Raven I
Okay, Raven would admit it, perhaps splitting up with Qrow wasn't the best decision she could've made.
Raven could be throwing insults at her past-self right now - what the hell did she mean by covering more ground!? The forest was massive, and two people splitting up to 'cover more ground' was as useful as having two pairs of chopsticks to drink soup. No, she shook her head, if she had decided to think rationally for even a second, Raven would've realised that a partner would've been much more useful.
After all, wasn't that the golden rule her father had hammered into them?
Always travel with a partner.
Else when you inevitably get killed by a Grimm, no ones going to drag your sorry corpse back to camp.
But Qrow was just so annoying, whining and grousing over what a pain it was to hunt. He was way too spoiled, in her opinion, being the golden child of the tribe - the heir of the tribe - and all. Raven would bet a limb that every time Qrow went hunting, it was actually his guardian that did all the work while he took credit to keep up appearances.
Oh, she knew all of his tricks - she was his older sister, after all.
And now that it was their first time hunting together - alone - he had no idea what he was doing. Raven would be surprised if that child even knew his way through the forest. Well, there was nothing to fear there - Raven did have her Semblance, after all, and she could always check on his progress… in case he gets lost, or whatever.
Not that she would ever admit that she would.
But she would.
She was his older sister, after all.
Raven was jolted out of her thoughts when she tripped over a damnable root, nearly planting her face into the dirt. Flailing her arms, she hastily grabbed onto a low branch to save herself from that humiliating fate. Right, Raven gathered herself, focus on the situation at hand - don't let yourself get distracted by stupid things.
She huffed, every step in this forest and she could feel it sapping the strength straight out of her body. A strange sensation, one she has never felt before in all her many times hunting in the very forest. Perhaps it was an illusion, some sort of delusion from hunting alone. Or perhaps those wood spirits the Mistralians liked to talk about actually existed.
Raven snickered.
Forging onwards through the thicket, she could feel the branches scraping across her cloth-covered skin, the phantom tingle of critters crawling on her arms and legs. It was the same, everytime - the same hellish green and brown everywhere, messing with your head. But Raven has stalked this forest enough times to remember it as if it were the back of her hand.
Breaking out of the tree line, she swiped some brush out of her way - emerging at the top of a small ditch, a slow flowing stream at the bottom. Lowering herself, she slid down to the bottom of the ditch and began following the stream up river.
Suddenly, she paused. Slowly kneeling down, she swiped away some leaves to reveal a set of hoofprints in the dirt.
A buck?
Oh, Raven couldn't help but grin, that was just grand.
But first, she had to catch that buck first - and like hell she was going to let another hunting party steal her prey.
Raven's eyes scanned the banks of the stream, deciding that the deer had stopped at the stream to drink, before crossing to the other side. The water was slow-flowing, and only came up to her knees. Except, she has been in these waters many times before - and she knew better than anyone that it was infested with leeches.
Raven wetted her lips, grasping the aura within her and pushing it down to her legs. With the help of a running start, she cleanly leapt over the stream. Huffing, Raven readjusted the gun slung around her shoulders, before stalking off in the direction of the hoofprints.
Hearing the wind whistling through the branches and leaves, she came to realise that she was moving upwind. Incredibly lucky, if she had to say so herself - it meant the buck wouldn't scent her approach. Something like this… her brother would never be able to achieve, would he? No, not with that silly Semblance of his.
Soon she stumbled upon a scraped tree, the bark peeled off and antler velvet lying on the ground. Lucky, how lucky…!
Raven pressed her lips together, a buck could have half a dozen or so ground scrapes in an area of forest - and it appeared she was nearing one. She could not - will not - mess this up now.
She slowly crept through the brush, keeping an ear out - and an eye out - for any sign of the buck. As the sun began to crest and dip, and Raven's thighs start to ache, she finally came across a clearing - and a fine buck grazing in the centre of it.
A large, barrel-chested buck, with rippling fur and a large belly. A mature deer, one that would fill many, many stomachs. Oh, luck was just on her side today.
Raven unslung her rifle and took aim.
Remember what you were taught, girl, aim right behind the forelimb, next to the elbow. See those ribs, and check the angle.
The buck abruptly shifted, and Raven held her breath, slightly adjusting her aim.
She placed her finger on the trigger.
Bang!
BANG
The deer bolted off into the thicket as the woods came alive as birds jolted off trees, and critters bolted across the forest floor. The violent rustling and swishing of leaves and branches filled her ears as the echoes of the gunshot bounced off the trees, ringing out into the growth.
Raven slowly lowered her gun, slinging it back around her shoulder before taking off after her prey. After a few minutes of following the blood trail, she came across the deer lying lifelessly on the floor, eyes wide open in panic and shock. There was no blinking, no moving, the eye was wide open and staring into oblivion. It was dead.
The timer has started, she told herself in the back of her mind, every Grimm and their grandmother in the vicinity will now be heading over to inspect the commotion. She swiftly brought out her knife and sucked in a breath, before hastily cutting a coring ring into the deer's ass. After pulling out the colon, she pushed the deer to reveal its belly, and began cutting it through.
