A Hunter or Something

by Coeur Al'Aran

Jaune was a hunter, hunting animals from a young age. Not Grimm, and never people. Not like the so-called 'real' Hunters he wanted nothing to do with. But when an absent sister asks him to help rescue a missing student, Jaune Arc and Lie Ren will both have to put aside their differences and learn what it means to be true Huntsmen if they're to survive the Grimmlands.

7. Chapter 7

This chapter, we get a lecture-style exposition dump. And a new legend of Mouk? Coeur only had to write about half of this, I swear.

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Writer: Coeur al'Aran

Director: College Fool

Chapter 7

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It was a dark and stormy night as the monsoon raged. Trees bent and the wind howled as slashing sleet and raindrops the size of fingers crashed against anything and everything in their path. It was not a time to travel, or a time to be trapped outside.

Yang considered that as she watched the windows rattle and felt the warmth of a roaring fire buffer her body. It was a time to be inside and warm, which she was, and yet the heat from the fire only warmed her skin. Inside she still felt cold, wet, and soaked in failure.

Ren wouldn't have a fire, if he was even still alive enough to feel cold at all.

The thought had haunted her since their mission and continued to do so. She brought her legs up to her chest and huddled into a tighter ball, pressing her cheeks into her knees as she stared into the fire. She was too tired to scream, to rage, to find the person responsible and beat them within an inch of their life. That wasn't even an option. You couldn't fight nature like that, nor a storm that had firmly and totally grounded all Bullheads. You could scream defiance into the gale, but so what?

No one was going to be making any more rescue attempts today. Or tomorrow, or the day after, or the day after that…

She sighed. She was exhausted. Physically for sure, but mentally too. She felt beaten up in way that Grimm alone couldn't. They all did.

Everyone who had gone out had come back… almost. They were safe and sound… most of them. Nora's muffled cries in the distance were a reminder that 'most' didn't mean 'everyone,' and 'safe' didn't mean 'fine.' Other absences were even more telling.

Team RWBY was still whole, small comfort that it was. Bruised, battered, and worse for wear, but alive to feel it. They'd even gotten some sleep on the bullhead back, sheer exhaustion more than anything. It had been a mistake. When she'd woken at the sudden jolt of landing- shot up eyes wide and adrenaline pumping and reaching for her weapons- she'd known she wouldn't be getting back to sleep again soon.

It was night again. How late, she didn't know, and the thick storm clouds had blacked the sky before sunset. Without the sun in the sky, her own internal clock was off. She wasn't the only one. Only one of them was asleep- Ruby, who'd stayed up the whole trip back, and cried herself to sleep after Kalie had been taken away. Ruby slept fitfully the next bed over. Yang was here for her, if- when- her baby sister woke up again.

She didn't know what she was going to say.

The door clicked as the doorknob turned, and slightly opened as someone tried to enter as quickly and quietly as they could. Gold eyes soon looked back at Yang, and understood.

"Still can't sleep?" Blake asked softly, looking at her and the sleeping Ruby and the two other empty beds.

"Not a wink. You want to try?"

Blake shook her head. "Still too on edge. I'd hoped walking would help, but…" her nose crinkled. "Doesn't help that everything smells of wet dogs." At least the kennels were far away.

"At least it's not as bad as Beacon," Yang tried, but the joke fell flat. Her flicker of good humour faded. "Any news with Weiss…?"

"Still with Kalie," Blake answered. "She pulled strings to stay by her side until she wakes up. I don't think she's sleeping much tonight either."

"At least Kalie's alive," Yang sighed, before a groan and rustling in the sheets beside her reminded them of who else was here. Yang rose as quietly as she could, and with a gesture she and Blake exited the room and walked into the inn's hallways, far enough to talk freely.

It was hard, when there wasn't much good to say.

"I'm still surprised they had a doctor they could reach," Yang said, starting the conversation again. "I didn't think a place this out of the way would have a hospital at all."

"They don't, but even SDC needs to deal with broken bones and mining accidents," Blake informed. "That 'emergency room' was just a clinic."

"Well, at least SDC is good for something," Yang tried.

"They had to call in the other town doctor to find someone with any experience in internal medicine," Blake said, before her eyes narrowed a bit more. "Weiss paid for him out of pocket."

SDC wasn't likely to reimburse non-SDC doctors for treating non-employees, after all.

"Well, at least Weiss is good for something," Yang returned. Seeing Blake still frowning, she nudged her partner with a motivation she didn't truly feel. "And Kalie. If she lasted this long, she'll pull through. She's with a doctor now, so she'll be fine."

Blake didn't respond as she'd hoped. Her partner sighed, and put her hands to her face, though no tears were coming. "She needs more than a doctor, Yang. She needs- gods, her face…"

"She'll be okay," Yang said, with conviction this time, wondering if she dared put an arm around her partner. "She's strong."

She had no idea whether she was saying that to convince Blake or herself. Her partner hummed something that might have been agreement, but might easily have been nothing at all.

"How is Team CRDL?" Blake asked. "I saw Cardin with Russel at the clinic before they left. The doctor put his arm in a splint and gave him something for infection until he can get it looked at in Beacon." He probably wouldn't lose it…

"They're racked out in their room," Yang answered, pointing a thumb to one door in particular. Someone had thoughtfully put a 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the handle, which did nothing to hide the slight odour of alcohol emanating from the room. "They had it as rough as us, if not rougher. Someone found them some drink when they got back." It was doubtful anyone had bothered to check their age either. "As for Cardin…"

"Still not talking?"

"He's dealing with his own issues at the moment."

Blake nodded in understanding, and Yang let loose a mixed sigh of her own before her own fist tightened. She'd never thought they'd be the ones expressing sympathy for Cardin, but it was a tough break. Maybe it was because she knew what he was going through to a degree. Losing someone in a forest to the Grimm because of you… that was a nightmare she knew something about. Uncle Qrow had saved her from that when he'd saved Ruby. No Huntsman had been around to save Cardin, or his guide.

It would have been easy to throw this in his face and call it their fault. He'd been the one to take Jaune on his team, after all. From what little she knew, CRDL had gotten along with Jaune as much as RWBY had listened to Kali. But it had been Cardin's choice to ignore him and lose him, Cardin's choice to retreat and leave him behind, and so in a way Cardin deserved the anger and grief he'd been hit with. In a way he'd brought it on himself, more than once.

It would have been easy to blame him for all of that – if there wasn't someone else who could have been blamed more.

Yang's fist began to shake. Another hand covered it. Blake, as always, seemed able to read her like a book.

"It's not your fault, Yang."

"Like hell it isn't," Yang hissed, blinking away tears threatening to come. "I'm the one who met him first, and he found me over the bodies of people he lives with." Her fist began to shake more, and Blake's calming hand was almost a restraint. "Talk about first impressions - no wonder he hated us. If I'd just waited in the room with Ruby instead of going for a drink… if he'd just met you all first instead of me ruining it for everyone-"

"I doubt it would have mattered much," Blake said softly. "You weren't the only one to get off on a bad foot with him. And even if we could have been better, he was…"

What, a jerk? An ass? Someone annoying, but who's help they'd needed, even if they didn't realize it at the time? Someone they were supposed to protect regardless of what they felt?

"…difficult."

Yang swallowed a laugh that might have turned into more of a sob. So what? He was left behind and alone in the Grimmlands now. What mattered more than that? Was that his fault too, just because he hadn't liked them enough for them to like him? Were they going to blame the victim now?

Her fist clenched harder. She liked being popular, but she didn't do this to be popular. And she sure wasn't the sort to want someone to suffer just because she wasn't popular with them. She prayed not, at least.

"It's my fault," she ground out. "I messed up first. I set him off on hating us. If I'd just taken a breath and waited…" Alternatives flashed in her mind. Maybe Blake and Weiss would have their bad encounters, maybe not. Maybe he'd be a grump anyways. But she could have dealt with a grump, or someone else starting off on a bad foot. She could have been smiles and sunshine like a summer day, overpowering the gloom with positivity. At least long enough to find a grateful Ren. They didn't have to be best friends to be friendly. They didn't have to like each other to get along.

She didn't have to know who he was first, to help Ruby keep a promise later.

"Jewels is going to hate me when she hears everything," she predicted morosely.

"You know she won't," Blake returned immediately, as if the prospect was unthinkable. Considering who they were talking about, it almost was. Or would have been yesterday. "At least no more than she ever does when someone calls her that," she tried.

When that didn't prompt a response from Yang, Blake sighed. "It's not just your fault, Yang. You weren't the only one to give a bad impression. I… didn't exactly conduct myself well here," she confessed, looking aside with a shame that made Yang look up.

"That's different, though," Yang protested, defending her partner from herself. "Nobody could expect you to happy out here. It's, like, literally the worst place in the world for you. A Schnee Dust Mine with faunus miners scraping by? Anyone who knows you would know you'd be on edge about that."

"But they don't know me, do they?" Blake returned. "And I… I didn't exactly give them a reason to. I didn't go after the right target, just the easiest. People who weren't to blame. People who couldn't change anything. People who only liked me for as much reason as I gave them, whether they knew I was a faunus or not." She shook her head. "I don't think they did. We all made mistakes back here, Yang. It wasn't just you."

Yang's eyes drifted down once more, and she shifted to lean against the wall, looking away from Blake and out a rainy window.

