Winter stepped over the threshold, feeling only more conflicted as the house's scent hit her nose. On one hand, the last six months in Mistral had been some of the most trying of her life. Finding and moving Spring to a safe location, rescuing a somehow important Ruby Rose from the bandit Tyrian, and helping her sister reunite her huntress team in order to find the Winter Maiden had been nerve-wracking, exhausting, occasionally terrifying, but ultimately rewarding. Though she didn't show it, she was glad she'd eat a hot dinner and sleep in a dry bed tonight.
On the other hand, the house belonged to Qrow. The dwelling wasn't particularly large or small, but it was cluttered with piles of huntsmen gear, tools, empty ammunition cases, and even more empty bottles of every size and shape. In the spaces free of debris, thick rugs covered the floor. Busts meant to look like mounted grimm heads adorned the walls, and furniture covered in animal furs rose out of the clutter like the sea stacks along the southern coast of Atlas. Winter stepped forward and the motion sent a bottle rolling behind one of the couches.
Part of her wanted to pretend General Ironwood had called her back to Atlas, walk out of sight of the cabin, and pitch a tent in the underbrush. But Qrow wouldn't fall for it, and though he wouldn't stop her he'd never let her hear the end of it. Plus, abandoning her companions would be a violation of mission parameters.
"Hey Uncle Qrow, you might want to hire a maid," Yang said, brushing some snow off her jacket. "It smells like someone spilled disinfectant in an armory."
"Ah damn it, my whiskey shelf over the reloading bench must have come loose again."
"You keep whiskey in your workshop?" Weiss asked, fighting to conceal her disapproval.
"Only the bottom-shelf stuff, ironically. Anyway, you won't notice the smell once dinner gets going. Ruby, if you remember how to make Branwen Stew—"
There was a blur of motion towards the kitchen, followed by several rummaging sounds, and the sound of Ruby chopping vegetables.
"—get started and I'll help when I'm done in the workshop," he finished. He took a pull from his flask and turned to the others.
"There's a weapon rack right next to the coat hanger. Make yourselves at home, help yourself to anything that doesn't say 30 years on the label, and we'll get sleeping arrangements set up after dinner."
Qrow looked directly at Winter. "I do apologize for the mess. Usually when I entertain women the lights are off." He winked and left the room.
Winter pinched the bridge of her nose. "Give me strength…" she murmured.
Weiss took Winter's saber and coat, giving her a reassuring squeeze on the arm before going to hang both up. Yang flopped down on the couch with a bottle of beer, prying the cap off by trapping it between the index and middle fingers of her prosthetic arm and flicking her wrist. Winter took a seat next to Yang, letting her head hang back. Blake took a seat at Yang's other side, a black scarf wrapped over her nose and mouth. Yang and Winter both raised their eyebrows.
"Night vision isn't my only faunus-enhanced sense," she said, sounding pained even through the scarf.
"Okay, I thought you were just dressing up as someone from that ninja book of yours" Yang said, grinning. Blake only glared in response.
"Whiskey bottles aside, I actually think this place is nice in a rustic sort of way," Weiss said, walking towards the fireplace.
"You don't mean that," Yang said.
"I don't not mean it. Honestly, after being restricted to the Schnee Manor for so long, you could stick me in a prison cell and the novelty wouldn't wear off for a couple of weeks. Besides, it may not be fashionable—or tasteful—but I doubt anything back home is as warm as some of this furniture looks."
Weiss flopped down on a fur-covered cushion big enough to seat all of Team RWBY comfortably. She hit it with a muted smack and winced.
"Ow! It's like there's bones in the stuffing. Warm though." Weiss' brow furrowed. "Really warm…"
The cushion rose abruptly, spilling Weiss onto the floor. She saw Winter and her friends staring shocked at a spot behind her and craned her head to see a massive beowolf with a coat so thick it seemed to be shrouded in shadow. A glyph flashed beneath Weiss, and she flew through the air, flipping to land behind the couch. The others were standing now, Yang and Winter at the front of the group. Before they could move the beowolf loped closer to the group, cutting them off from their weapons.
"How did that get in here?" Weiss shouted.
"Doesn't matter!" Yang said. "I'll keep it busy while you guys arm yourselves!"
"Leave it to me!" Winter said, light glowing around her as she prepared to summon something to fight the grimm. But Winter never got the chance. Ruby charged out of the kitchen, carving knife raised, and leapt towards the beowolf's back, screaming in fury as she flew.
"NO!" came a desperate shout. Before Ruby could bury the knife between the creature's shoulders, Qrow tackled his niece out of the air, the two of them rolling until they crashed to a stop in a pile of beer bottles. Qrow scrambled to his feet and lurched towards the grimm, placing a hand on one of its massive shoulders.
