Filthepil here. New FanFiction for you all! Hope you all enjoy!

Needless to say, I do not own RWBY, although I wish I do. That honor belongs to the late Monty Oum, for whom this story is dedicated.

Diving to the left, Jaune evaded the swipe of the Ursa. It was an enormous thing, easily eight feet tall, had it been standing on its hind legs. As it was, on all fours, the beast was still around shoulder level. It's head, and most of its back was completely covered with bony white plates, a stark contrast to the black skin. Getting up from his dive, Jaune glanced at the huge chunk of rock missing from the canyon wall. That would have taken out a hefty amount of his aura. Raising his sword, Jaune ran to its side, and swung with all his might. It sunk deep into the thick hide of the Ursa, and stuck fast. Roaring, the Grimm appeared to be surprised he had managed to hit it. Jerking, the Ursa ripped Jaune's sword from his hand, sending it flying. It stepped back a step, and swiped once more at him with its paw. Caught off guard, and unarmed, all he could do was raise his shield.

The swipe connected with the sturdy piece of metal, and Jaune's arm shuddered. Bracing his other arm against his shield, he desperately searched for an opening. Over and over the Ursa struck, and each time he blocked the hit, only losing a sliver of ground each time. Looking over the shoulder of the Grimm, he watched as another Ursa pounded across the rocky terrain, coming to the defense of the first. As the Ursa neared, he decided he had only one option, and threw himself backwards, right as the first Ursa swiped down. He fell with a dull thud onto the ground behind him. He heard a bellow, and quickly picked himself up off the ground. When he saw the scene before him though, he rejoiced to find the first Ursa had completely decapitated the second Ursa. Pumping a fist in the air, he cheered his good luck.

"From now on, you shall be known as Ursa slayer!" Pointing at the murderous Ursa, he mocked it as it poked at the decomposing corpse of its brethren. His victory was short lived however, and his smile faded from his face, as he looked at the dozens of Grimm that were waiting right outside the canyon. All types were represented. He saw a multitude of Beowulf, Ursa, and Boarbutusks just outside in the immediate vicinity. He was just lucky that they could only come through one or two at a time through the small opening in the canyon. They would send in a couple of their own, and wait for him to take those ones out, before sending in more. He'd taken out five Ursa, about a dozen Beowulf, and his aura was almost completely depleted. He wasn't sure how long he had before it ran out and he was overrun. Surely his teammates would find him before it came to that though. They wouldn't let him die would they?

'...But…'

"...Hello?" Jaune called out hesitantly to the couple of Grimm in front of him. It had sounded as though there was someone outside the canyon. It was so quiet though. Maybe his friends had arrived, but were still far away?

His cautious question drew the attention of the Grimm, who appeared to have decided which one would take a hit at him next. He watched as the original Ursa, and two new Beowulf, one covered in bony plates, black flesh peeking through them, peeled off the mass of Grimm, and approached him.

Jaune reached down for the sword at his waist, only to find it was gone. The Beowulf began closing the distance between them with long four-legged strides. Hurling himself in a head-on sprint towards the sword, he hardly managed to get there before the Beowulf got to him. Picking up the sword, he eagerly backpedaled from the large creature hell bent on his destruction. The Beowulf kept advancing on him, albeit more cautiously than his fellows had been. Judging by the number of bone plates dotting its hide, this Grimm was the eldest of the ones that were currently attacking him, and the other Beowulf looked newborn. In the end, the age difference wouldn't matter if he didn't have any aura. Deciding a first strike policy was his best option at the moment, he stopped backpedaling, and after a moment's hesitation, charged the elder Beowulf. He caught it off guard, and managed to stick his sword straight into the beast's stomach before it batted him away with its claws, striking a thin strip of blood across his arm. Looking down at the blood slowly seeping through his shirt, he inwardly groaned, as he was out of aura, and running out of time to escape. The Beowulf collapsed on the ground, not quite dead, but nearing the point at which it would begin dissolving. The Ursa chose that moment to make its move. It rushed him like a bull, and he just barely managed to jump to the side in time. It stopped in record time for a beast of its size, and practically spun on its back paws, in order to face him again. He readied his sword and shield, pointing it at the Ursa, and the remaining Beowulf.

'...I…'

Once again that strange voice. Looking around, he saw no one, but it sounded so familiar. Like someone he had just barely forgotten. It was clear by this point that there was no one there, but he couldn't figure out what was causing the voice for the life of him. He didn't have long to think on it however, as the Grimm outside, and the two inside the canyon began acting up. They began pushing each other, and sniffing the air, pacing back and forth. Looking at his arm, and then at the seething mass of darkness mere meters from where he was, he let out a small whine. Trying and failing to recall his Grimm studies, he wondered if Grimm could sense aura levels, or if they were simply scenting his blood. Either way, they sensed his weakness, and were preparing to make their move on it.

Drawing His scroll from his pocket in the brief pause, he hazarded a glance at his recent messages. Saddened by the fact that he had no new messages, he wondered if his teammates were suffering in the same manner. He desperately hoped they weren't. Their aura levels seemed to indicate they were doing fine. Nora's was still in the green, not surprising for the Valkyrie; Ren's was in the yellow, which was surprising, but it wasn't going down, which calmed him down. And of course Pyrrha's aura was completely full. He shouldn't have been surprised at that; she was a veritable powerhouse, but it still shocked him that someone could be so powerful. As for himself, looking at his name on the small screen, it didn't even have a sliver of red. He could tell he was already dead; he wouldn't be able to finish off all these Grimm without aura. Too bad they had gotten split up. They might have been able to defeat this many Grimm had they all been together. Looking around at the white bone masks of the Grimm he had killed, he determined that he would add at least another dozen to those piles before he left. He wasn't going to let himself die with anything less. Whispering a silent apology to his friends, and his family, he readied his sword and shield.

'...don't…'

The Grimm roared in fury, almost as if in response to the voice, and began charging him. Ignoring Mr. WhisperEverythingISayButSoundVaguelyFamiliar for the time being, Jaune refocused on the Grimm. Their bloodlust seemed to make them even more mindless than they already were, and they trampled each other in their attempt to be the one to kill him. Swiping aside a claw from an Ursa with his shield, he brought his sword in a vertical arc straight onto the unprotected head of the youngest Beowulf.

It immediately killed the Beowulf, and with a sickening squelch, he pulled the sword from its head. He began retreating farther into the canyon, parrying strike after strike, getting in the occasional hit himself whenever possible. As he moved farther and farther backwards, the canyon began getting wider. The amount of Grimm able to rush him at a time would become larger until eventually he was overrun. It would be soon to from the looks of it. Looking over his shoulder the canyon was not very large either. Hardly twenty-five feet to the back of the canyon, the walls were only slightly less than vertical. Given enough time and patience, one could probably climb up it, but that was not a very good plan. Then again, what else was there to do, as he was backed into a canyon with only one way out. Looking back towards the Grimm, it was obvious he wasn't getting out of here that way.

'...hate…'

A spark of recognition lit in his mind, and he let out a groan. Six years, and it was still to soon for this. He wasn't coming back was he? He had forced him out all those years ago in a fit of rage, and he hadn't regretted it once. He had caused nothing but misery for him, and he wasn't ready for him to come back; he wouldn't let him come back!

'...you. Whoa. How'd we get here?'

A/N: More chapters coming soon!