"What's happens now?" Yang asked, sounding somehow smaller than yesterday. Blake looked out the window with her.

"Well, for now… we're grounded," Blake admitted "We're stuck here until the monsoon lets up regardless. If Ren's beacon is still alive and moved afterwards, we might get another chance if we beg the right people."

"And if it's not?" Yang asked. It wasn't the idea of begging that put her off. They both knew exactly how much longer Ren's beacon was supposed to last if left on.

"…they already listed Jaune Arc as missing," Blake informed. She'd seen a dog faunus, a pretty old and ragged guy, struggling to hide his tears. "I don't think they'll need much to add Ren to that list."

"Damn it," Yang hissed.

"His family has to be told. They live outside the walls."

"I thought Ren and Nora-"

"I meant Jaune."

"…damn," Yang hissed again, before casting a look at Blake. "Is she…? In this weather?" she added, looking nervously outside.

"I saw Pyrrha with her. I think she wants to be away from us for a while," Blake guessed, and her lips turned down. She clearly didn't blame her.

"Ruby's going to be devastated if her first friend ends up hating her." More devastated than she was already, at least. Another thing Yang didn't know how to fix. "I hope they can get over this."

"Same here," Blake agreed, though she'd never been the warmest towards either of them. "Speaking of which…" she trailed off. "How is she?"

"Hm?" Yang grunted.

" You know... Nora."

Yang looked back down the hall, and towards the door past Team CRDL and the 'Do Not Disturb' sign. There was nothing exceptional about it.

Not since the crying had stopped for a little longer, at least.

"She's sedated again," Yang figured.

"Still?"

"Team CFVY isn't taking any chances. You saw how she was back there." Back when shouting had turned to shoving, and even Pyrrha had been thrown back as the maiden tried to run into the woods and to her certain doom. Yatsu had had to restrain her. Velvet had had to do more when the ginger wouldn't calm down. No one had wanted to take chances with her inside a fragile bullhead.

"But still... isn't this a little too much?"

Yang frowned, knowing what Blake meant. But also what Coco had said when she poked her head into their room a few hours ago.

"They don't… they don't think she should be alone right now. They're taking shifts staying with her. At least for the monsoon." At least for so long that a single unattended moment could see her bolt into the forest, be lost amongst the raindrops, and never be seen again.

Or worse.

"They also said we should probably stay away for now. That she's volatile, and they don't want us setting her off if she sees us. Especially since…"

The uncomfortable topic floated in the air between them. Losing a partner was a strange thing to consider. It was also surprisingly rare. Most Huntsmen teams lived together and died together. If they lived, they grew to old age and told tall tales to each other's children. If they didn't, they tended to fall together simply because they were the type to stand by each other even the face of impossible odds. When they didn't- in the rare cases that one tragically outlived the other…

It changed people. Uncle Qrow, never the sentimental sort, had once said it was like losing half of everything you were, including your reason to live. At the time, she'd thought it Qrow's way of explaining why Daddy was acting so strange. Now, in hindsight...

There'd been a reason Uncle Qrow had stayed with them for months. He hadn't been there just to take care of the two girls, but to watch out for all three of them. Especially the third.

But Dad had pulled through. He'd had other reasons to bring him back from the edge. His teammate Qrow, but also his little girls. He'd gotten better, eventually. Still changed from who he must have been before, but resolute in his own way. He'd been determined to honour Summer's memory however he could, even if it was only by looking after their children.

Not everyone made it through like him, though. Not everyone gave themselves the chance to.

"Blake, if anything ever happens to me, promise me-"

"Don't," Blake whispered, throat tight and eyes closed. It was as close to a plea as Yang had ever heard from her partner. "Please don't ask me that. Not now."

It wasn't the answer she'd wanted, but maybe it was answer enough. Yang glanced down and sucked in a quick breath. She'd only known her partner for half a year or so. Ren and Nora had been together forever, or near enough.

If the thought of Blake gone hurt, what must Nora be feeling right now?

Maybe Blake wondered that too. "I'm going to go for a walk," Blake suddenly said, wrapping her borrowed rain cloak about herself. Before she could run off though- before she could run down the stairs and run away- she stopped, hand on a railing as she looked back.

"Yang, I-" she paused, eyes wide, and shook her head. "Never mind," she declared, before looking back with calmer, softer eyes.

"Do you want me to bring something back?" she offered. "If we're going to be staying up late and all."

Yang relaxed, at least for now. "Yeah," she accepted with a relieved smile of her own. "Thanks. I'll go check on Ruby, then. Don't be too long." Be safe, she didn't say.

"I won't," Blake promised. I will, she meant.

She left.

It was only when her partner was gone that Yang pressed her face against the cool glass of the window and let out a long sigh. The smile from a moment ago faded, and the inner feeling of wrong and incomprehension returned. Even if Blake had brought answers, she couldn't answer all things.

"Why did you have to go on a solo mission, anyway?" she asked nobody present. "Why would you ever do that?"

Ren, of course, gave no answer.

/-/

The rain and wind outside didn't so much buffet Blake as violently assault her, threatening to tear the cloak from her body while also doing its best to drown her by forcing rainwater down her throat. She tugged the water-proof fabric against herself and forced one foot before the other as she trudged through the rain slick dirt – or mud – path. There had never been weather like this in Menagerie or Mistral, but maybe that had been because she'd always had somewhere to hide. Even White Fang tents protected from the worst of the elements.

Out here they were at the mercy of the elements, and were it not for the flood and storm defences the buildings had put up, she feared they might have been torn away. To her shock, there were a few others like her running about. Most of them stopped to check sandbags and looking for storm damage. When the wind whipped their cloaks about, she caught glimpses of SDC logos beneath.

The snowflake logo alone filled her with a flash of hard-learned resentment, even if they were trying to limit property damage and by extension protect people. They were probably just doing it because they feared a loss of productivity, and thus profit. Still, she couldn't exactly hate them for it, even if she was content to let them struggle in the storm while she went somewhere warm and dry. With a sight lost to the storm she trudged past them, headed to the tavern down the road from the inn. It was familiar, and deservedly so. It was where she'd come with medical supplies earlier, after Yang had had her little fight.

They hadn't exactly welcomed her with open arms before, even though she'd been carrying medical supplies. Now with her hood and cloak wrapped tight about her, she probably wouldn't be recognised.

That was probably for the best.

The wooden door slammed open the second she unlatched it, the wind taking it and tearing it from her grasp. Every face in the room turned her way, and the sound of piano music stopped, but the response to the cliché of an unknown figure shrouded in a black coat was just a bark of laughter. People turned back to their drinks within moments, paying her and the puddle in the doorway no mind. They were clearly used to such ridiculous weather and all the trappings it brought with it, even as she made her way to one of the few openings near the bar.

Surprisingly, the bar - more of a saloon really - was actually crowded. Or maybe that wasn't surprising given the storm outside and the fact the mines were closed. Everyone was stuck indoors. If you weren't going to sleep, and it was either inside alone or inside with others, then why not go where everyone else would go? Candles were lit for a steady glow, cards were being played, and that piano she had heard earlier was at work once more on a mostly upbeat melody. Something rag-tail? Blake had never been much for music, but faunus music had its niches. Surprising to hear it out here, but given the number of faunus appendages she saw maybe it shouldn't have been. What was more surprising was how little the humans in the crowd seemed to care, drinking and talking with faunus and other human alike.

"Warm drink?" the human at the bar asked as she sat down, indicating a large barrel uncorked and beside him. There was steam rising from the top of it, and though it wasn't what she'd originally come for, Blake's nose quickly caught the scent.

"Is that… spiced cider?" she asked, spirits lifting despite herself. It smelled good and looked better, and Yang wouldn't begrudge her a quick break as long as she brought her some.

"Indeed it is, little lady!" the bartender exclaimed, pleased at his pride being recognized. "It's a local recipe, and made from apples that only grow in this region. It's something of a tradition here to warm up a keg for the monsoon season. Would you like some?"

"Please," she said, nodding and accepting the warm mug when it was offered. She let some lien clink onto the bar. She recognised the barman from earlier – the same one who'd helped her patch some injured men back together. He'd given her thanks but no warmth then. Given his attitude now, he probably didn't recognise her. He'd probably recognize she wasn't someone he recognized soon enough, though, though maybe he'd assume she was one of the newer Huntresses who hadn't made a mess of things yet. "Thank you." she said, keeping her head low. He slipped away a moment later.

She brought the cider to her lips once he was gone, and savoured the warm, rich taste. He hadn't been lying when he said it was spiced. It was more the heat than anything, but it warmed the bones in a way that the inn fireplace hadn't. There might have been a bit of spirits in it as well - by design, not prank - but only enough to ease tongues rather than escalate tensions. No bar fights were happening here tonight, since rather than slap their lips and belch rowdily, men and women were sighing in contentment, closing their eyes as the heat ran through their bodies.

It felt… different to Vale, and not in a bad way. Though the people drank, they didn't seem to do so for the sake of getting drunk, or for causing trouble or picking up women. Men and women of all ages sat at tables chatting, and though voices were raised, it was usually in laughter or talking about lighter topics. Maybe that was the point of the semi-hard cider. Something for all ages and all races to enjoy and share in. It wasn't bad, for rustic specialty. She tried not to think about how much anyone was (not) being paid to pick the apples, and took a few seconds to savour the peaceful atmosphere.