"He just wants to say 'hi'."
On cue, the beowolf leaned forward to draw its two foot tongue over Winter's face. Winter grimaced, then glared at Qrow speechless. Weiss and Ruby both stood dumbstruck unsure how to process the last minute. Yang palmed her face.
"Uncle Qrow, what the shit?" she said.
"Hey, language! He's impressionable."
"What is he, your pet?"
"He's not my butler."
"THAT IS SO AWESOME!" Ruby squealed, darting over to grimm and running her hands through its fur. She scratched under its chin and it let out a contented sound, its leg kicking the floor hard enough to rattle the liquor bottles in the cabinet.
Blake poked her head from behind the couch, the scarf fallen from her face. "People have tried to domesticate grimm for thousands of years," she said. "How did you manage to tame one?"
"Grimm can't be tamed," Winter said, her voice stony.
"Normally I'd agree," Weiss said, fascinated. "But this one hasn't attacked us even though we're unarmed. Can you think of any grimm that wouldn't attack easy targets in close quarters?"
"So far as I can tell, Beerwolf's just like that. I've tried replicating him with at least two dozen other beowolves; never came close to anything like my buddy here."
"Beerwolf?" Yang asked.
"It's how I knew he was friendly. Watch:"
Qrow produced an unopened beer bottle and clanged Ruby's knife against it. The creature swung towards Qrow, its ears perked up. Qrow lobbed the bottle towards the grimm and it caught it by the neck of the bottle with its mouth. One paw closed around the bottle and it snapped the neck off with a quick bite, spitting the neck into a trash bin. It downed the contents of the bottle and tossed the container into the same bin.
"Now I taught him to recycle, but I figure any grimm that can do that without prompting is tame."
"This is insane," Winter said.
"How come?" Qrow asked.
"IT'S A FUCKING BEOWOLF, QROW!" Winter said, her composure shattering. "You've done countless juvenile, rash, irresponsible things in the time I've known you, but this is a new low of stupidity, even for you." Winter's face flushed and shoulders heaved as she struggled to catch her breath.
"Hey! First, He has a name. Second, just because I don't mindlessly follow codified protocol like certain specialists doesn't mean I immediately let him sleep in the cabin. When I saw something might be different about him, I locked him up in a cave and let Oobleck and some of his academic pals take a look at him. When we were reasonably certain he wouldn't surprise us, we'd let him out to observe once in a while. That led to letting him roam free and locking him up at night, then only when I was gone on a mission. Only after doing that for a year with no incidents did I let him roam wherever."
"What do you feed him?" Weiss asked.
"Grimm don't need food, but he does like a nip of something on a regular basis. Despite the name, he'll drink anything that's been brewed, distilled, or fermented. Just never give him Vacuo tequila unless there's a deathstalker outside."
"Does it make him act like a regular grimm?" Yang asked.
"No, he'll just run off to fight the biggest grimm he can find. That sounds amusing, but in practice it's nerve-wracking trying to prevent a scientific oddity from committing suicide by bar fight."
Beerwolf stretched, picked a keg half the size of Ruby from a corner of the room, and guzzled the liquid within; dropping the keg and letting out a window-rattling belch before retrieving a fresh keg.
"He's got the right idea," Qrow said. "Now that we've all been introduced, let's just settle in and have a nice peaceful dinner."
Qrow and Ruby returned to the kitchen to finish cooking, while Blake and Yang cautiously moved closer to examine Beerwolf. Weiss looked from them to her sister, who stood rigid and livid in the center of the room.
"Winter?" she asked.
The eldest Schnee relaxed, her face unreadable. She calmly walked over to a glass faced cabinet and retrieved the oldest, most expensive looking unopened bottle of scotch from the top shelf. She opened it, taking a long pull straight from the bottle.
"Winter, are you sure you should be—"
"Let me have this Weiss," she said, defeated.
…
Light touched Winter's face and her head exploded. Dinner had passed in a drunken haze, accelerated by the bottle of scotch. After, Winter handed her scroll to Weiss and retired before the others, continuing to drink in the guest room for an hour or two, before collapsing on the bed. Now, her head screamed, her body felt leaden, and her throat was so dry it burned. She groaned, pressing the pillow over her head and attempting to turn onto her other side. Something heavy on her legs arrested her motion.
What the hell? She thought.
She raised the pillow and cracked an eye open to see Beerwolf curled up like a cat on top of the quilt, resting over most of her lower body. It snored, content. Winter sighed, pressing the pillow back over her face.
"I hate you so much Qrow," she groaned.