Hello dear reader! Welcome back to the 4th chapter of 'The Darkling Thrush'!

I just want to take a moment to give a special shout out to Baoh joestar, Blu3 Fir3 and Guest. Thanks for the kind words guys! I mean it! Thank you!

And I'd also like to give another shout out to TheRealCheese for following this story. And, well what do you know? Blu3 Fir3! A special thank you to you good sir! Thanks for the favorite!

IV

Russel: Part 4

It was beyond Oakwood where The White Fang were anything other than a combination of words. The same could be said of The Iron Nail. There were whispers of The Iron Nail and his deeds across Vale, usually passed on through a dying man's last breathe. Adam Taurus' Fist, as he was called.

The Iron Nail stood tall, bulky, and dressed in a white tunic with a hood along dark cargo pants. Standard issue White Fang garb. The White Fang hood was off and his snow white hair reflected the dancing flames and their light.

The Iron Nail wore his past on his arms. There were echoes of physical abuse on the scars running down his forearms. Untold battles were raged with his hands as not even the healing properties of one's aura could heal the damage to his crusted palms.

The Iron Nail crossed his arms over his chest and looked to those who followed him. His three associates were named as so: Troia, a faunus with antlers and wielded a mighty sword. Gregory, a faunus who had fangs and facial hair that resembled a wolf. He carried with him Mace with electricity buzzing around its pointy tips. And then there was Maulla, a faunus with a pig snout who carried with her an axe with fire dripping out of its sharp blade.

To The Iron Nail's back was once fruitful crops. Now all that remained was fire.

"It all burns." The Iron Nail spoke, his voice sounding like brick scraping against gravel. "All of it." With that, the White Fang set off with the rest of Oakwood and its many farms on their sights.

When Russel and his dad arrived, many of their neighbors were already hard at work attempting to squash the blaze. Their neighbors were rushing to douse the flames and prevent it from spreading.

The Thrushes caught sight of Marlowe, who owned this specific farm and rushed over. "Marlowe, what's going on?!" The Thrush Patriarch questioned.

Marlowe turned away from a pair of farmhands to meet with the Thrushes. "They came out of nowhere." Marlowe spoke in dismay. "They just started burning everything!"

"Who?" The Thrush elder inquired.

"It was The White Fang!" Marlowe cried. "Four of them just strolled in. Now their setting fire to our homes!"

"The White Fang. No…" The Thrush elder grimaced. "Where are they now?"

"Some of our neighbors ran on ahead to the Bluebottoms." Marlowe spun around with the help of his cane He pointed to a house an acre away. "The White Fang headed that way."

"Russel let's go!" The Thrush Patriarch called out before sprinting in the direction of the Bluebottoms. The elder Thrush's movements were aura enfused. No man could run that fast.

"But what about Marlowe's land?" Russel called out to his Father. But the distance between Ftaher and Son was already too great. Russel's question fell on deaf ears.

"Go on boy, help your Father!" Marlow urged. "My farmhands and I can handle this. The White Fang need to be stopped before they do anymore damage!" As if on cue, the Bluebottom house hold burst into flames off in the distance. "Go!"

Russel nodded and took off after his Father.

"Why are you doing this?!" Mrs. Bluebottom cried while she held her unconscious daughter in her arms. The Iron Nail turned away from the burning Bluebottom household to answer her question.

"We do this because you deserve it. All of you." He spoke soundly, carrying a commanding tone that froze Mrs. Bluebottom where she stood. "Not a single faunus farm hand around. Oakwood is a symbol of oppression that's plagued my kind for years. It needs to be torn down and rise a new!"

The Iron Nail stalked towards Mrs. Bluebottom. His massive shadow completely swallowing the farmer's wife. He rose his dagger and then brought it down, aiming to murder the woman where she stood.

But the fatal blow was intercepted. The Iron Nail rose his eyes as Mr. Bluebottom had appeared. It seemed The Iron Nail had forgotten, these just weren't farmers, these were Huntsman who also happened to be farmers.

The moment passed and The Iron Nail made sure not to let that small action be interpreted as a moral victory. The Iron Nail could not allow the people to believe they could win. So he powered on through and struck Mrs. Bluebottom with the butt of his dagger, knocking her over.