"...Beacon…"

Beneath her hood, her ears twitched in the direction of the conversation. She took another sip, only turning her head enough to glimpse at who was talking.

"It's a damn shame," a burly man said. "I heard one o' them came back broken, sobbing and crying. Can't say what they found, but doesn't look good."

"Came back with less than they went with," another said. "Never a good sign."

"Doesn't get any easier," a third agreed. "Hope the poor lass they brought back gets over it. Time heals all wounds, an' all that."

Blake kept her head down, but was grateful for the sentiment nonetheless. It was good to see the people didn't have any ill-will towards them over what had happened. No one was wishing 'the Blonde Bitch' was the one suffering either, though Blake saw few patrons with signs of injury.

"Damn shame about Kalie, though," someone said. "I heard her crying from down the road."

"Well, what do ya expect?" some heavyset and heavily scarred miner asked. "She's a girl. Lass wasn't ready for the likes of that."

"I'm a guy, and I'd be crying too if somebody took a meat grinder to my face," retorted his partner. "I seem to remember you blubbering like a baby when you got those scars, bub."

Angry, and vulgar, denials followed. "It's not the same," the scarred man insisted. " 'sides, it's not like it ruined my future. Not like a need a second eye to aim or 'unt," he slurred. "'sides, weren't them Huntresses supposed to be protecting 'er? I thought they came from that fancy school or something. Can't even protect one li'l girl?"

Blake had to take down a deep breath to bottle down the shame, and other things. Excuses were easy. Results didn't care.

"It's a shame, no two ways about it," a faunus man, slightly younger, said. "Especially with how she looks. Or looked, I should say," the slightly pretentious… peacock?... faunus said. "If what my sister said is true, no way she'll be able to keep anyone around now. Who's to take care of her in her old age if she can't get a husband?" The preening peacock melodramatically sighed. "Even if she did go to that Schnee-licker Conman first, I suppose I could-"

Blake had to take a breath for other reasons, faunus or no, before a hefty mug of ale solidly came down on the table in front of him, frothing over and spilling on his pants. Too solidly to just be by accident.

"I suspect lil' Kalie will have friends who can help about that for a long while yet," a middle-aged but decidedly unimpressed barmaid hinted. "She always was a dear bringing in the deer for cheap, and that don't need no pretty face to be remembered. I don't think she needs some second-rate washed up artist sniffing around before she's stopped bleeding. Why don't you try something when you've got more than sweet words and second-rate scribbles to sell to anyone fool enough to play with you?" she scorned.

That seemed to fluster him, to ever-higher octaves. "Second- second-rate? Second rate?! Artist! I, I will have you know good lady, am a novelist!"

"Suuure you are, dearie," the waitress sneered, and not one bit because of his race. "That's why you're here drinkin', with the rest of the miners."

"…I just have a case of writer's block that's all," the subdued voice replied, but attention had already turned.

"Is a shame about her," a more serious-minded worker down the line. The miner was one of the rare 'she' miners, a stocky female faunus who could only have been a gorilla. "I don't care if she gets married or not, but I do care if she can bring in food. If she can't, that's one hunter less to buy from. We were already down one hunter. Now it's two. Three with Jaune." She took a long pull, and there was a broader silence when her glass came down hard.

"Belts gonna be tighter around here for a while. At least 'till Jacque gets back."

No one disagreed, and the discussion lingered on the latest rumours of Kalie's status. Being their Guide, her injuries were still a sore topic. They would be until she woke up, and would probably persist long afterwards.

"What was she doing out there anyway?" she heard someone ask out loud. "A girl like that was never fit to be a hunter. Should've stayed safe behind the walls."

"You sayin' it's her fault?"

"O'course not! Just… she was never right for the job, you know?"

"Can blame the Arc for putting it in her head," someone complained, "You know the two were together for a while. She probably felt she had to get 'is attention. He never did have much time for anyone that couldn't walk into the woods without wee-ing 'emself."

"That idiot," the first man hissed. "He should 'ave known she was just going to get herself killed, chasing after 'em. I thought she'd learned better when she got with Con."

Blake shifted towards the voice, surprised by the tone of muted hostility and wondering what it was about. Before she could turn fully she caught his name at another table and subtly listened in on their chatter.

"You think it's the Arc boy's fault?" a woman didn't quite whisper.

"Must be," another woman replied. "Uppity sort, wasn't he? Always thought he was better than all the other hunters, better than Huntsmen even, when he was half the weight. Dunno why Mannie started paying him to go twice as far to bring back half the meat, but my man wasn't the only one glad he was gone longer and longer. Less selling his meat on the cheap, more for the rest of us," she asserted, clearly missing no meals herself.

"Didn't he make it back from the Grimmlands, though?" her neighbour asked, blinking owlishly. "I saw it in some fancy magazine or something. He got some special dust or something from the lost zones. Not the Grimmlands, but, you know…" the neighbour blinked more. "The real Grimmlands, the ones no one's ever mapped since ever."

"Bah, hogwash. Don't believe that nonsense. Everyone knows no one comes back from past the Unmapped Mountains. That boy didn't chart nuthin,'" the lady said. "Even he couldn't say where he got it, mighty suspicious if you ask me. Was probably just got high in the forest and found that dust somewhere and spun a yarn." The woman scoffed loudly. "Boys like him are always desperate for attention and to seem bigger than they are. You saw how he acted around those huntsmen, right?"

"Like he hated them through and through…"

"Hated them for being bigger than him, more like. Arrogant, silly boy… I feel bad for his ma'. Now there's a nice woman. Makes the nicest things from her leather and loom. Not her fault he wouldn't learn no manners from her."

"I'll feel bad for you if you're speaking ill o' the dead," a nearby man growled. "Whatever 'is faults, he was one of us. Don't you be badmouthin' that."

The women started to talk in a lower tone, shooting glares at the man who had dared call them out on their behaviour. Whatever other unpleasant things they had to say, she could no longer here. What she'd already heard was enough to have her thinking, however.

So, he wasn't entirely popular here either. Arrogant was one way to put it, but she didn't really think it the truth. He'd disliked them, sure, but there'd seemed to be more to it than a desire to be seen as better than them. It felt too personal to be arrogance.

Now that she was looking for it, she caught his name in other snippets of conversation. It made sense since he was the news of the town for his disappearance, but the range of opinions was large. Some seemed to consider it his own fault, a cause of someone not listening to their betters in the strong-looking Huntsmen he'd been with. Others spoke of him with the kind of detached sympathy only someone who didn't know a person could, commenting that it was `such a shame`, but without any real empathy.

Others just spoke of him in general.

"Strange boy, he was," one older miner remembered. "Nice enough when he started selling meat, but he never really fit in, even back then. Never really looked comfortable around people or in a crowd, 'specially not underground. Always with his back to Edge and looking out into the Wildlands."

"Liked his own company more than he did anyone else's," another woman added. "Always knew there was something off about him. Told my Jessica to stay away, I did, not that I think he noticed. Not a bad lad, but not quite there if ye know what I mean. Didn't want her to feel the 'eartbreak."

"Good call there, Mary. You do good by your girl. You really do."

Blake looked back down to her cider. People never truly understood those who were different, and in that it seemed Edge wasn't much different from Vale or anywhere else in the Kingdoms. The people here might have been more accepting of animal parts, but it seemed they were no less wary of those who didn't fit into the same, accepted mould as everyone else.

"Speaking of him, I saw her skulking around too," a man not two seats down the bar muttered to his companion.

"Her?"

"His better half, if that's such a thing," the first growled.

"The Arc girl…?" The second man grumbled something and spat to the side. "Lot o' guts she's got coming back 'ere after what she did. If Jaune's really dead, it's on her head. Jaune's hasn't been at his best since she snuck off and took his ace, damn thief."

"Too true. Jaune ain't bad, no two ways about it, but he ain't half as good without his ace. He was damn mad when he learned, and when he returned… whoo boy. You know that thing he does, when he looks at you like you're less than the thing you scraped off your shoe? He was like that for a month. Even 'is uncle was glad when Mr. Mann found that long trip long aways to cool 'im off."

"He was mighty pissed, alright. I wasn't surprised though, just surprised she waited she long. Even when her head was in da clouds she had better places to be than here. Always thought she was too good for us folk."

"Always said the frontier's no place for a Jewel," the first said – and both laughed derisively at the obvious in-joke. "Saw her skulking about outside, probably off t' spread the bad news to th' others."

"She's bad news herself. Cursed is more like it. Not a man around her doesn't come to something bad sooner or later. Feel sorry for the missus, though. Talk about a bad year- first 'er daughter, now the son? Who's she gonna turn to after this?"

"She can turn to me if she likes," someone else boasted, overhearing. "I wouldn't mind showing her how a real man handles things."

There was a loud scrape of wood on wood, followed by a clatter. Silence overtook the saloon in an instant, and Blake's eyes – along with everyone else's – were drawn to the man responsible. It was a dog-eared dog faunus who struggled with his deep breaths.

"How dares ye," he hissed, clothing ratty and yet eyes flashing with clear anger. "Ye speak ill of Jaune for all he's done fer us? And you," he said in a thick accent, pointing to the bar. "You think Jacque would be happy t' hear ye say tha' about his sister? Maybe I'll tell him next he comes by, see what he thinks of ye bein' a real man."

"Oh, sit down, Dogpatch," someone yelled, followed by raucous laughter. "He didn't mean no harm by it."