Raven paused to catch her breath, glancing around to check for any signs of Grimm. Of course, she wouldn't find any, but the action comforted her nonetheless. The only thing she noticed was the forest returning to its peacefulness, the birds and beasts once more settling down after being startled.
Dread welled up inside of her, a churning sensation in her gut that she couldn't ignore. Glancing around frantically, there was nothing but still trees and the gentle murmur of the breeze. And yet, Raven swore she could spy shadows flitting in the treeline, the silent tremors in the brush that could only be seen at the corners of her gaze.
She remained still for the longest time, but there was nothing.
Raven sucked in a shuddering breath, before returning to cutting the deer open. From the ass, up the belly and to the collarbone - she sliced the animal open with skilled, practised hands, not letting her nervousness affect the task at hand.
And yet, she could feel her grip become slippery, sweat gaining on her palms. The panic within her was becoming too much to ignore.
Raven hastily stood up, sheathing her knife and wiping her hands down on her trousers.
She slowly brought a hand to the sword sheathed at her waist - it was a long, thin thing, akin to a fillet blade. Grimm in these parts were much more unarmoured to those elsewhere, and unwieldy blunt weapons aren't necessary. All they needed was a sharp, curved blade - perfect for cutting open the flesh and amputating boneless Grimm limbs.
Raven stalked the edges of the clearing, as if taunting any Grimm to come out and face her.
Except, even as she made one full round around the clearing, there was nothing.
What… there are no Grimm here…
She was born in the Branwen Tribe, raised by the Branwen Tribe. Raven held the strictest confidence in her own instincts - and she was very confident something was very wrong. She cursed beneath her breath, she should've realised not everything would go so smoothly.
Come on girl, what's going on here?
If there was nothing around her… the only other reason she would get this feeling-
Raven's eyes shot open, and her breath hitched.
Her Semblance…!
Qrow!
Without thinking, Raven gritted her teeth and unsheathed her blade. This was how she was trained to activate her Semblance correctly at the drop of a coin. First, bring her target to the forefront of her mind. Second, activate her Semblance with a mental trigger.
A trigger she has come to make to be the unsheathing of her blade.
A swirling gateway of red and black - manifested by her aura - formed before her, swirling like a storm. Raven leapt through the gateway without hesitation, her blade leaving its sheathe in a single motion.
Landing on the other side, she took one glance at the situation before letting her instincts take over. Raven rushed forwards, dropping into a slide - under the legs of a beowulf, slicing straight through its ankles. Rising swiftly, she leapt and gripped the hilt of her blade tightly, plunging it down through the shoulder of another, rending the arm right off.
Gasping as she hit the ground, Raven smoothly wiped the black tar off her blade before reengaging in battle - cutting through numerous Grimm as she fought like a whirlwind of steel. It felt no longer than a second later that she realised there was nothing left to fight, allowing her to catch her breath.
Straightening her back, Raven frantically searched around for Qrow - before finally finding him standing over a beringel. The beringel's legs were hewn through, leaving it squirming on the dirt. It was how they were trained to battle Grimm - amputation, amputation, amputation. Grimm could fight through death, so prioritise disabling them before finishing them off later.
It was why conventional firearms were useless against Grimm - they felt no pain, had no organs, and their flesh was like tar. Shooting a Grimm was making it a few ounces heavier, that's it. This forest was a safe space, and all the Grimm here could be dealt with blades such as theirs - but further away, and the Grimm would be far out of their league.
So, they count their stars now.
Qrow waited until the beringel snapped at him - and at the moment the Grimm opened its mouth, he threw a fire dust grenade in, before swiftly backing away. There was a muffled boom, and the beringel's body bloated like a balloon, before the creature slumped on the ground, acrid black smoke wafting from its corpse.
Raven wasted no time in stomping up to her foolish little brother and socking him across the face.
"Aren't you damn lucky I saved your sorry ass!?"
"Good to know you still love me, sis," Qrow shot her a shit-eating grin.
"What kind of shit is coming out of your mouth?" Raven whacked him again, "I lost a perfect catch because of you!"
Raven could only create gateways to those she had an emotional connection with, and she sure as hell did not have an emotional connection with a bloody deer corpse. The original gateway in question was long gone - she could hold them for as long as her concentration and aura allowed it, and gods know how far away the deer was now. She bet her hard work was already being feasted upon by scavengers.
Raven wiped the tar off her blade before sheathing it, noticing Qrow doing the same for his own matching sword.
"Now," she huffed, "Are you going to tell me what led you to fight a bunch of Grimm?"
"Well," Qrow started, "My Semblance-"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah!" Raven resisted the urge to punch him gain, "Haven't I heard that half a million times before! You've started every excuse of yours with your Semblance ever since you discovered it!"
"Hey!" he cried, "I'll have you know this time it's true! I was freaked, okay!? Guess some Grimm were in the area… you know how unlucky I am!"
"Freaked by what?" she scowled, "By the trees? By the bloody wind!? We've been living in this forest for our entire lives!"