Mr. Bluebottom cried out for his wife and child. The Iron Nail then seized the opportunity to grab the farmer and smash him into the ground. With the Bluebottoms incapacitated, The Iron Nail set off. There was more work to be done.

The rest of The White Fang had already begun to set fire to the neighboring farmlands. The huntsman dwelling there began to pick up arms and take the fight against The White Fang. But they were too out of shape and too disorganized to muster a proper defensive. The White Fang just bowled right over them and continued to set fire to the land.

When Russel arrived at the Bluebottoms, he'd caught sight of the unconscious family and dragged them away from their burning farm. He left them in a barren wet field, lessening the chances of them being burned alive in their less than pleasant slumber.

Russel looked to his Father and stared in wonder. The man he'd known his entire life, the one with the disappointed expressions and unapologetic remarks was replaced by a man reveling in the fury of combat. A fire burned in the man's eyes. Seemingly with every strike and every clash, a piece of his cold exterior was chipped away.

This was what he was, Russel thought. This was what his Father was before him, before being a Father. Before all of this, the Thrush Patriarch was a Huntsman. It was something they never talked about. Those days when the man had faced countless dangers.

Never had Russel thought his Father missed the life. He'd retired and that was the end of it. But it seemed he'd been mistaken. He'd guessed wrong as every action his Father made disproved his assumptions.

The Thrush Patriarch had the White Fang member on the defensive. Troia just held the old Huntsman at bay, but he could feel his resolve weakening. One look at into the man's eyes told a story about a man who'd lost the world but he was still there. The soul of a soldier still lived in that greying body and it was clawing its way out.

Russel followed his Father's example and charged one of The White Fang. At least he was hoping it was a member of The White Fang, they all dressed the same right?

So Russel charged at The Iron Nail with his back turned and swung. Russel's actions did not go unnoticed. The Iron Nail activated his semblance, coating his body with a metal layer. Russel's blade simply broke to pieces against The Iron Nail's metallic flesh.

"Hmph. Human." The Iron Nail muttered before backhanding Russel away, knocking him several feet away from where he stood. Russel rolled passed fire and was forced to raise his hands to protect himself from the full onslaught of the blaze. Eventually Russel came to a halt, landing on a piece of shattered wood, which tore at his side, causing him to yell in pain.

The Thrush Patriarch, in all the excitement turned away, spotting his son on the ground clutching his side. But the elder Thrush couldn't worry about that, not just yet. He had the White Fang right where he wanted him. So the elder Thrush swung at Troia and smacked his sword against his clothed arm.

Troia's aura took the brunt of the blow, but the force knocked Troia off his feet and to the ground. The elder Thrush prepared to deliver a killing blow. But then everything stopped. His left arm grew numb and his chest began to pain.

The Thrush Patriarch fell to the ground, his sword falling to his side. The man came to lay on his back, his eyes wide open and staring up at the night sky while he clutched his chest. Beads of sweat ran down his forehead while his vision played tricks on him. That pounding in his chest was erratic and the thumping burned through his ears.

Troia took the opportunity to get back onto his feet and run away, leaving the man who'd bested him to his sudden heart attack. "Where've you been?" Maulla inquired somewhat playfully.

"Oh don't start with me." Troia said angrily.

"Enough." The Iron Nail spoke loudly. The four White Fang members gathered together. The Iron Nail pointed out into the distance to an untouched farm. The Thrush farm. "The night is young. We have work to do."

"Dad?!" Russel shouted. The younger Thrush picked himself up off the ground and took off to be by his Father's side.

"I see her." The elder Thrush spoke meekly. Russel just held the man while he cried. His greying beard was now dripping sweat and tears. "I see her." The Thrush Patriarch pulled his right arm away from his chest and reached out into the sky, as if attempting to grab ahold of something that wasn't there.

"Someone help!" Russel shouted. But help would not be coming for the Thrushes. Farmers ran by, still attempting to douse the flames. Not too far out, those few farmers who still thought themselves Huntsmen were falling to the White Fang. It was just them, as it always was, Father and Son.

"No one's going to give you anything." The Thrush Patriarch spoke weakly. "But you know this already…"

"Dad…"

"You have your Mother's eyes…" The elder Thrush said. With one final breath, the life in the man's eyes died. The flow of tears ceased and his arm fell limp, collapsing to the ground.