"An' listen to you all badmouth 'im? He's put food on ma table, and prob'bly done the same for yes in turn, not to mention 'erbs and medicine and runn'in letters to the next town over. Ye all be forgettin' that, I see."

"No one's forgettin' nothing', Dogpatch," someone else called, "but the lad's done for. Left behind by Huntsmen, and against Duke no less. Even Jacque was no match for the Duke when he was in 'is prime." There was a long and awkward silence there, and Blake joined in wholeheartedly, staring down at the wooden bar.

"Then ah'll leave ye all here to chatter and speak ill o' them," Dogpatch said, snatching up his drink and downing it in one. "But mah money is that Jaune ain't done yet, not by a long shot. And when 'e comes back, I'll tell 'im I told you so."

Not a person spoke as he slammed the mug back down on the table. Whether or not he was right or wrong, his words had cut many, Blake included.

Would things have been different if she and Yang had held in their frustrations and not caused a scene? It was easy to think so, and to blame themselves, but she wasn't so certain. Kalie hadn't been a bad guide by any means, but they'd failed to heed her words. She wanted to say otherwise, but she was sure it would have been the same with him – albeit with more arguing. Maybe standing up to them would have been enough. Or maybe they would have still been cocky and arrogant, sure that a journey into the Grimmlands was the same as a stroll below the cliffs of Beacon.

That was their true mistake.

And there's no telling if things would have been worse had Kalie been on Cardin's team, she thought, sipping her lukewarm cider. Maybe not, but maybe. Team RWBY was stronger than CRDL, and that might have led to Kalie being maimed and not just mauled. It was hard to say and she sighed forlornly. What-if's were always hard.

"That's a mighty heavy sigh," someone said, laying a hand on her shoulder from behind. "Come on, lass, why don'tcha come play cards wit-"

He froze.

The men beside her froze, as well. Blake knew why.

Whether the man had meant it or not, he'd drawn down her hood when he touched her, and her hair and bow were revealed to all, along with her face and parts of her neck. It wasn't her faunus features that startled them – if they could even tell she was a faunus. In truth, it was how clean her cheeks were, lacking any soot, dust or mud like the hard-bitten miners. Her clothing too, what little that could be seen, was in contrasting black and white – as opposed to the greys, browns and mottled green of the residents.

The man took a nervous step back. All conversation came to a sudden halt, and the sound of music trailed off. In the corner, a pair of dice clicked against a table as they fell, but no one dared collect any winnings when all eyes were on her.

The message was clear. They were no longer safe, and she was no longer welcome.

"Huntress," the bartender greeted, his voice wary and measured but in no way warm like it had been when discussing his cider. Not surprising- barely a day ago he'd been picking customers up off the floor after her partner had put them there. "What can I do for you?"

"Just some food to go," she said, finishing her drink and standing. She didn't bother drawing her hood back up, and the man wordlessly brought forth some wrapped packages soon enough. He didn't even ask for payment, but she tossed some lien on the counter anyway and carried them away and to the door. No one challenged her, though her aura tingled as some scowled at her back as she passed.

Whatever they thought of Jaune and Kalie, it seemed they thought worse of the Huntsmen and Huntresses of Beacon for failing them. Whatever good will they'd enjoyed before was lost. As Blake left the tavern and slowly heard the conversation return, she shook her head and pushed into the storm. The stares, whispers, and dirty looks didn't bother her, nor would they bother her team.

After all, the locals couldn't possibly hate them more than they hated themselves.

/-/

Ren half-staggered, half-slumped down onto a rocky outcropping and shook his head. Water, more than he'd ever thought possible, flew off him and splashed around the interior of the cold, dank cave. His body felt weak and heavy and he wanted to lay down and sleep. That was a trap, however. Even he, with his limited knowledge of wilderness survival, knew sleeping when wet would be a bad idea.

"It's a little early but we'll stop here for the night," Jaune said easily. "If I'd gotten any sleep last night, we could keep going," he grumbled. "My bad."

He didn't sound very apologetic. No, his ire seemed to be directed elsewhere, or rather at someone else not present…

"No problem," Ren panted, struggling to catch his breath without clutching his side. He wished that could have come out a little better since he didn't want to suggest a Huntsman like him had less stamina than a civilian, even if he was a hunter. He'd promised himself he would listen to his guide a little more, but call it bravado or something else but the last thing he wanted was to come across as a burden.

A rest sounded wonderful. Though…

"Will we be safe in here?" Ren asked, indicating the cave entrance. Finding a cave had been half the challenge. Finding one that Jaune didn't immediately back away from had been harder.

"We'll be safe. Look," Jaune said, indicating the entrance of the cave. It seemed like a perfectly normal cave entrance to Ren… but maybe that was the point. "It's perfectly dry outside of the raindrop splashes. There's no mud or water trail from a Grimm walking in. There's also a slight slope up, so we won't have to deal with water flowing in during the middle of the night."

That sounded… quite good, actually. Ren probably could have fallen asleep regardless, but he'd appreciate not being woken up wet in the middle. He'd have to remember that observation in the future.

"I don't usually like caves," Jaune continued, "but since most Grimm will have found one already for the weather, and this one is empty, we're probably good. I'll set up some traps just in case, and have my bow ready for the worst, but honestly we shouldn't even need sleep shifts tonight."

That sounded good – especially the suggestion he'd be able to sleep uninterrupted. He hadn't dared take much of it before for fear his Semblance would wane and leave it unprotected. Knowing Jaune didn't need it however, and knowing that the storm would keep the Grimm away, he felt he could take the risk and let it recharge.

"We should get a fire going," Jaune added as well, once they moved in.

"The wood outside wet," Ren said despondently, looking down at his - Lee Ahn's - bag. The contents were soaked despite his best efforts – and the smoke such a fire would produce might choke them.

"Outside might be," Jaune said. "This isn't." He reached into his pack and a small bit of wood wrapped in some water-proof material, likely a rain coat or something similar. "Tinder, and just enough fire starter to get something else started."

"You've been carrying a block of wood this entire time?" Ren asked, incredulous. Jaune just shrugged.

"Just enough. I knew the monsoon was coming, and I don't like to take chances. You never know when you'll need to start a fire. You know how to do that?"

Ren nodded. "I may be from the city, but I'm not incompetent."

Jaune chuckled. "Show me what you got, city boy."

The fire took a few too many tries to get going, much to his embarrassment. That was mostly due to how his hands were soaked and shaking slightly in the cool, but not cold, night air. Summer was summer, but wet and humid nights weren't necessarily warm. Even with them being in the cover of a cave, the wind slipped through in places, threatening to snuff out the small sparks he was able to generate.

In the end, though, he proved his perseverance the greater and was able to cultivate a flame without Jaune needing to step in. that grew into a campfire he could be proud of. Even his critical friend was forced to agree, warming his hands near it and basking in the heat.

"Lay out some extra sticks from outside near it," Jaune suggested. "They might not burn tonight, but they'll be nice and toasty come the morning. I'll wrap them up tomorrow."

"You think this storm will continue?" Ren asked.

"Are you kidding me? It's the monsoon. If we see the sun in the next seven days, we'll be lucky. It won't always be this hard, but it's going to be wet. Normally I'd say we don't want to travel in this even if you're familiar with the area. But we're in extenuating circumstances, and the rain keeping the Grimm indoors makes it the best time for us to get out of the Grimmlands."

Ren could believe it, since the rain was sheeting down with enough force to cut off all vision a foot or more in front of the face. Considering the quantity of it, some of the nearby rivers and streams must also have started to overflow, which meant the landscape could have been incredibly treacherous.

He brought a hand up to his hair and started to wring it dry, but was stopped by an unkind chuckle.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," was all Jaune said.

"What?" Ren asked.

Jaune pointed, Ren looked down, and saw immediately. Already the puddle of water pooling beneath him was flowing downhill… right towards the part of the wall he'd placed his bag. Already the clothes he'd laid out to dry were being re-soaked by the water source that was him.

Ren hurried to move the clothes out of the slowly growing puddle, even as Jaune's chuckle at his expense echoed in the chamber. Jaune made no move to help, and started fumbling with his own bag.

Ren froze when a pair of trousers slapped wetly down onto the rock beside him – followed immediately after by underwear and the leather jacket. Was Jaune-? He heard footsteps come up beside him and flinched, keeping his eyes fixed at the wall straight ahead.

"W-What are you doing!?" he whispered. In his head, it sounded loud in this small cave.

He flinched again when the silhouette a bare body appeared on the wall beside him, illuminated by the fire before Jaune knelt back down near his backpack.

"Our clothes are soaked," Jaune said, not unreasonably. "I don't know about you, but I'm going to wring them out." So saying, he held up his jacket between both hands and gave it a squeeze and a twist, releasing a stream of water. It splashed below and ran from the cave mouth to join the flood outside.

It also reminded Ren of just how soaked his own clothing was. The thin linens did much to allow freedom of movement, but currently felt like they were sticking to his legs and arms.

Jaune noticed. "Don't tell me you're going to sit in them all night?" he asked. "You'll catch something."

"I'll wring them out and hang them to dry when I go to sleep," he said.

"Might as well do that now. Might still be damp in the morning."

Yes, there really was no reason not to. Still, he hesitated.

"Don't tell me you're shy." Jaune laughed. When Ren failed to respond, his eyes widened. "Wait, you are? Ha!"