"You-!" Qrow strangely stopped himself, "You know what? Just follow me!"
"Okay Mister Scared-Of-Trees," she snorted.
"Fuck you."
"Really, swearing? Well fuck you too."
Raven followed Qrow through the forest, glancing at the canopy from time to time and noticing the sun slowly setting. Inwardly, she lamented the day's events, for it was clear that there was no time left to hunt for another animal. She could only hope to the gods whatever Qrow's about to show her was worth it.
Unlikely, admittedly, but they still needed a good excuse to explain their failure to father.
"There, look at that," Qrow stopped right in his tracks, and Raven curiously walked out beside him.
"That's…" Raven murmured, "How the hell…?"
"See, I told you!" Qrow grumbled, "She… it… was hidden under half a feet of dirt and a ton of thicket. I have been to this place a thousand times before, never noticed it until now - so I dug it up and found… her… staring right at me."
"And you were scared enough to draw Grimm?"
"Yes- well, no-!" Qrow threw his hands in the air, "I was scared, yeah, and I was just unlucky enough there were Grimm nearby. I mean, can you blame me? Look at that thing!"
Raven could see his point. Laying at the base of a great tree, nestled between its roots, was a ghoulish woman. She was covered head to toe in musty antique clothing, a long old Valean dress running down to the calves, with a brown shawl over her shoulders that drooped down to her thighs, covering her arms and dress.
The woman must've been there for a long time, for she was half-covered with moss and nature, even though her skin seemed to be strangely untouched. Pale and lifeless, seemed to be the best description she could come up with, down to her long steel-coloured hair, straight and stringy.
Well, the woman was looking remarkably fine for a corpse.
Perhaps those wood spirits were real, after all.
Raven cautiously crept forward, inspecting the body. The woman's left hand was resting on her dress, while her right hand was by her side, half buried in the dirt. Raven reached out to grab the woman's left hand - only to find it hard and cold to the touch. Running her fingers across the skin, she realised that the woman was a doll - finely crafted of porcelain.
Hashi porcelain?
Raven inspected the ball joints in the fingers, and rolled up the sleeve to see another ball joint at the wrist. Gently placing the hand back on the doll's lap, Raven moved upwards and felt its face. Under the doll's simple old Valean bonnet was a cold, fair face, with a strange ethereal beauty - almost glowing in the ambient light. Deathly pale too, though that was a given.
A bandage was diagonally wrapped around her head, covering the left eye and much of its left face. Its right eye, however, was deep and sunken, dusted with a gratuitous amount of black eye shadow. Raven could not tell the colour of its eye, for it was closed, and she dared not try to open it. The doll's lips were quaint, and painted a light pink, giving it an illusion of softness.
If Raven didn't know any better, she would've thought they had stumbled upon a woman taking a nap under a tree.
"I don't get how you aren't creeped out by that thing," Qrow muttered.
"It's just a doll, Qrow," Raven deadpanned, "Not like it can hurt you."
"Oh yeah," he nodded, "A life-sized doll. Who even makes those, in that clothing even!? And look at that face, the amount of make-up on it, I haven't seen that much make-up in my life!"
"We live in the middle of nowhere, Qrow, city-folk probably wear more make-up."
"I'm just telling you, sis," Qrow huffed, accusatorily pointing at the doll, "Whoever made, and owned, that thing is a twisted fuck."
Raven returned to the doll, brushing off the moss from its clothing - revealing intricate stitching underneath. It was all clearly painstakingly hand stitched. The shawl was a beautiful thing, stitched in two layers with tasselled edges - and hooded as well. A red cravat was tied around the doll's neck, which was pinned with a brass brooch. Its bonnet was adorned with two dead roses.
Whoever owned the doll had clearly loved and cherished it, and so Raven could only wonder as to why the doll was abandoned in the middle of nowhere. Clearly, the doll was not of this current era either.
"Hey, what are you doing?" Qrow called.
"Digging it up," she answered.
"Why?"
"Because we need to return to father with something, Qrow," Raven glanced backward with a raised eyebrow, "What do you think he'll say if we return empty-handed?"
"Yeah, well - a doll is totally weirder."
"Use your bloody eyes for a moment, will you? This is fine Hashi porcelain, whoever owned this thing was a nobleman. And these are antique Valean clothes. We are looking at money here!"
"So we're going to lug this thing back to camp?"
"No shit, you dumbass, now come and help me."
Raven turned back to the doll and began untangling it from the roots, taking out her blade to hack away at the wood and brush. Once the doll was free enough to be dug out, Raven knelt down and began shovelling away at the dirt. She glanced up at the doll's face, meeting its single lifeless grey-green eye.
…
Was its eye always open?
Author's Note:
First time writing a child's/teen's perspective, and I admit it's difficult to use simple words when I'm so used to writing elaborately. Hope this sells their age enough - Raven is a mature girl, after all, so it makes sense her thoughts wouldn't be so... simple? That's my excuse, anyway.
Anyway, I have no idea where I'm going with this - but I hope you stay and enjoy the ride nonetheless!