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Winter didn’t generally like being around cheerful or especially talkative people. In a world like this one, it didn’t make logical sense to her that there could be people who always had a smile on their face and a positive outlook on things. Blind optimism was a fool’s drug. It might seem fun in the moment, but will only leave you looking ridiculous and put you in a very bad place.
And then the talkative types- why would anyone talk when they didn’t need to, to near-strangers, no less? It was a waste of precious energy, and it was absurd to Winter that anyone would spill out their life story to people they didn’t know they could trust. In many circumstances, it could get a person killed.
And yet, for whatever reason, Winter didn’t really mind when Amber did it.
She had, at first, been a little put-off. It had been strange to come across a friendly face after so long in the shadows, and even stranger when she’d started telling the group what she’d been up to before Tyrian had attacked, without being prompted. But after a while, her stories became…almost nice. Their little makeshift time had been missing a kindhearted soul like her; someone who did good just because it felt good, and who only wanted to spread nice words around. Better still, the stories kept Emerald and Mercury from bickering; the two teenagers were far more interested in listening to what Amber had to say to argue with each other.
Right now, the topic was how she’d had to defend her grandmother from a Grimm attack while they were camping.
“It was so hard not to use my powers in front of her,” the Fall maiden was saying, “And the, afterwards, she criticized me for not having a more powerful weapon,” she let out a warm laugh, making Winter’s chest tighten. “All I could do was nod along.”
Emerald blinked at her. “Didn’t it feel bad to be underestimated?”
Amber shook her head. “Oh no, that wasn’t the case at all. My grandmother is aware of my talents; she just thinks they’re wasted using a simple old stick to fight with,” she chuckled, “You’d think the elderly would appreciate the more old-school weapons.”
“Weapons only get you so far anyway,” Mercury pointed out. “It’s how well you can fight without them that matters. If you’re only worth anything when you have a weapon, don’t bother fighting.”
Amber tipped her head. “Harsh words, kid. Fair, though.”
Winter nodded. She remembered her academy days, when hand-to-hand combat had been just as much a focus as weapon training. You never know when you’ll be caught-off guard, Ironwood had said. Not all of his teachings had been horrible.
Cinder interrupted the conversation as she stopped the team. “Speaking of camping, we should set up for the night. It’s getting dark.”
Winter glanced at the sky. She’d been so wrapped up in Amber’s stories that she hadn’t even noticed the sun going down. A few stars already sparkled in the darkening sky, and a chill was starting to creep in.
“Oh, good.” Amber stretched and yawned. “Even after years of travelling, I never feel less relieved about getting to rest.”
Winter looked over to where the lights of Vale sparkled not far away. The team were just skirting the city for now, too worried about being seen by anyone who could recognize them, and sticking to camping on the outskirts. They were at least close enough that Grimm weren’t likely to get near, but far enough away from the bustle of the city that few people were ever around to notice them.
“I’m going to get food,” Cinder de-attached her shoulder cape and pulled it over her head. “There should be enough left if you get hungry while I’m gone.”
Winter stepped forward. “I’ll come with you.” She didn’t want Cinder going into the city alone, not when the outer stores were known to be shady at times.
“No,” Cinder’s tone was sharp. “Emerald and Mercury can come,” her gaze darkened. “You can stay here with Amber, seeing as the two of you are so close.”
The touch of venom in her voice made Winter step back again. It was normal for Cinder to be sharp with her in tense situations, but this was coming out of nowhere. Was she…jealous? Winter glanced at Amber, who looked incredibly awkward. Was the shine she’d taken to her that obvious?
“Uh, right,” Amber shuffled her foot. “We’ll start the fire while you guys grab food. Good plan.”
Winter felt a stab of annoyance towards Cinder. Whatever problems the other woman had with Winter daring to like another person, she didn’t need to make Amber feel bad. Especially when they weren’t even dating. Cinder had agreed that they shouldn’t. What right did she have to feel jealous over Winter starting a friendship with Amber?
She simply didn’t have a right. It was stupid. Even if Winter was romantically interested in Amber, now was a ridiculous time to start a relationship. It would be a distraction, a waste of time. Not only was Cinder’s jealousy uncalled for, but it was unfounded. She needed to get over herself.
As the other three headed out, Winter gathered firewood as Amber arranged sleeping bags on the clearest patch of dirt she could find. The team were lucky, Winter had noted, that someone who was used to- and prepared for- camping had joined them. It brought a slight comfort that they hadn’t really had before.
She piled the wood onto a flat patch of ground, arranging the twigs and branches neatly, the way she’d been taught to at Atlas.