Even if it was at his expense, it may have been the first sincere laugh he'd heard from the other boy all day.

"Some brave Huntsman you are," Jaune needled. "Afraid of lil' old me? Come on, we're both men here, right? Afraid to see something you'll like?"

Ren's eyes closed as he let out a long sigh, and tapped his inner semblance just briefly. Though Jaune hadn't phrased it as such, there had been many times where people accused him of being a girl, often for his slight frame and pink eyes. He had a feeling if he brought that up, Jaune's would see it as an opening for something worse.

Reluctantly, he started to peel off his clothing. There was nothing wrong about it but he still felt embarrassed, and quickly brought out his sleeping blanket to cover himself he wrung his clothes out- even though that inevitably made the blanket wet too. A small price for modesty.

Jaune didn't seem to have any such restraint, though thankfully he didn't feel a need to walk in front of Ren to prove it. When Ren turned Jaune had already changed, wearing simple burlap pants and a plain long-sleeved shirt along with what looked to be… hand-knit socks? At the very least he almost seemed happy with himself, a small smile on his face and even humming as he sat near the fire easily. Ren huddled opposite, trying to keep his eyes on the flickering flames and nothing else. His stomach grumbled painfully.

"If the weather were a bit clearer I could hunt for food," Jaune said, catching the sound. "Nothing like fire-cooked boar on a night like this. Maybe a roast sparrow too…" He paused to sigh wistfully, and Ren felt his own mouth water. "Tomorrow, then. We'll have to make do with those emergency rations tonight," he said, drawing a bag forth from the supplies they'd caught off the Bullhead.

"I guess so," Ren agreed miserably. He knew what they tasted like, of course, and while any sustenance would be welcome right now, some would have been more welcome than others. He caught the bag and tore the top open.

The contents were dry, brittle, but packed with calories. They didn't taste like much, and what little it did was some terrible amalgamation of fake meat and stale bread. It was something, however, and since Jaune made no mention of rationing, he helped himself to the entire contents even though Jaune only poked at his. While he ate, Jaune spoke, almost contemplatively.

"We might as well sleep as much as we can tonight. I wasn't exactly at my best today thanks to Cardin and his idiots. Even I get bad after two days without sleep," he said casually, even as Ren turned an eye to him quickly. He hadn't noticed anything…

"Give me another, and I start hallucinating. Might as well reset the clock now. That's a warning, though," Jaune added, looking Ren in the eye. "Today was taking it easy. We're going to be pushing from tomorrow onwards."

They hadn't been already? Ren hid a wince at his side as he began to massage a leg with one hand.

"That's fine with me," he replied, finishing his ration. His legs ached and stung, and that was just the muscles from today. "I can keep up. I want to get out of this place as much as you."

"I doubt that."

"You think I want to be here?" Ren asked, somewhere between a deadpan and a challenge.

"I don't think you understand how bad I want us out of here," Jaune said, before sighing and moving to his hands and knees so he could crawl closer. Ren backed up a little, uncertain what the other teen was doing, but Jaune instead picked up a loose twig from their firewood pile and used it to sketch something into the dust on the stone floor. Rather than a map, it seemed to be a crude series of circles.

"It's not your fault," Jaune granted, though he did so grudgingly. "They don't teach you about how Grimm work out here, probably because they only want you to look after the city and surrounding area where Grimm territory is messed up due to human presence. I'll show you what my Uncle taught me."

Ren leaned forward, more eager than he thought he would be for such knowledge. It had already cost him dearly and he didn't want to make the same mistake again.

Jaune drew a circle, with a small mark in the middle.

"This is ground Grimm territory," he said, pointing at the circle. "Whether it's a single Grimm or a pack of the same type, Grimm on their own act like most other territorial animals. They pick a spot they like- usually one that's comfortable and easy for them- and claim it for themselves. Grimm territory is usually, unless the terrain doesn't make sense, cantered around the nest." The small mark in the middle. "Grimm rarely leave their territory, and spend most of their time closest to the nest or the comfortable spots. They spend less time around the edges, marking the limits of their territory on the outside. Bigger Grimm or more Grimm have more territory, but again spend most of their time in the centre, not the edges. However, if any of the Grimm of a pack are alerted to a human in their territory, all the pack knows soon enough, even if they're not in direct line of sight. To avoid that, avoid them and just go around or stick to the edges of their territory. Obvious enough?"

Ren nodded, though he saved questions for another time. How did you know what the territory was? What did different types of Grimm find important? How did the Grimm of a pack communicate? He figured he could find out more if he waited.

Jaune drew another circle near, but not overlapping, the first circle.

"This is more Grimm territory. Everyone knows that Grimm are territorial against animals, and will kill them if, say, a wolf pack moves into a Beowolf den. But most people don't know that Grimm are 'softly' territorial against each other. They don't fight, but they generally don't like to live together either. So, in most cases, Grimm will take the next convenient spot over and ignore each other. They don't really socialize or do house calls, but stay in their area and don't bother each other. Unless humans are spotted, in which case Grimm A can freely enter Grimm B's territory." Jaune drew a simple line from the first circle to the next, showing movement. "When Grimm territory is close enough, if Grimm A is alerted, Grimm B can be alerted as well, even if it's not their territory. Usually this is just what you'd expect- if there's loud sounds of combat, or the Grimm lets out a loud cry, and so on. They'll both chase as long as they have a good track of the target, though that's usually less than a ridgeline. It is possible to run away from Grimm if you can break line of sight. Despite their animal nature, they don't have senses as sharp as their animal equivalents."

Ren nodded. It did make sense. Grimm knew gunshots weren't natural, and at the very least would investigate. The times one Grimm fight would lead to another sometimes seemed random, but nothing Jaune said seemed outlandish. Even the part about Grimm senses. Honestly, Ren had figured out that much himself when he developed his semblance.

Jaune wiped out his first line, showing Grimm movement. Then he drew a line between the two circles, in the gap where there was no overlap.

"The key to surviving out here is to go between Grimm territory whenever possible," Jaune explained. "If neither Grimm A or Grimm B notices you, neither will chase and neither will alert the other. There's almost always a way to bypass the Grimm if you're patient."

Patience, Ren underscored in his notes.

"Water and amphibious Grimm work the same way, I think," Jaune added. "Pure-water Grimm like sea-dragons aren't exactly competing for caves, but you can tell when amphibious Grimm are setting up in a lake when other animals and Grimm refuse to go near it. If you see deer sipping at creeks rather than the side of a lake, it's a pretty good sign something is living in the shallows. Stay away from deep water, even inland lakes If the wildlife won't touch it, it's for a reason." Jaune warned.

Ren dutifully wrote that down.

Then Jaune drew a new circle that overlapped both of the previous circles. This circle wasn't a circle, though. Instead of smooth curves, erratic jagged edges marked it as something completely distinct.

"You can forget everything I just said for air-Grimm," Jaune said.

"Huh?" Ren asked. "But you said-"

"Air Grimm - or flying Grimm in general, really - aren't limited by terrain, and don't compete with ground-Grimm for territory," Jaune said. "Gryphons might, but they're kind of a hybrid special case. Never mind them. For things like Nevermore, though, a Nevermore can nest right above a Boarbatusk burrow, and neither will care. They're not competing for the same things. Air-Grimm also have ranging territory so wide, it's pretty much impossible to know when you're entering it, or where they'll be at any given time. They might be at their nest, or they might be stretching their wings miles away. To make it worse, they have the same sort of 'alarm' system with the Grimm territory they overlap. If air-Grimm you, they have a chance of alerting the ground-Grimm their territory overlaps and starting a multi-pack chase, even if those ground-Grimm are actually far apart." He poked the air-Grimm territory, then each of the ground-Grimm circles, and then drew another circle far away from the first two. "Only a chance, though. Air-Grimm territory is so wide, they might be too far away to notice."

That made sense, but how would air-Grimm alert far-away ground Grimm in the first place? What could it be- pheromones on the wind?

"One question," he asked. "Ground-Grimm, air-Grimm, water-Grimm… where did all these terms come from? Don't you just use words like Beowolves, Nevermore and such?"

"Not so much. The specifics might matter to you Huntsmen since you want to kill them and need to know how they fight, but to those trying to make a living or avoid them the only thing that matters is how they move. Ground, air or water. That's all that matters to a Hunter or frontiersmen."

It made sense, he supposed. No use wondering about names when you needed to know where the immediate threat was coming from. "Then how do you avoid them?" Ren asked, and Jaune looked up and shot an almost pleased grin. Right answer- or rather, right question?

"Stick to the trees and avoid the ground-Grimm territory," Jaune said, pointing at the two circles again. "Air Grimm are a hassle, but they don't have especially good senses. What Beowolves lack in smell, air Grimm usually lack in eyes. They might see someone moving in the middle of an open field or empty road, but start breaking vision with trees and they're usually too far away to catch wind of you. What makes avian Grimm dangerous isn't their eyesight, but their ability to reinforce a ground Grimm pack very quickly once alerted, and their ability to alert a lot more ground Grimm in turn. Some Huntsmen prioritize hunting Nevermore nests and the like over ground Grimm, since taking down the avian Grimm will leave the individual Grimm packs isolated and less likely to help each other." He poked the first two circles as cases where reinforcement would occur, but the third distant circle wouldn't."