Russel looked down into his Father's lifeless eyes. His brain was a mixed bag of emotions and incomplete thoughts. Maybe it was just shock, Russel had never really watched anyone die before. Maybe it was the realization that the flame the shone bright this evening was gone, leaving behind those vacant eyes that looked after him since birth. His father had been a walking corpse his entire life and he'd never known it.

In these instances the loved one would weep endlessly, but Russel just couldn't find it in him to act in such a manner. That was something Russel was good at now wasn't he? No one would give you anything, that's what his Father had told him. Not even tears.

The world came crashing down around Russel. A thousand thoughts, voices and noises cluttered his head. The people, his neighbors were crying out for help as the fires raged. Those who stood in the White Fang's path were quickly trampled over and lay in the dirt, not just yet a part of it, however.

Russel could hear the fires flapping in the wind. He could feel the heat radiating against his exposed skin, cooking him alive. The farmers were watching their hard work go up in flames. The land that nourished their crops was burning. The lifeblood of Oakwood was dying.

And that made Russel angry.

Against the raging heat, Russel's entire body began to glow. An outward extension of his soul, his body was enveloped by aura. Russel pulled his arms away from holding his Father to get a good look at the physical changes his aura was making to his body.

He'd been lectured time and time again back in the academy that an aura had the power to heal minor wounds. He stared down at his burned hands and the bloodied gash on his side. He cleared his mind of any ill thoughts and just concentrated. His aura did as it was commanded and got to work.

Before Russel's eyes, his burns were gone and his gash was no more. He felt slightly dizzy. Aura was still a new thing to him after all. It would take a bit longer for him to master this new skill of his. But for the time being, he had to put that aside. The young Thrush, now the last, looked back down to his Father's body. Russel reached out and shut his eyes. After all those years, now finally he'd know peace.

But was it his Father knowing peace or himself? That would be a debate of itself for another day. So Russel stood up. Taking in the horror of what he saw through new eyes. He'd never heard from anyone in his class about dizzy spells or clouded vision after unlocking their auras. Maybe this was his semblance? Whatever that turned out to be.

Russel set his eyes far off into the distance. He could see white outfits reflecting off light in the distance back by his own home, his own farm. No doubt these White Fang aimed to set fire to his home next. And Russel just couldn't allow that.

So Russel reached down and picked up his Father's sword, the original 'Darkling', and set off with newfound speed to meet the enemy.

The White Fang quickly got to work. The Thrush barn was the first to be engulfed by flames. Maulla's fire spewing axe did all the heavy lifting while the others just stood and admired her handy work.

"Good work, Maulla." The Iron Nail congratulated his subordinate. "Now to the fields."

"Hey assholes!" All but The Iron Nail spun around, causing the senior member to sigh at how easily they trio accepted being referred to by the term. The Iron Nail followed their gazes, finding Russel sprinting towards them with is Father's sword in hand.

"Get away from my property!" Russel shouted angrily. To be honest, he'd never run this fast before. If it wasn't for the fact he had to fight four heavily armed terrorists, he'd just run right by them and see how far he could go before growing tired.

But alas, maybe later. So Russel leapt into the air and swung at Troia. But even with his new found speed, Troia was faster than him. The White Fang blocked his attack with relative ease and then kicked Russel while he was still he was still in the air, sending him flying through the wheat field.

Russel didn't have the chance to gather his bearings as The White Fang were already upon him.

"Tryin' to be a hero little man?" Troia laughed mockingly. He and the rest of the White Fang, aside from The Iron Nail, began to encircle Russel. They each rose their respective weapons and prepared to trade blows with the young man.

Russel took another swing at them, only to be intercepted by The Iron Nail. The larger man grabbed Russel with one hand and started charging into the woods that surrounded the Thrush farm. The Iron Nail then promptly began to charge Russel through trees like a battering ram. After using Russel for deforestation, The Iron Nail, with all his might, spun the younger Thrush and flung him into the woods.

Russel was sent flying through a tree. If he hadn't just unlocked his aura, without a doubt he'd never walk again. But with the aura, it felt more like the first time he'd ever been punched by his dad. Both unexpected and painful. Russel kept on flying, eventually soaring into darkness.

