PROLOGUE: The Woman in the Woods
This wasn't happening, couldn't be happening.
She was running, lungs burning, and twigs cracking beneath her feet. What was going on, what the hell was going on?!
She glanced behind her, at the humanoid black beast chasing after her. It was reducing all in its path into rubble, trees into splinters, boulders into fine dust. Its eery red eyes bore into her, almost as much as her reflection from the thing's pale mask.
Grimm
The thought didn't escape her as she ran in a body that she knew wasn't hers.
She shivered from a sudden gust of wind that blew red rose petals around her.
Torn white cloak flickering behind her, she pulled it in closer to prevent the beast from grabbing it and dragging her down.
Sweat glistened over her face, the exertion of forcing her already injured body forward almost impossible to bare with all the cuts and bruises hampering her movement. Yet she had to move.
Silver eyes narrowed in concentration, she was trained, a thief, a con-artist, and a criminal. It was key in her profession to keep a clear mi-
Damn it! She ducked under the beast's lunge and took off in the opposite direction. She had no time to think as her legs once again carried her forward.
Her red bangs stuck to her forehead - from sweat, or blood, she didn't know - all that mattered was that she was approaching a bend in the woods. She could hear her heart beating in her chest, as she could literally feel the beast's breath wash over her.
She turned the bend, and froze, unable to move as a cliff lay before her.
She felt the hand that gripped her arm first, followed by the dripping of saliva hitting the ground.
She couldn't speak, couldn't qwell the terror building up from within her as the Grimm forced her around to stare at its pale masked visage - forced her to accept reality and really scrutinize the image that lay before her.
A round face encompassed by shoulder length hair, and silver eyes that stood in stark contrast to her previous black, reflected off of the Grimm's mask.
That face.
Was all she could think about as the Grimm opened its maw and bit into her flesh.
That face.
Was all she could think about as she recoiled from the pain and sent both her and the Grimm into the chasm.
That Face.
It was Summer Rose from RWBY.
Never look back, sometimes there are circumstances that just can't be changed - but you know that better than anyone else don't you, Summer Holly?
She woke with a startled gasp, head throbbing, and vision dull and murky. She blamed the alcohol she must have consumed before passing out. How else could she explain her headache? How else could she explain that nightmare?
She shook her head once, then twice, but instantly regretted it as pain bloomed across her body. She choked out a gasp, vision clearing as her senses began returning to her. One by one, everything wrong with her nightmare was coming back to her. The forest she was still in, the running, the Grimm - she shuddered.
Where was it?
Her head snapped back and forth, the motion forcing her to gag from the blood that rushed up into her mouth. The fall hadn't helped her previous injuries, not one bit. At least the Grimm was gone. She couldn't see it anywhere around her; now she just had to deal with her injuries.
Her ankle was sprained, and she must have fractured something in her right arm as it refused to move anywhere above her shoulder. Still though, she willed herself to move by a tree and burrow into the hollow cavity near its trunk. It should give her some time to rest.
Slowly, she closed her eyes and drifted unconscious. Head drooped, she exposed her neck to the world, revealing a mark on her flesh. A dark hole with crawling black tendrils that faded in and out before disappearing completely.
It was the final job, the final act to put her past behind her. How could it have gone so wrong?
Her ears picked up the noise around her before she had the chance to open her eyes. The rustling of leaves, the snapping of twigs. Whatever was near her was short, the sound of the footsteps not heavy enough to provide a dull thump on the ground. Regardless, she readied herself, relying on her experience to dictate how far away the adversary was.
She opened her eyes and blinked, then blinked again.
A boy stood directly in front of her, blond hair, and cerulean blue eyes staring at her with open concern. Hell, he was probably only nine or ten at best. He was barely half her height, and wearing an over-sized hoodie and pants that did little to convince her otherwise.
"Uhm, hi." The boy fiddled with his hands unsure of what to say. "I'm Jaune Arc," he eventually said.
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