That seemed like very useful information if Ren ever went on a Grimm-extermination mission in the future, and probably something that Professor Port might have alluded to in one of his taller tales. But Jaune was also frowning as he looked at the circles, and Ren could tell he wasn't saying everything.

"You don't agree?" Ren guessed.

It was clear by his expression that Jaune didn't, though there was no heat in his answer.

"It's not wrong, but it's usually not worth the hassle," Jaune said. "If it's near a settlement, fine. I've done that myself. Nothing loosens up a Grimm threat on a village like killing the Nevermore calling in every Grimm for miles. But that's pretty hard. Trying to find a Nevermore nest in kilometres of forest is like trying to find a needle in a haystack. You never know if it's here, here, or right in the middle of ground-Grimm territory," he said, poking around the bigger zone, before pausing. "Plus, purging Grimm just makes things worse afterwards."

Ren blinked, honestly taken aback.

"But… they're dead," Ren said, unable to put it to any other words. Jaune just rolled his eyes.

"For a while, yeah, but they'll be back. Days, weeks, months, a year or two… they'll be back."

"But they'll be weaker," Ren said, thinking of the Deathstalker and Giant Nevermore from initiation. Those had been no small fight- and future initiates would be safer for not having to deal with them. "Grimm only get stronger and more dangerous the longer they're alive."

Jaune just looked at him, though, before taking a finger and pointing it at the cave entrance.

"See that?" he asked rhetorically. "If an Ursa Major came in there when I was asleep, and you weren't here, what do you think would happen?"

"You'd die," Ren said, daring to be honest. Jaune was competent… but he'd already admitted more than once he didn't like caves for a reason. Competent or not, he was still a civilian, not a combatant.

"If it caught me, yeah," Jaune said, not offended at all. "Now what do you think would happen if it was an Ursa cub?"

"You'd- I see your point," Ren conceded. If it caught him, by luck or otherwise, Jaune would still die.

Jaune hold it against him. "Grimm don't turn into Alphas by Majors just by age, or else the world would be full of nothing but elites by now anyway. The difference between an elite Grimm and baby-Grimm might be a big deal for you Hunters, but for most of us it doesn't matter. We'll be just as dead. Now, that said…" he reached down, and brushed away the circles he'd previously drawn.

He looked at Ren, blue eyes frank but not severe.

"Which do you think scares me more - established Grimm that have been in the same place for decades, with plenty of time to mark their territory in really obvious ways, or new young Grimm that weren't there six months ago and who haven't had time to make clear who runs the place?"

Ren looked back. "I doubt you're afraid of either," he said.

Jaune smiled. "Good answer," he accepted. "But even I don't like it when tiny deathstalkers try to claw open my sleeping bag in the middle of my man-cave."

Ren shot a look to the cavern entrance, and back to Jaune.

"You call this your man cave?" Ren asked, deadpan.

"Skitter-skitter," Jaune replied, a hint of smile on his face.

Ren didn't return it, though a hint of something touched the corners of his lips. A shake of the head cleared it soon enough. There was the Ursa in the room, so to speak.

"What about Mouk?" he asked.

Jaune's slight smile fell, and the temperature dropped just at the mention of the name. Wordlessly he got up, picking up the stick, and dragging it behind him. He was halfway around the room before Ren realized he was tracing a circle around the entire fire, and both of them.

"That-" Jaune said, gesturing towards the small circles from before, "is a Beowolf pack. This," he said, throwing his arms open to encompass most the room, "is Mouk's domain."

Ren stayed silent, not sure how to respond.

"I called Mouk a Duke. It's really the best thing that fits," Jaune said. "All this region - all of it, the Lunar Cry Mountains, the river valleys, the Southern Pass - is Mouk's territory. He just lets other Grimm live in it, unless he decides to step in their watering hole or knock down their nest or so on. Mouk goes where he wants, when he wants, and no other Grimm here would stop him."

Jaune walked back to the smaller circles from before, and air-Grimm box from before. "You can kind of think of him like an avian Grimm on steroids. He's not competing for territory. He goes where he wants. And the worst thing, even more than his own fat ass…" Jaune drew lines connecting the circles together, and then linking them to a crude makeshift bear. "When any Grimm in Mouk's domain senses someone and lets out an alert, Mouk will know. Eventually. And when Mouk knows, every Grimm in his territory will know soon enough as well. They may not come, but if they do… they'll run up mountains, they'll jump down cliffs, they'll do anything he wants to, if he wants them to. Don't ask me how, don't ask me why, but that's what it means to be in the Grimmlands, and not just the abandoned frontier. The Grimmlands are where one Grimm can command hundreds, and rule with a stronger claim than any kingdom."

Jaune looked back at Ren, eye to eye, perfectly serious.

"We call Grimm like him Overlord Grimm, and the only reason we were as safe as we were today was because Mouk drew all the other Grimm in the region down south because of Cardin last night."

Ren took that in, and realized an implication.

"When I rushed the Grimm at the bullhead," he began, a nervous chill going down his spine.

Jaune nodded, but serious eyes gave way to a shrug soon enough. "When a mountain didn't bulldoze the forest in the first three minutes, I figured we got them before they could let off an alarm." His steely gaze centred on Ren soon enough, though. "But that was luck, not skill. We could have been just as unlucky if a Nevermore had happened to be flying around. Don't do it again," he warned. "Like my Uncle says, 'Never leave to chance what you don't have to.'"

"I won't," Ren promised, the belated realization of a near-death experience passing by.

"Then we're good," Jaune said, dropping it as easily as that. "We took a risk, and got a good payoff. It was worth it for the bag and the supplies. But now I hope you realize why I want to get out of here as fast as possible," he said. "The sooner we're out of Mouk's domain, the sooner we'll be somewhere where running into a single Grimm won't bring packs and packs and an unstoppable juggernaut chasing after us. On the frontier, you can fight your way through a Grimm fight. In the Grimmlands, it's suicide."

"Thank you," Ren said sincerely. "I think I understand now."

"Huh? Well, uh" Jaune said, taken aback at the simple gratitude. "Well… good. Just trust me and don't be stupid, and we'll get you out of here alive," he said, awkwardly ending the lesson and cleaning his dirtied hands outside

As he did, Ren thought about what he'd learned. This definitely wasn't something they'd taught in Beacon… but then, that didn't mean they wouldn't have. He'd only been there about six months, after all. Just one semester.

Still, it was interesting. And he would have been interested in learning it sooner. Grimm classes had focused on types and abilities, categorizations and combat abilities, but little about their habits. Beacon taught Huntsmen how to kill Grimm, not how Grimm lived.

Port and Oobleck would probably have been enthused to share such knowledge, but he hadn't even thought to ask. And to be honest, if someone had offered him the chance to sit half-naked in a cave with them to learn the secrets of the Grimm, he probably would have passed. He missed his warm bed back in Beacon, and his friends. Nora, Pyrrha, and…

"What's on your mind?" Jaune asked, walking back from the cave door and shaking his hands. Ren noticed the traps were still outside, but Jaune was holding one of the water bottles they'd set up outside.

"No one," Ren denied, even as Jaune walked back to the fire. "Tell me about Mouk," he asked, even as Jaune lowered himself down.

"What about him?"

"Anything. You said you know him, and that he had a name. There must be stories about him. Are there any about where he came from, or how he got here?" An idea came to him, and he scrambled for his backpack. "In fact, wait a second. Would it be okay if I wrote some of this down? If we make it out of here, people in Vale would want to know about this. Your legends might hold clues."

He half-expected Jaune to turn him down, but the hunter shrugged, though he looked darkly at Ren's pad of paper, as if suspicious.

"I doubt it, but if you want," Jaune conceded. "There's like half a dozen legends about Mouk off the top of my head, and a lot of them get in the way of each other. Don't go treating this like it's all true," he warned.

"That's fine," Ren assured, remembering something he once read. "Oral tradition is inherently unreliable, given that it's told my memory over generations. It's actually natural for primitive cultures-"

Alright, definitely the wrong choice of words, but at least Jaune didn't interject or start huffing at him.

"-to have a number of different variations of a legend. What's important is what they have in common," Ren said. "If each account has even just the slightest grains of truth behind them, then identifying where they agree can give us shared understanding of the past everyone tried to remember, right?"

Jaune seemed to buy that, and didn't make an issue.

"Alright, but just one for now," he said, waiting for Ren to fumble with his notepad and pen. In the end he settled for using his own memoir- 'diary,' Nora had called it- and flicked to the back so that he could write it in there.

"This is old legend, mind," Jaune warned before he began. "I heard it from my Uncle's Brother's Neighbour's friend when I was eleven or so. I don't put a lot of stock in it myself, and lot of it might be weird. If you interrupt before I'm done, I'll be turning in for the night."

"I'll listen," Ren promised, pen placed against paper.

"Okay, I guess. You asked for it. I suppose it all began long, long ago…"

/-/

Long, long ago, when gods walked with men and Remnant was still Whole…

When the Grimm Night fell, and the First Civilization began to crumble, not all the gods abandoned their creations. When humans and faunus alike struggled to survive the Grimm, they were aided by Those Who Remained, the gods and goddesses who had not turned their backs on man on faunus-kind. Chief and chieftess among them was the Selene, Guardian of the Hunt and Goddess of the Moon.