It was all downhill from there, quite literally actually. Russel went tumbling downward into a cave, eventually coming to a full stop. The Thrush groaned. Aura was finite and the beatings he'd endured through the night would surely have depleted it by now. So now Russel laid in the darkness of the cave. Staring upward, not sure how to proceed.

He'd tried and he'd tried, but nothing he did was good enough. The White Fang were stronger than him. Their weapons were beyond anything he could imagine and their skills were lightyears ahead of his. Oakwood and its people were doomed. And there was nothing Russel could do. Russel just closed his eyes in shame.

He was no Huntsman. He was Farmer who couldn't protect his home. He couldn't help his neighbors. What use was he?

Roar.

Russel opened his eyes at the sound. It was all too familiar to him by now. There was no room for speculation or doubt. He sat up, fighting against the pain and found himself face to face with a creature of Grimm. The Ursa.

The white head of the Ursa clashed with the darkness of the cave while its glowing red eyes stared into Russel's. It was trying to pierce into his soul, trying to gleam fear from the darkest pits of his soul. It wanted its meal afraid before it killed him. Lost in the Ursa's red eyes, Russel couldn't help what he saw. He was staring back at himself.

Russel didn't have to blink. He just realized he was back there in the forest. He was nine again. His back up against a figurative wall and a literal tree. He was staring back into the eyes of death. The Ursa was just as large as the one he'd encountered back then. His senses blocked out that scent of burning dreams and replaced it in his mind with the smell of fall leaves.

Everything was as it was in his head. It was night no longer but day. The Ursa was staring back at him, getting ready to strike. But unlike before, Russel's Father would not be coming to save him.

Was there fear in his eyes the? Back way then when he was a kid. Was there fear in his eyes now? Did it matter that he was afraid? Did the Grimm understand such concepts such as fear? Or maybe it didn't need to understand, it just recognized fear as something tangible and a worthwhile delicacy.

These Grimm, they were these soulless creatures, not animals. At least that's how Russel reasoned it. Animals possessed an understanding of emotions. Grimm could never understand such things nor could they exhibit such qualities. Grimm were said to be apparitions, dark spirits that possessed animals.

But you couldn't kill a spirit, could you? But you could kill the body. Wasn't that why the Grimm disintegrated after they were cut down? Those animals, subjected to unimaginable horrors. Their bodies mangled and mutated, turned inside out until it was no longer its own, a vessel for a wicked spirit. The body would die and the spirit would go on, no doubt to find another link to the physical world.

"It's you isn't it?" Russel cracked a bloody smirk. Crimson rivers flowed out of his mouth and onto his chin before dripping down onto his clothes. "It's you from all those years ago?" He laughed.

"Well what are you waiting for?" He questioned. The last they'd seen of each other, this spirit had aimed to kill him as a young boy, but now he just stared at him, unmoving. "Go on, isn't this what you wanted?" Russel glared into its eyes.

There was something off about the Ursa's eyes. Something Russel couldn't pin down. So he peered deeper into the glowing red void. And then he saw it. "You're scared." Russel's smirk evolved into a full blown shit eating grin, revealing his blood stained pearly whites. "You're scared!"

Russel shot up onto his feet, startling the Ursa. "You recognize me don't you?!" Russel broke out laughing. "Oh woe is you, the poor Ursa. You terrible thing of darkness, you're afraid of me?! Ha!" Russel shouted.

And he was right. He could see it, the Ursa was backing up, and it was quivering. "Ha!" Russel devolved into a manic cackle.

"I think I heard laughter in there!" A voice shouted.

The White Fang would be coming soon. They couldn't let him live. There was that primal urge deep down that everyone felt. Russel had offended them and they couldn't just let that go.

He could hear them. Four pairs of feet stomping their way into the darkened cave. With no aura and no weapon, Russel would surely perish in this next confrontation. But despite the rather grim outlook, Russel still had his brain.

He looked to the Ursa once more. It had been staring at him the entire time, debating what to do. But it wouldn't have to debate any longer. Russel had decided for it. Primal instincts, if a creature felt threatened it was given two choices, fight or flight.

