"So… did you give out parachutes?"

"No. You will be using your own landing strategy."

"Ah. I see… So, what exactly is a landing strate-GEEEEEEEE!"

Professor Ozpin took a small sip from his mug as he observed the new minds he had been tasked with molding sail through the air with exuberance. Today was a good morning. One that would lead to new journeys he could aid. New paths he could watch over. His eyes shifted to the last two students who had been launched. The girl in the red hood, who he'd chosen to arrive early. The boy with such little confidence, who he allowed in because he saw something in the blond no one else seemed to. They were his gambles. His acts of desperation to stack the deck before trying times arrived. Their futures were malleable at this point, but the impact the would have on the world was an inevitability.

The girl zoomed through the air with little flash. She wasn't so much enjoying it, but she had no fear. Possibility of death was not something that phased her. That made her dangerous and unpredictable. But, she had a soul pure and good. She would always use that lack of fear to help others. That was her way.

The boy flailed helplessly as he flew, unsure of what to do in order to survive. Unaware he had all the power he needed to accomplish such a task a thousand times over. He had yet to find his warrior's spirit. All he knew was the role he was expected to fill. The role he always thought he was too small for. Time would prove to him he wasn't.

So many others flew with them. Warriors and scholars all looking to take their place in the world. The athlete bound by honor and compassion, the stoic prodigy, the free spirit who defied logic, the heiress who wished to defy her progeny, the young outlaw looking for redemption and full of secrets, the guiding sibling with a temper not born natural, and all the others. Yes, this was shaping up to be a very interesting generation of hunters, full of possibility and hope. But with so much destiny colliding, it would hardly be a simple series of events. Things would be trying and hurts would be dealt inevitably. Ozpin knew. He'd been in such a time, once.

Many Years Ago…

Oz winced as he brushed off his dark green peacoat, groaning as he noted the tears that had recently formed in the thick fabric. His landing strategy hadn't gone exactly as he had hoped and he had fallen straight through a rather thick patch of canopy on his way down.

"Not the best start to my year…" he muttered as he activated his aura to heal the nicks and bruises that had resulted from his crash. "...Then again, I'm not dead. That's something, at least."

His wounds healed, the green-clad teen began debating on his next course of action. His objectives were deceptively simple. Find a partner, find the relic, hold your ground. How he would accomplish any of this still had him rather nervous. He had no doubt he could navigate the forest and handle any grimm who got in his way. He was a top notch student; a prodigy in study and a clever combatant. However, in the social spectrum, he was a fish trying to climb a tree. People weren't in his area of expertise and he'd often prefered books and gizmos to social interaction because of that.

How was someone like him supposed to find a suitable partner by simple chance? Would their combat abilities complement each other? Would this person have skills he didn't? Would they be able to bond over similar penchants for caffeine and cookies? Would his partner even like him? Or would they just play along because they had no choice? So many questions swirled around in his mind and he had to put a hand to his forehead in an attempt to quiet the onslaught of uncertainty. When his nerves calmed, Oz decided he might as well keep moving, anyway. A rolling stone gathered no moss, after all, and even if he loved the color green, he didn't love it that much.

The huntsman in training surveyed his options and decided on heading East, where there seemed to be some kind of commotion. He took a walking pace, no sense in wasting his energy by running. He could already sense the dangers the forest presented. They were numerous and ranged from mildly annoying to potentially lethal. If he let his guard down, he'd be dead.

A half hour later, Oz noticed movement in the bushes to his left. He decided now was a good time for a break and parked himself on a log, setting his weapon in his lap. His weapon appeared very unbecoming. Truly, it looked like a simple walking can. His father would joke Oz chose it to look stylish for girls. In truth, a very sharp, very sturdy blade was hidden past the handle. That was just the first trick it contained.

He remained still, turning his head away from the bushes and towards something else. Almost immediately, a beowolf emerged, lunging at him with the hellish ferocity its kind was known for. Its claws only touched bark, as Oz made a wide pivot to flank the beast, simultaneously drawing his blade and stabbing it through the throat. The creature of grimm bled out silently as the huntsman in training removed his sword and flung the blood off.