“Not like that,” Amber reached over and started rearranging the pile. “Spreading them out like this will create a larger area of heat. Much better for more people.” As she worked, one of her hands brushed Winter’s. Winter tried not to react.
“And get rid of these,” Amber picked the leaves off some of the branches. “They’ll create too much smoke. People will get curious.”
Winter sat back. “Right.” It was slightly embarrassing, but she was more impressed than anything. Once upon a time, she would have believed that her military training was the best way to do anything. And now, here she was, being shown a better way by a country girl.
Amber lit the fire with a quick flare of her eyes. Winter had seen her do it multiple times now, but it never got less awe-inspiring. To think that it was magic- real magic- that only three other people shared in the world. It was incredible, and Winter couldn’t help but feel a rush of envy. How amazing it must be, to have the power to protect the world even when your aura got low. If Cinder and Winter were maidens too, maybe the three of them could actually stand more of a chance against Salem.
The thought of Cinder brought back Winter’s annoyance. She’d thought that maybe her ex-girlfriend had grown out of her rude attitude, but apparently not. Part of her was still the petty, arrogant teenager Winter had been rivals with at Atlas.
The petty, arrogant teenager that you fell in love with, a small voice whispered in Winter’s mind. She shoved it away. Those days were dead and gone.
“I’m sorry about Cinder,” she said to Amber, “That’s just how she is sometimes.”
Amber shrugged. “She’s probably just tired from all the walking. People get short-tempered when they’re tired.”
“Still,” Winter wasn’t going to accept any excuses made for Cinder, “She should know better than to be so rude to someone who’s only here to help protect us. She’s never had a good sense of respect.”
“Hmm,” interest glinted in Amber’s soft eyes. “So, you two have a history, huh?”
Winter tried not to flinch. Sure, that was one way of putting it. She sighed. “It’s…more complicated than that.”
Amber leaned back. “Alright, let me guess…you dated for a while, opposites attract and all that, but then you had a messy breakup over your different worldviews and goals, and then some kind of fate brought you together again, but neither of you can fully get past what split you up in the first place?”
Winter glared at her. Annoyingly accurate, but there was still more to it than that. More than could be summed up in a sentence.
“Hey, come on,” Amber held her hands up. “I don’t mean to pry, I’m just curious.” She put her hands back down, shrugging. “If I’m honest, I figured you guys were currently dating when we first met. Was kind of surprised when I realized you weren’t anymore.”
Winter pulled her knees to her chest and looked away, still not knowing how to respond. For someone who wasn’t trying to pry, it sure felt like Amber wanted to know a lot about her love life.
“Do you wish you were?”
The maiden’s question caught Winter off-guard. She looked back at her sharply, ready to reply with an instant ‘no’, but the word wouldn’t come. Her heart simply wouldn’t let her lie to Amber’s face about this.
“We couldn’t be together even if we wanted to,” she replied, trying to keep emotion out of her tone. “It didn’t work when we were teenagers, and it won’t work now. Things haven’t changed enough for us to have some kind of fairytale relationship.” Wanting had nothing to do with it. There was simply no choice.
Amber didn’t look satisfied, leaning forward. “So, why’d you date in the first place? If you’re so incompatible, I mean?”
Winter shook her head. “It was…a dumb accident. She took me on a date after I lost a bet, and things got out of control.”
That was an understatement. Oh, how things had spiralled. One date had led to another, and then another. What seemed like Cinder just messing with Winter had become genuine, and special. The time Winter had brought Cinder a new dress just to take her out somewhere nice. All the times Cinder had encouraged Winter to sneak out of school at night, and the arguments they’d had after getting into trouble. Their first break from school after they’d started dating, when they’d spent the night together for the first time, and their passion had skyrocketed. They’d searched for any time they could to do it again after that, even if they had to limit themselves to brief moments whenever they were alone for long enough.
Once, Winter had valued the physical moments the most. But every time she’d looked back since their breakup, it was their quiet talks that she longed for the most. The intimacy was good, a close second for sure, but Winter desperately missed when she would lie with Cinder and just…talk. Sometimes they’d idly play with each other’s hair while discussing the future they’d planned.
And then…and then they’d argue. Anytime their plans conflicted, they would argue. When Winter brought up the military, or when Cinder suggested getting out of Atlas. The only thing their plans ever had in common was each other. And, in the end, what they wanted individually had mattered more than their relationship.
“Well, I guess I can’t blame you for falling for her,” Amber cut into her thoughts. “She is fine. I’d say ‘hot’, but y’know…” she shrugged. “Dumb pun.”
Winter bristled, and then felt annoyed with herself. She had absolutely no reason to have a problem with someone else calling Cinder attractive.
Don’t you?