Selene was a True Huntress, maybe the first, and had long been a patron of hunters and protector of those lost at night. Hers was the power to give light in the darkness, and show the most desperate of souls hope. A heroine for the wretched, Selene was said to flout the rules of men and gods alike in order to help those in need, always willing to guide lost souls to safety. She carried a magical bow with no quiver, shooting only arrows of her own light, and her shots were said to be the greatest weapon against the darkness. When the Grimm Night fell Selene fought when other gods fled into the void, and when the Grimm swept the lands she hid amongst the stars above them. From up high her shots were beacons of hope for the lost and searching alike, and when the Heavenly Towers fell Selene offered her own celestial body as refuge for the remaining gods to rally. For a time Selene's Celestial Kingdom hung high in the sky carrying all the hopes of Remnant, as the gods watched from above and intervened where they could.

But down below, the Grimm Night never lifted. As the civilization crumbled, the First Empire rotted with corruption and cruelty. Wicked rulers gave birth to wrath and greed in equal measure, worst among them Mouk.

Mouk back then was not the monster he is now, but even then he was more beast than man, still huge and hugely ambitious. Mouk was a distant relative of the Emperor, and as was his right he wore a gift of the old gods, from back when the gods and Empire were on good terms and inclined to exchange such gifts. Mouk's gift was a cloak that granted invincibility that he wove into his skin, and with it he cheated to win many feats of strength and daring. Though his skin might burn and his eyes might cry, he would never die and only grow stronger from each adversity. With the gift of the old gods, where were not as benevolent as later gods, Mouk won many battles and much glory for himself even as the world fell into ruin.

Mouk was always ambitious, and always glutenous, and as his power grew so did his appetites for power and flesh. Mouk, you see, had developed a taste for faunus flesh and human hearts, as had become custom in those dark times. As the Empire crumbled Mouk was known to feast on the refugees, arranging great hunts for sport and pleasure.

This brought him into conflict with Selene more than once, as the moon goddess took to watching Mouk's movements and stealing his prey by guiding them away by night. Selene's silver arrows could not kill Mouk from afar due to the magic cloak that he never took off, but Mouk could never catch Selene no matter how he tried. When he sought, she hid in the sky. When he chased, she flew across the horizon. Never could he catch her, no matter how many times she left him with an empty stomach, and in time Mouk burned with something even he did not know, something worse than respect.

For a time they were at a stalemate, and Mouk came to fixate over Selene the Moon Goddess. Perhaps it was love, or simply obsession, but Mouk was always looking up at the moon that looked down at him, wondering when he would see his old foe next.

Black heart burning with a feeling he could not understand, Mouk went to his Uncle and begged assistance.

"Oh, Emperor of the Forgotten Sea!" he called. "Help your favored nephew, for I am at my wits end! Though my strength is supreme and none can stand against me in honest combat, this woman defies me time and time again! The moon itself hunts me, hanging over my head and haunting my sleep! I have even lost my appetite, even as it steals my pray! Give me your strength and wisdom, oh Uncle, so that I might finally reach her and claim all that I desire! You who tamed the Witches and stood against silver-warriors and sit secure upon your throne against the pressure of the world, I demand you give me more power so that I might drink the grief of her tears!"

The Emperor's first response was to lash out and knock Mouk down in a single blow, for though Mouk was mighty the most wicked Emperor was all-powerful and would not let such impudent demands go unchallenged, even by his own offspring. But since Mouk shared a certain sort of ambition, the sort that drives monsters to devour men and dominate their lands, and because Mouk in truth WAS favored despite not being of his own line, the heartless Emperor shared his wisdom.

"Selene's weakness is her compassion and her courage," he hissed into Mouk's ear. "Let her kindness be the shackle that chains her within your reach by her own volition. Find some pitiful soul, but do not devour them. Let them be the bait that brings the Heavenly Huntress down instead, for she will not flee while they may yet be saved. A True Huntress will never abandon others to save herself, even if she could, and that will be how you catch her."

Mouk's eyes glowed and his mouth watered in realization, but before he could speak the Emperor uncaringly swatted him away, sending him tumbling hind over haunch.

"Go west past the shield walls and to the upper plateau," the Emperor decreed. "You will find a private territory of mine, which I have not used in some time. It has come to my attention that Selene has trespassed on my old hunting grounds, guiding souls through and poaching my game while she is at it. This will not be allowed to stand. Go, punish these hunters, and deal with the Heavenly Huntress as you desire. If you do I shall grant you the title of Duke, and afterwards let you claim all that you can see."

Mouk accepted, loving both power and the promise of bloodshed. And so Mouk left, leaving the Capital and climbing the shield-walls out of a great river-valley. Mouk came to these part, which were flat then, and established himself as the game warden of the Emperor's Forest. Great hunts of humans were formed, and the hunters hunted, until Mouk found their villages and scattered them like embers. And though Mouk could have stamped them out to the last, he did not, leaving one tribe alive as the Emperor his Uncle had advised him to. Mouk left them alive, though unable to run, and even slew his own men caught up in bloodlust so that the villagers' crippled bodies might cry up to the heavens.

"Save us, Lady Selene!" they begged. "Do not forsake your faithful! This promised land you least us to is now naught but a place of nightmares! The abominations thought absent now return to devour us whole! Show us mercy and save us, goddess of our hope! By the compact we swore, come down and save us!"

And Selene, bound by compassion for the most wretched, did, even knowing that Mouk lay in wait.

I will not tell you the battle here. It is another tale, for another time, and much too long for now. I will not tell you how Mouk and Selene fought off and on across seven days and seven nights, as Mouk's army lay siege to the villagers so they would not retreat. I will not tell you about the arcs of light that flew across the horizon, or the total massacres of Mouk's host, or the grievous losses the gods suffered in turn. I will not tell you how the moon sagged lower in the sky as the Celestial Kingdom followed Selene, or the forgotten weapons used for the first and last time as the war spread, or how Selene stole a bit of Mouk's cloak and shot an arrow in his eye, blinding him forever more on one side.

I will tell you that Selene did indeed save those villagers, if only so you know why anyone knows what happened next.

Selene lost, of course.

Even the gods needed rest. Even the heroes can fall. And even the moon itself cannot shine at its full luster forever. After a week of fighting, of flying, of never getting to rest, Selene the patron of all hunters could not hide in the sky anymore. Mouk, who had only grown mightier at each attempt to slay him, towered above. They say he reached into the sky, hugged his most hated foe in a moment of weakness, and dragged her down to the earth in a crushing embrace before beginning to devour her. He began with her arm, making her drop her sacred bow and crippling her forever.

Selene did not die just then. Her host- her sworn friends and faithful followers- fought tenfold when she fell, and pushed even Mouk back. The other gods then dragged Selene back to her proper place in the sky. They nursed her injuries and bandaged her wounds, but even they could not hide the proof of the Great Defeat. The Moon our goddess was broken, never to be whole again, and each crater on her an eternal proof of Mouk's foul appetite. Selene would survive, but diminished, and without her arm or bow she would never set foot on this Remnant or shoot her sacred arrows of light ever again.

The knowledge broke her heart, and as her fellow gods dragged her back into the sky Selene cried for the first and last time that anyone knew. Selene's tears, the proof of being shattered, fell from the heavens with the weight of all the hopes and dreams that she had carried. The crashed here, on this very plateau that was once a plane, and struck Mouk himself with the force off all the hopes he had dashed and devoured between his teeth. They broke the flatlands and created the hills, and that is why this area is called the Lunar Cry Mountains.

Mouk survived, of course, and went on to drink Selene's tears as he said he would. He was the winner that day. But even he was taken aback, and the followers of Selene- the very people he had held hostage to goad their goddess into battle- had the last word as they too were taken to the heavens along with their goddess.

"We curse you oh great Mouk, ruiner of hopes and devour of the Celestial Queen!" they cried. "Though you shall hence forth be Duke as is your due, you shall forever be nothing more! For what you have taken from us today we will take threefold from you forever, so that our bitter defeat shall be the last time you taste satisfaction!"

Mouk cared not a wit about them, dismissing them entirely as he feasted on Selene's flesh and tears, but it was because he was careless that he did not realize that their curses were already taking effect.

"Our first curse, oh ambitious Mouk- as you have taken our lady's arm, we shall keep your eye! Claim all that you can see, oh Duke, but know that it shall only ever be half of what you once might have. In this way your ambition shall never be satisfied, and you shall always be blind to what happens in half of your domain."

And so it was that Mouk's eye never recovered, no matter the remedy, and over the ages sneak-thiefs and clever poachers learned to steal from his lands when his head was turned the other way.

"Our second curse, oh glutenous Mouk- as you have feasted on the flesh of our goddess, may nothing else fill you again! Live a life of gluttony if you wish, but gorge as you might you will never be filled. The finest feasts and darkest despairs will taste as ash in your mouth, as filling as night soil from the graves. The corpse of our goddess shall be all that ever fills the void inside you, beast, but you shall never reach her ever again."

And so it was that Mouk felt a grave hunger, and collapsed on all fours as a terrible thirst overcame him. For a time he subsisted on Selene's tears and arm, but when the flesh was picked clean and all that was left was a temple of bones, the duke began to degrade himself in a maddening hunger. He tasted topsoil and sipping from streams in a bid to fill a constant emptiness, but nothing satisfied. To this day Mouk wanders in search of anything that might fill him, even more fragments of Selene's wound, and looks into the night sky in burning hunger.