Just as he replace the blade in his sheath, he noticed the horde that had begun to surround him. I count at least six, his strategic mind activated as he observed the situation. Their advantage: numbers, position. My advantage: surprise. The boy smirked lightly as he grasped the handle of his cane again, rotating the hidden dial just a touch. The beowolves converged on his position quickly. Oz drew his sword on the first monster to reach him, a red cloud trailing from his blade. The steel struck the beast's jaw, giving it a nice wide grin. He leapt back before the wolf could strike back in pain, removing another one's left foreleg, causing it to tumble. He vaulted over the creature, slashing its hind legs as he moved, then raising his sheath to block the swipe of another wolf trying to flank his left side. Before the wolf could overpower him, Oz swung his blade up and stabbed the beast in the chest a few times before rotating to let it stumble forward.

He looked up to see three unscathed beowolves ready to charge him. Stick to the plan. Tag and move. They sprinted towards each other simultaneously. Just before they collided, Oz planted his sheath in the ground, using it like a pole vault. He cleared over the first one, hitting it with a shallow swipe before aiming a horizontal slash at the two behind it. He was only able to strike one before being thrown back by the swipe of the other's claws. He felt pain shoot through his body as his back made hard impact with a tree trunk and he slumped to a sitting position. He recovered just in time to roll out of the path of the monster's jaws as they sunk into the bark. He eyed the faint wisps of red hanging it the air. Now or never. Oz sheathed his blade with force, creating a spark the ignited the dust trail he'd just put into the air. It took less than two seconds until the monsters he fought were encased in the hellish inferno of his design. It took another ten before the flames started to die down.

The boy took a deep breath as he got to his feet. That pack was more organized than he had been expecting. Still, his crowd control tactic had been successful. Looking over the area, he counted six charred corpses, all motionless. Wait a minute… Oz's eyes widened as the revelation dawned on him. Behind him, he could hear light growling and the rustling of scorched grass.

Oz tried to unsheath his sword, but the pain shot through his body, sending him stumbling to his knees. This was bad. He was dead. He was so dead. He heard the beast lumbering towards him slowly, like it was trying to build the suspense. He saw the shadow of the grimm looming over him. The shadow raised its claw, ready to strike. This was it. This was the end.

Oz braced himself for his coup de grace. Just before it connected, a gunshot sounded off. The wolf was still for a second, then fell. Dead before it hit the ground. Oz turned around slowly and searched the forest for his savior. Several yards away stood a figure hooded and cloaked in white. The only part of their body visible was a slender arm holding what looked to be a long barreled revolver with a bladed grip. The gun was polished silver and the blade was pearl like. It looked almost too elegant for combat. Just like its wielder.

The figure swept back their cloak to holster the weapon. The body exposed was clothed in light grey, lined with red. From what Oz could see, the one who saved him was female. She walked towards him slowly, not saying a word. The silver haired boy did all he could to stand, but found himself a little hunched from the pain.

The girl in white stopped in front of him and touched his shoulder lightly, glowing as she did. He could feel his aches being reduced to bearable levels. "Thank you," he muttered sheepishly, looking away in embarrassment. "I'm sure I could've handled him myself, though."

A small giggle crept out from under the hood. "I get how you boys like to act tough and all, but do you really think the first thing you say to a person should be a lie?"

Oz still refused to look up but nodded slightly. "I guess not…"

Another giggle came from the hood. "Let's start over, then. My name's Summer."

The green clad boy finally brought his gaze upward as the girl began to draw back her hood. Her skin was pale to the point it almost glowed. Her hair was a deep black. It appeared to be long, too, though most of it was pulled back into a braid that slipped under the cloak. She had a playful smirk on her lips, clearly finding something endearing about Oz's demeanor.

"So, what are you gonna say to your new partner?" She asked as their gazes locked. Oz felt his heart speed up. He had no idea what to do, what words to use. He decided to go with the first thing that came to mind.

"You… have silver eyes."