Hurried footsteps crunched against the snow, the heavy sounds of armor and weapons in the distance. The woman stopped behind a tree, holding her sobbing son close,

"Shhh. Shhh Adam, it's going to be okay honey." His mother cooed, careful to avoid the relatively fresh brand on his face as she cupped his cheek.

Adam clung to her chest, globs of tears running down his cheeks,

"Mama I'm scared! Where's Papa!"

She hushed him again kissing his forehead,

"Your Papa protected us. He was strong for us, so we need to be strong for him okay?"

He nodded weakly as he was picked up again, resting his chin on her shoulder. His mother began trudging through the snow once more. She huffed, her large fluffy ears twitching at the slowly gaining footsteps. Picking up the pace, she ran to the best of her ability, the bright flashes of light on her heels. Sweat dripped down her face, the familiar voices of guards creeping in.

As soon as the light hit her back, the crack of a gunshot sliced through the air. She pooled all the energy she had left, thrusting Adam as far ahead as she could. Her legs buckled as the bullet pierced her calf, collapsing into the snow,

"RUN ADAM!"

He hit the snow, tumbling a bit. Adam looked back in horror, staring at the splatter of red against a white blanket,

"Ma-!"

"RUN ADAM! NOW!" His mother sobbed, looking behind her, "Be strong! Be strong for me and your father!"

The boy felt like a deer in headlights, snapping out of the trance at the sound of yelling. He quickly turned and ran, sliding down the steep incline. Adam quickly tucked himself under a hollowed log, nessling under the fallen snow that had blown inside. He tucked his head between his knees, small fingers trembling as he grasped his mess of brown hair. There were no sobs, no muffled cries, just streams of silent tears dripping down his cheeks.

Long after the scanning of flashlights and the heavy footfalls dissipated, he didn't move. His body shook from the cold; stomach letting out sounds of protest from days without a proper meal. After a few hours, he finally moved, crawling out of his small hideaway. He dragged himself through the snow, slowly making his way down the incline to the small village below.

Adam's ragged boots scuffed against cobblestone, shivers racking his body.

"Are you alright, little one?"

He quickly turned, fearfully falling back. The man blinked, about to offer an apology before noticing the brand across his face. He crouched down, offering his hand to the boy,

"It's alright, I won't hurt you."

Adam looked at the outstretched hand; a dark fur covered them, fingernails sharp and pointed. He quickly took the man's hand, clinging to his arm.

"Ghira? What is it dear?"

Ghira picked up the small boy wrapping him in his coat,

"Kali, go draw a bath and get some clothes together."

She let out a small gasp, before nodding and running back into the small inn.

"You're a strong boy; I know you've been through alot but you're safe now."

--

Opal reeled her line in, quickly picking up a net. She skillfully netted the fish, heaving it onto the sand.

"Whew. You're a big one arentcha'?"

She heard a distant roar, looking in the direction of Argus. Ducking down, she pulled her hood up, glancing up at the grimm flying to the sound overhead. Opal grabbed the fish, quickly tossing it in the basket and throwing it over her shoulder. Breaking down her fishing rod, she shoved it in her backpack, picking up her walking stick. She made her way down the coastline, being sure to keep herself calm and inconspicuous.

Glancing ahead, her eyes narrowed at the black mass on the coastline. She rolled her eyes, frowning at the sight. Damn Argus people throwing their trash in the ocean. A small nevermore swooped down at the slump, letting out a caw. Opal's brow furrowed, as a sudden realization came over her; Grimm didn't go after trash. She quickly dropped her pack and basket, sprinting over to the form, walking stick in hand.

The small nevermore looked at her before flying off, seemingly losing interest in its earlier prey in favor for the commotion coming from Argus. She knelt next to the body, reaching out before pausing. Intricate patterning of white and red decorated the back of the man's coat, the familiar shape of a withered rose in the center.

"Oh gods…"

She stood up, the tide methodically splashing against her boots. Adam Taurus; a wanted terrorist and faunus extremist just washed up on her beach. Leaning down, Opal carefully rolled him onto his back, eyes widening. Her hand trailed up to the scar across his face, fingers flinching away before making contact. She quickly checked his pulse, feeling the dull beat against her fingers.

Opal took a deep breath, pulling his arm around her shoulders as she heaved him up. He winced in protest, body tensing in her grasp,

"Strong… have to be…"

She looked to him, stumbling as she dragged him up the beach,

"You look- a lot smaller on the broadcasts; ugh."

--

By what she could only assume was an act of the Gods, she managed to get him, as well as her backpack and basket back to her small cottage. Opal hefted him onto the bed, a loud wince leaving him as he made contact with the mattress. She stripped off her thick coat and gloves, turning her attention back to the faunus.

"Oh this is so stupid; what am I doing."

She patted her cheeks, shaking her head. She was committed now; no going back. Opal pulled the snaps on his jacket open, her attention drawn to the two stab wounds on his chest. They were clean at least, but the position worried her. It was so close to his heart, she couldn't know if he'd make it through the night.

Some careful stitching and awkward changing later, she carefully pulled a quilt over him, pressing the back of her hand to his forehead. He felt feverish, but that was to be expected. Opal gently placed a cool rag across his forehead, before stepping back and staring down at him. She felt doubt every now and then while she cleaned his wounds; however there was always something that willed her to keep going. The brand across his face, the aged lacerations that littered his back.

It brought… A sense of familiarity. Regardless of what he'd done, she felt to an extent, understanding. Letting out a sigh, she blew out the candle by his bedside, turning the light off next to the door. He was in for a rude awakening; she just hoped he would be sensible.

"You've got a second chance. Don't waste it."