"Our final curse, oh covetous Mouk- as you wished to claim our Queen Selene for your own, may the only part of her you claim be that which is in your belly! Know to the last of your days and the end of your sight that you shall never have her ever again. Let it be that every time you look up into the sky, you see her above and know that no matter your strength, you shall never drag down the symbol of our hope."

And so it was that Mouk realized that Selene would never return to this world. In that realization he cried in a jealous rage, and donned the mask he wears to this day. For while Selene floated well above, as if taunting, he would never get a chance to finish their battle. To this day Mouk waits in a house of Selene's bones, the remains of her arm, hoping that she might come close enough to Remnant that he might bring her down once more.

But of course, he never will. For Selene, the Goddess of the Moon and patron of hunters and once hope of the world, now stays far above while sharing her light for the good of all the Remnant.

/-/

Ren finished his notes with a full stop, looking up to Jaune as he stopped speaking. The tale had been a long one, and even longer with the pauses necessary for him to write it down, but the time spent had allowed the heat from the fire to drift about the cave and he felt warm, if not entirely comfortable. Compared to how he'd felt before, it was a vast improvement, as even the pain in his fingers distracted from worse pains elsewhere.

"And that's about it," Jaune said. "Like I said- not the most useful, except the parts that are. Like trying to take Mouk head on," he hinted, looking at Ren meaningfully.

Ren didn't react to that. After earlier, he'd be just as fine avoiding the walking mountain-bear. (Or would it be bear-mountain?)

"It's certainly interesting," Ren said instead, starting to put away his notes. "Do you believe much of it?"

"Do you really think me that backward?" Jaune asked, tone hardening. "Of course I don't. I told you it was weird. I'm not actually saying Grimm talk to each other like people with noble titles and crap."

Ren tried not to wince, though the reason that was hard wasn't because of Jaune. "Forgive me. That's not what I meant," he said, trying to restore his guide's mood. "That was poorly worded. I meant, are there parts of it you believe? Like the gods of the Celestial Kingdom?"

Jaune looked him suspiciously for a moment longer, but answered honestly enough.

"I'm not religious or anything, if that's what you mean," Jaune said. "I don't pray to the moon goddess to guide my steps at night like my Uncle does. People who follow the old ways are pretty rare, even out here. I don't know if gods ever existed in the past or not, but I don't care much either. I'd rather put my faith in real people than some magical kingdom on the moon full of amazing people who can't be bothered to do anything." His eyes narrowed a bit, but not at Ren. "I'd be pretty pissed if people like that existed but chose not to do anything all this time."

That, at least, Ren could understand… but he didn't dwell. "But don't you think it'd be interesting if they did exist, once upon a time?" he asked. "I mean, just think… a kingdom on the moon. Why? How? Where did they come? Where did they go? If creators existed, why did they leave?"

"Don't know. Don't care," Jaune said curtly, but the yawn that followed hinted at the heart of the reason. "I just know the real moral of the story is 'don't fuck with Mouk, even if you're a god.' Clear enough?"

There was so much of the legend that wasn't, but Ren sensed asking more probably wouldn't be well received. Not that he could expect Jaune to give real answers anyway. It was just a fairy tale made to explain something already here. In that, it made perfect sense.

"Clear enough," Ren agreed. "It's easy to dismiss such legends, but they may well have grains of truth within them. I'll certainly agree to your plan on Mouk. I'd rather not have to deal with him."

Jaune gave a low hum, neither agreeing or disagreeing but hinting it was probably time to call it a night. They didn't exactly have a companionable silence stretching between them, but it was a far cry better than what they'd had before. If nothing else, they'd spoken for fifteen minutes or more without an argument, jibe, or insult traded between them.

It was progress. Not much, but still progress. Just one foot after the other, until they got out of here.

"We should sleep while we can," Jaune said, shifting to the side and dragging his pack to a corner of the cave. "We'll be pushing hard tomorrow, to get out of Mouk's domain before he finds us. No excuses tomorrow if you drag your weight, hunter-boy."

"I won't," Ren promised, pushing over to his side. Their sleeping spots were not too far from the fire and he could still feel its reassuring heat on his back. Even so, he was faced with an immediate problem in the form of the blanket he had drawn over him to cover his modesty. It was now wet through and would not make for a good rest.

He stared down at it and cursed silently. If only he'd thought that through he wouldn't be in this situation, and the last thing he wanted was to ask Jaune for assistance. That would just lead to a sharp – and well-deserved - rebuke. He sighed and laid the wet bedding out regardless. The most he could hope for was that it would dry in the night.

Something soft struck the back of his head, knocking him forward and closer to the fire.

"Sleep in that," Jaune said, even as Ren's semblance was jumping too late the unexpected contact. He should have expected that. He should have sensed that, or at least his aura. Was he that tired?

Ren drew the offending item in front of him and stared at it. "Isn't this your sleeping bag?"

"Yeah. That a problem?" Jaune challenged, rolling over to expose his back and nothing else. "Not good enough for you?"

"No, it's not that, it's-" Ren paused for a breath, composing himself with a dash of semblance. "What will you sleep in?" It wouldn't do if the guide was the worse off of the two.

"I'll be fine like this," the hunter said, moving his mostly fire-dried hoodie over him. "Hardly the first time. I'm used to it, you're not, simple as that. I'd hardly expect a city-boy like you to know how to rough it out."

While that was true, it was still a generous act and Ren looked over to the blond cautiously, wondering if he would demand it back. He wasn't afraid to admit that he was weak and cold, and that the constant use of his Semblance had sapped his reserves greatly. The added warmth wouldn't only be appreciated; it would be necessary.

Maybe Jaune sensed his hesitation.

"Don't get the wrong idea. I'm only doing so you don't become useless otherwise," Jaune said gruffly, refusing to face him. "The next few days are going to feel like weeks, and I just don't want to hear any stupid excuses when you can't keep up, that's all."

It made sense.

"You won't," Ren promised. He might have had to learn some humility today, but he still had his pride. A Huntsman wasn't much good if a little bruising from a landing strategy was all it took to fall behind a civilian. "Thank you, Jaune."

The blond scoffed and didn't say anything, but Ren knew he'd heard it – if only because he heard the man grumble something about `idiot Hunters` from the other side of the fire. After he lay out his wet blanket as a makeshift pillow to dry by the fire, he burrowed himself into Jaune's and closed his eyes, not even minding the smell.

It was the first time in three days he'd been able to sleep without fearing for his life.

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Quick Coeur Note: Yes, we know about the religion of the Brothers, etc, but I'm fairly sure Rooster Teeth confirmed that there were many religions in Remnant.

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CF's Notes:

I swear Coeur only wrote 9k before I got this. Then I had to write the legend, and Grimm exposition dump… (Coeur: Hey now – only because I assumed you'd make it 1-2,000 words, not 7,000!)

So, Grimm mechanics laid out. Honestly pretty much all this story was laid out as early as S2, so if some things seem anachronistic… oh well. Chalk it up to the minor AU that is this story. How the Grimm work together was something that interested me at the time, and this is what it became. This is the rough framework to understand this worldbuilding when it comes to Grimm.

But, on the other side of things, we get our post-mission disaster look at Team RWBY. Not looking so well, girls. I'm sure Ren will walk in the door any day now and make everything all better. Any… day…

If it wasn't clear already, RWBY and Beacon are collectively the Beta plot to Jaune and Ren's alpha-plot. Ren and Jaune are the focus of the story, and honestly originally the story was only about them. Beacon is what keeps it from being a pure sausage fest, but the tradeoff here is that certain plot and character elements are tied to the Alpha plot rather than the convenience of the Beta plot. Who is Jaune's mysterious sister? What is her real name if it isn't 'Jewels'? Why does everyone who should really honestly know this stuff and talk about it as open knowledge speak so obliquely about it?

Because this is fiction, and the nature of this fiction is that if this were animation, Jaune's semi-mysterious sister would still be the character shrouded in shadow and never quite appearing on screen. Kind of how slow burn/gradual development/'secret past' characters get developed. You 'could' expose all the backstory in five minutes, but then you'd be ruining all the narrative suspense/ambiguity/a whole lot of spoilers for what are ultimately character-driven development stories. Rest assured, once certain elements are revealed they will no doubt conveniently and instantly become open knowledge amongst the rest of everyone involved. But for the moment, 'Jewels' can no more be identified by name than Ren or Jaune are willing to address her, and that will take character development on their end before she can be an active character herself.

So, in the meantime, I plead your patience, and… shiney! Distraction! How about dat legend? Clearly nothing significant in it what so ever!

So, funny story… except for the fact that the legend finally got written for the first time in the 12 hours before posting, this was how the legend was 'supposed' to be the first time- as a stand alone/all italics/honest to god short-story-in-a-story. When Coeur wrote that first legend awhile ago, where CRDL is interrupting every few lines, I'd actually meant to tell him to cut that part of the chapter out and leave the legend for the next chapter that I could write in the next week. But I didn't, so he posted it, and it was… not bad, actually very good, but not what I'd intended.

Coeur and I talked about legends early on in the story development, and this is what I was thinking of at the time. The story obviously no relevance to the main story what so ever [/obvious lie], but works as its own sort of stand-alone legend for Remnant. Even if you didn't have this plot, you could maybe find a book in the Beacon library and pull out the story of the Ursa Who Ate the Moon.

That's what this is. Hope it's enjoyable.

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Next Chapter: 15th December

P a treon . com (slash) Coeur