. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to give you a heaping helping of that, too.”

“Easy there, tiger. You didn’t get enough earlier?”

“Yang Xiao Long, you say that as if you weren’t planning to take me again as soon as we reach the summit.”

“What can I say? You’re far more sexually appealing after you’ve bathed.” Blake gave her a withering glare, enough to strip paint.

“You’re no spring daisy either. Still, you after a workout has got nothing-”

“-on Weiss’ wet dog smell when she gets caught in the rain?” The two wives shared identical grins, shoulders shaking with mirth. “Ruby would kill us if she heard us.”

“No, no,” Blake shook her head. “Weiss can kill us herself, Ruby would join in on making fun of her up until she’s threatened to a week sleeping on the couch.” Blake paused. “Are they even dating?”

“Hell if I know,” Yang shrugged. “And honestly, I’m a little too scared to ask what their situation is.”

They spent the rest of their climb chatting idly. It was if they were merely catching up, instead of spending the past two weeks in each other’s company. They’d always been like that. Yang had read of couples who ran out of things to talk about, but that had never been an issue for them. She doubted it ever would be.

When you could see your soul in someone else’s eyes, communication was never a problem.

“Well would you look at that.” Blake was using that underwhelmed tone of hers on purpose. She had to be, because Yang was floored by the sight before her.

“Try to contain your excitement,” Yang murmured, not once tearing her eyes from the horizon. The morning mist had long since given way to midday haze, but the mountain air kept them cool. They had reached the summit. From as high up as they were, the jungle was just a thick blanket of green, save for the deep furrough winding through it. The river.

“We’re probably the first people in decades to stand up here.”

Even as high as they were, they were so far inland that they couldn’t see the coast. In the distance, far to the south, they could even see where jungle eventually gave way to desert. Yang thrust her fists to the sky and cheered. “I hereby call this mountain Mount Blake!”

“Gross,” Blake said, lips quirking. “But good job subverting the cliche of naming it after yourself. Naming it after your wife? How modern.”

“No, no, see I’m naming it after an act,” Yang tugged the faunus closer, arm firm around her waist. “Because you see, this is the spot where I, y’know, mount Blake.”

“Awfully confident. Think you can take me, blondie?”

“What can I say? I’ve had a big breakfast and the cool mountain air has invigorated me.” She waggled her eyebrows exaggeratedly. Making Blake laugh was an easier way to seduce her, rather than attempting at being suave. “So what do you say, kitten? Wanna be the first people to get our rocks off on this pile of rocks?”

“Your puns are so stupid, Yang.” Blake was already pulling her shirt off.

By the time they’d hiked back down, hours later, the sun was setting. “I honestly don’t know why we couldn’t have just spent the night up there. You, me, under the stars.”

“It’s because up there, it gets freezing at night. And no fire, no amount of naked, skin to skin contact would keep us warm.”

“Freezing, no fire, naked skin to skin contact? Sounds like our first time together all over again.”

Blake nudged her with her hip, rougher than usual. “If you wanna climb back up there, strip, and spend the night on the mountain, be my guest. But I can already tell you it’ll way colder than an Atlas airship hangar.”

Yang laughed uproariously. “Yeah but no General Ironwood or Winter to walk in on us after. That was your fault, by the way.”

Her ears twitched playfully. “Well, I did tell you the first thing I wanted to do once we landed in Atlas was you.”

“Literally as we landed!”

This is how Beacon should’ve been. Talking and laughing together as they walked. Shoulders and hips and hands and fingers always touching, unable to ever truly be apart. The humidity could’ve been the muggy late summer in Vale. Several bouts of lovemaking that day alone, venturing out to find something to eat.

The wet heat of the jungle sure was...something. Blake’s nose burned, suddenly unused to it after exposure to the mountain air. The air wasn’t just humid, it was heavy. Wet.

Cloying.

“Yang.” Blake stopped short, the fur on her ears standing on end. “Yang, I smell blood.”

Yang felt Blake’s tension before she heard it, and was immediately alert, ember celica cocked. She scanned their surroundings, searching for the source.

She found it.

“Blake,” the blonde swallowed. “You sure were right about how big those eagles are.”

Blake followed her wife’s gaze, eyes enabling her to find it faster, even in the dim light. Spread out before them on the cold ground, in a mess of its own blood and feathers, was one of the eagles that Yang had marvelled over. Spread out before them like a sacrifice to some wild god, the bird was torn open from the neck down, viscera trailing several yards away.

Walking towards the carcass, Yang was stunned be the enormity of it. Large grimm were common in their line of work, but to see a living, natural animal of this magnitude? Even in death it was breathtaking. From one wing tip to the other, Yang would have had to take several, long strides.

“What could’ve done this?” Blake crouched down closer to it, taking a closer look. “Flying grim rarely ever clash with wild birds, and we would’ve heard a fight between two things this big.”

The unspoken question left was, what could possibly have the power to pull this animal to the ground?

Yang looked closer, trying to ignore the smell. It was a fairly fresh kill, the smell of rot had yet to sink in. Good for their noses, perhaps, but it also meant whatever did this was probably still nearby. The current smell assaulting their senses was from the spilt blood and offal leaking from its abdomen. Yang noticed, with a sense of loss, that the bird had been egg bound.

“Hey look at this!” Yang pointed to the tattered remains of a foot. “It’s got one of those little weasel monkeys in its talons.” Under the blood, one could make out the untouched body of a civet.

Whatever killed this eagle had waited til it was low to the ground before attacking.

“Yang.” Blake’s voice was high, nervous but not quite shrill. “Yang these are human teeth marks.”

The blonde hadn’t heard her wife. She was too busy staring at the hoof prints all around them.