There was that tiny voice in her head again. Maybe that voice was there in Cinder too, and she was simply letting it speak more than Winter was with hers.
Amber caught her eye. “Oh hey, don’t feel left out, you’re definitely a catch too,” She laughed, and it still made Winter’s heart jump. “I dated a guy like you back at Beacon, actually. He became less of a stick-in-the-mud when this other girl joined our relationship though,” she grinned. “We ganged up on him until he learned to relax.”
Winter peered at her. “And what happened with you three?” If Amber could pry, so could she, she figured.
Amber waved her hand casually. “Oh, we just grew apart. It was a mutual decision to go our separate ways. We still catch up whenever we see each other, though.”
“Oh, that sounds nice.” It seemed unfair to Winter that other people could break up so easily and still be totally comfortable around one another.
“New question,” Amber clearly wasn’t done pestering Winter, “If you and Cinder ended up badly, what brought you together in the first place? Of all the people to save the world with, I wouldn’t have imagined you’d pick your ex.”
Winter sighed, seeing no point trying to shake the curious woman off. “I didn’t pick her. I found her after a mission Salem had sent her on had gone wrong. She needed help, and I wasn’t about to let her die. We had a talk,” among other things, “And agreed that the best course was to help fight against Salem. It got us both out of worse situations.”
She stared at the flames, remembering how she’d done so that day. Cinder had, too. Winter wondered if they’d thought of the same thing that time, of the warmth of fire and how desperately they longed for that warmth. And yet, Winter had denied Cinder that.
“I was always curious as to what happened to you,” Amber commented, taking a long stick and poking at the firewood. “Most of Remnant thinks you’re dead, even if the official call is just that you’re MIA. Some even suspect it was an inside job. Wouldn’t have thought you’d just left the military to fight the same secret force that I am.”
Winter stared at her. Only one thing from what she’d said stuck in her mind. “The world…thinks I’m dead?”
“Well, yeah,” Amber was still poking at the fire, “When a high-ranking military officer vanishes on a mission, that’s the general assumption.”
Winter was silent. All this time, she’d figured that Ironwood had known she’d defected. She’d thought she was a wanted fugitive. But if everyone thought she was dead…a sharp pain stung her heart. Weiss, Whitley…I’m so sorry.
She’d tried so hard not to think of them. They were better off without her, after all, so long as they could find the right path. But she’d always assumed they’d known she was alive and simply on the run. She figured that maybe they’d hate her for it, but this…somehow, this was worse. How could I ever show my face to them again?
Weiss would have started at Atlas by now, if their father had let her. And Whitley…what would he be doing if he was alone now? What bullshit would Jacques be filling his head with?
Suddenly, she wished she’d stayed. Maybe she could have gotten Cinder safely out of Atlas, and then gone home. She could have kept her siblings safe, even if it meant having to stay in the military.
“Woah, you okay?” Amber looked concerned. “It’s better than people aren’t looking for you, right?”
Winter shook her head. She’d told Amber enough personal information for the night. This could wait. “It doesn’t matter right now. I’m tired.”
Finally, Amber took the hint. She nodded, and went back to poking at the fire, quiet this time. The outskirts of Vale fell into silence, aside from the sound of crickets and the very faint noise of traffic in the background.
A while later, approaching footsteps brought a new sound to the night. Winter looked up to see Cinder, Emerald, and Mercury approaching, bags in their hands. While Mercury and Emerald set theirs to the ground and began packing extra food into their bags, Cinder walked over to Winter and Amber. Her face was no longer sour, her expression one of awkward guilt and regret.
“I’m…sorry about how I acted,” she said, though she seemed too embarrassed to meet their gazes. “To both of you. Here.” She reached into her back and tossed Winter something wrapped in thin plastic, before tossing another to Amber.
Unwrapping the food, Winter couldn’t resist a smile, having suspected what it was the moment she caught it. A burger.
In that moment, she felt her guilt and anger drain away. Maybe Cinder was still arrogant and petty. But she was also still an awkward dork who never quite knew how to be sincere. Luckily for her, Winter could see right through her grumpy façade.
“Thank you, Cinder.” Winter kept her voice gentle as she looked directly at the other woman, sitting across from her with her own burger.
The slightest hint of a blush crossed Cinder’s face, and she looked away. “Yeah, whatever.”
Affection washed over Winter. How could she even think about abandoning Cinder now? What kind of person would she be if she left Cinder to deal with Salem alone? No, she had to stay. There was no going back now anyway; it was far too late for that.
Right now, Cinder needed her, even if she probably wouldn’t admit it. And whatever was going on with the two of them and Amber…well, they’d just have to figure that out.