I kept walking, on and on, until I reached a gated plot of land on the edge of the city's boundary. Written in green wires of metal arcing above the entrance were the words ‘Now they slumber, forever in bliss.’ I entered the land of orderly tombstones, statues of angels and kindly animals, and the ever-present flowers. In the heart of the cemetery grew a tree: a hazel with branches reaching upward. Nestled between its roots was a tombstone with an ensign of an autumn tree above engraved writing that I memorized years ago:

                                         Auburn Harvest

                            "I'll not leave thee, thou lone one"

I sat with my knees folded under me, in front of my mother's grave. Resting one of my hands on a root, I smiled fondly as I remembered the day I planted a broken branch in the upturned soil of my mother recently dug grave years ago. She had kept it to at her side for years, halting its growth with her Semblance. When I asked her why, my mother had said 'When I'm gone, it'll grow. You can look at it and know that I'm not really gone. I'll be watching for you.' Upon my visit the next day, the hazel had grown taller than I was, and it continued to sprout every day until it towered over the graveyard and statues, shading my mother in her rest. Her Semblance gave her a special way with plants, and this tree showed how amazing her power had been.

The ground where my knees rested was bare, dirty brown against green. As I did every day, I began to speak. "Hi, mom. I hope you've been enjoying the weather, or maybe you can't since your buried. If you can't then it's been very pleasant recently. Not too hot, not too cold, not too windy, and the view has been beautiful. I wish you could see it. Your hazel seems to enjoy it, at the very least." A breeze stirred the leaves as if the tree was nodding. "School's been good too. I'm glad those two don't want to be Huntresses, or that would be a different story."

I hesitated, struggling to voice my next thought. Finally, "It's been… hard… to stay motivated about being a Huntress. I wanted to be like you so much when I was younger, and I jumped at the chance even after you were gone. It brought me so much joy knowing that I was following in your footsteps, and school became the highlight of my life… But those feelings have been fading and everything seems to be so dull now. Recently, our teachers have been talking about what it means to be a Huntress; about how we fight to protect the people and keep them safe. I can't understand that. I think of that, but I feel nothing. I don't care about protecting people, and fighting the Grimm doesn't matter that much to me, so I don't know what to think. All these years, I've been driven to be just like you… but that's not possible.

"Every time you told me about being a Huntress, I remember now that you'd always add how people would thank you and how happy you were that you were the reason they could smile. Even when you talked about fighting Grimm, there was always the mention of doing it to help someone. I don't have that," my voice broke, my chest tightened, a hollow sensation formed in my stomach. I was blinking a lot now, trying to keep from crying again. "Does that mean I can't be a Huntress, or that I shouldn't be a Huntress. If you were here, would you have told me that it doesn't matter if every Huntress felt that way, or that I should do something else? I just want someone to tell me!" My tears fell as I pleaded with her grave. My hands clutched at the grass as I wept.

"I don't know what I should do! Why should I continue trying to be a Huntress when I don't have that feeling? Why should I keep training to protect people when I can't even protect myself from Enyo and Deino? I know I should quit! So why does it hurt so much?" I closed my eyes against the flow of tears as I felt everything that had built up flood out. "It's terrible! Every day, they hurt me! Scare me! Laugh at me! All three of them treat me like some ugly bug, and Father just watches them with that Witch on his arm! I'm so tired of being hurt and scared, but I don't know how to stop it! Their Semblances mess with my head! I want to run, but I don't know where to go… Everyone in town thinks of them as a golden trio that helped a grieving man and his daughter, but they don't understand… I've heard people in the city talk about how they think I'm a ‘troubled kid' and that they are trying to help me in spite of my ‘resisting.' They've got this whole city looking the other way, so I can't go to anyone!

"And if I left, I know the Grimm would kill me. They've been gathering lately; packs of them that settled outside the city walls. It takes so many Huntsmen and Huntress to allow people to come and go safely, but that Witch knows all of them personally! They would send me back if I tried to ask them to take me out of the city. So… what do I do? I feel so trapped: in school, at home, in the city. I don't know what to do? What… What should I do?"

The breeze continued to ruffle the branches. Aside from that, the only other thing I could hear was myself crying. No answer came.

I wiped my eyes with the sleeve of my school uniform. "I know you can't tell me… I know I'm just spouting nonsense to an empty grave… I know that, but if you can somehow hear me, please. I need your help. Please, send me something."

I sat there for several long minutes, but nothing came. I was silent, empty of any more tears to shed. I was about to rise, but something fell onto my lap. It was a leaf, one of the few oranges ones remaining from autumn. It brought up a memory of sitting on a bench in my mother's garden, her making the varied hues of leaves twirl around me, tickling my younger self. She had been telling me a story of maidens and an old man, which had spiraled into one about a woman locked in a tower. She told me how it was the girl's destiny to leave the tower, which she did with the aid of her handsome hero.

"Mom," I had started to ask, "What is destiny?"

She had smiled as she pondered the question. "Destiny… well, that depends on how you see it."

"How do you see it?" I asked."

"Well…" She said while trying to string her thoughts together, the leaves being absently stirred by her Semblance. "I see it as the outcome of your choices. It could be something that you try hard to achieve or something that results from your actions. I guess I see it as… whatever happens based on what you do…" She rested a hand on my head, the scent of the jasmine and lavender she had tended to earlier still on her fingers. "I know that doesn't make sense, but that's the best way I can put it. If you're strong and resilient, good things are more likely to happen. If you give up, then bad things will happen. One way or another, you get where you need to be, and it's all determined based on what you do."

The memory faded, replaced by the hazel and the grave. Fresh tears rolled down my cheek, but I was able to smile a little. "That's what you would say: to not give up, my destiny will get me where I need to be if I stay strong. I used to believe everything you said: every fairy tale, every story. But even now, I still believe in destiny. I just… I don't know where to start. I-"

I stopped. Now that I had stopped sobbing, I could hear something. A faint… chirp… coming from somewhere close. I got up, stumbling slightly since my legs had fallen asleep. Creeping over the tumble of roots, I found the source of the sound. At the base of the hazel's trunk, sheltered underneath a knot of roots, was a bird covered in clumps of mud. At first, I thought it was a crow or raven since it had black feathers. Then, I realized it looked like a dove, but it was just the wrong color. I crouched down and noticed that its left wing was sticking out, bent at an awkward angle.

"Hey there," I said soothingly. "Did you get hurt? Do you need some help?"

The bird looked at me and I gasped. Its eyes were pure red. I now noticed that the clumps of mud were pieces of white bones growing on its surface. A piece that looked like a mask stemmed from the base of its beak and around its eyes.

This is a Grimm.

I drew back my fist, ready to punch the creature until to dissolved into shadows, but the fact that this was my mother's grave flashed through my mind. In that moment of hesitation, the Grimm chirped pitifully. For a second, I saw myself cowering as my stepmother loomed over me. Looking down at it, a small and injured bird, I couldn't find the will to hurt it. With a sigh, I picked up the Grimm. It didn't fight back like I thought it would; instead, it let me hold it in the crook of my arm as I stepped away from the hazel.

I paused at the stone, placing my free hand upon it and sending a silent thanks to my mother. Then, I walked out of the cemetery with the Grimm in my arms.

"I must be crazy, but I'll help," I told the bird. " Do you understand? I'm not going to hurt you."

The Grimm met my eyes, and I sensed that it had, or at least understood well enough. I've heard stories of Grimm that had been so strong that they had survived for hundreds of years. During that time, they had developed some sort of intelligence. Staring at this Grimm, I thought that it was like that, but it had been so small that it had survived among birds that looked like itself and survived since it was unable to threaten anyone. Could it have evolved by simply hiding? If that was the case, then it made it seemed even more important to help it. If this Grimm had survived this long, I couldn't stand it dying due to a broken wing.

"Don't worry, I'll make sure your alright."

In response, the Grimm closed its eyes and nestled against my elbow.