So Russel reeled back his right arm and with all his might swung at the Ursa, bashing his fist against its head. At first, it looked like it didn't know what to think. Russel had just decked an Ursa, no aura no weapon. Just him and his fist.

"Come on you bastard." Russel spoke smugly. "Fight me."

And then, those glowing red eyes began to shine brighter. The Ursa was seeing red.

The White Fang stomped through the cave, their weapons in hand. They walked with Troia at the front, Maulla and Gregory covering each of his sides and The Iron Nail covering the rear with his unsheathed twin dust daggers.

"He should be in here." Troia muttered.

"Maybe you aren't as good at tracking as you thought." Maulla remarked.

"You saw that tree, you saw the impact crater in the dirt." Troia said defensively. "He smashed through and hit the ground. He had to have bounced and rolled in here. I didn't see any tracks. He couldn't have walked away. And I sure as hell didn't see anything indicating he'd dragged himself away either."

"Both of you, cease your prattle." The Iron Nail barked. "Be on your guard. A living enemy is a dangerous enemy."

"Who knows," Troia spared a glance over his shoulder. "Maybe he died on impact. He bounced right?"

"Now that wouldn't be any fun." Gregory murmured.

The four White Fang members snapped to attention. They could hear a pair of feet running at them. "Scuse me! Pardon me!" Russel shouted as he ran by the White Fang, dodging their attempts to cut him down with their various weapons. The Iron Nail simply let him run past. He liked to play with his quarry before he gutted it of course.

"After him!" Troia shouted, spinning around and shoving his sword into the air.

The rest of them began to spin around in order to give chase after Russel. But then came the roar. There was the distinct noise of claw cutting through flesh followed by the sickening sound of a head flying off shoulders and rolling aside.

The remaining three White Fang spun around to discover an Ursa standing over Troia's body. Blood was pooling at its feet. Its eyes were glowing intensely, more so than it should. The Iron Nail quickly put two and two together. Russel had pissed it off and now it was just killing everything in a blind fury.

Maulla attempted to activate her axe's secondary weapon feature, only for the Ursa to strike at her, slashing through her throat with ease. Before Maulla could even fall over, the Ursa was already atop Gregory, beating the man down with its claws, impaling him severely.

The Iron Nail raised his daggers to fight, only to realize how futile the situation was. He spun around and prepared to flee. The best his comrades could do now was provide the man the opportunity to escape. So that's what he did. The Iron Nail took off running, his fellow faunus' cries falling on deaf ears.

The cave drew silent. All that could be heard were the echoes of footsteps. The Iron Nail ran out the exit. But the man was caught unaware by Russel, who'd perched himself above the cave entrance. Russel leapt down into a kick, connecting against The Iron Nail's jaw.

"Muth-r-fauckr!" The Iron nail managed to say. Russel had dislocated the man's jaw with that kick. But it was nothing his aura couldn't fix. He just needed some time. But, until then, he was gonna gut the farm boy standing in front of him. "Ahmm gunne kuet thagt mug luk ov yur face." The Iron Nail activated his semblance, coating his skin in metal. He rose his twin daggers and prepared to make good on his threat.

Russel cracked a smile and pointed forward. "Don't none of you know not to turn your back on an enemy?"

The Iron Nail spared a look over his shoulder. His eyes widened as he found the Ursa standing behind him.

"Let me tell you, scary White Fang dude, I know Ursa." Russel spoke aloud as The Iron Nail was tackled by the Ursa. "The damn things are typically slow. But that sorry Yogi isn't like all the others now is he? They usually travel in pairs of two, but he's all by his lonesome. He's faster, stronger. He's a hunter. You're its prey."

The Iron Nail was trounced by the Ursa, knocking his daggers out of his hands and sending them flying. The daggers found themselves imbedded into the soil by Russel's feet. Russel paid no attention to The Iron Nail's cries as he attempted to fight the Ursa off bare handed. Russel was too busy plucking the daggers out of the ground.

Russel took each blade into each hand and weighed them. He tested them with a swing and couldn't help but admire how they each cut through the air. Russel looked back to The Iron nail and The Ursa. The Ursa, with all it's might bit down into The Iron Nail's arm, bursting through the metal covering his arm and lifted him into the air. With little to no effort, the Ursa flung The Iron Nail back into the darkness of the cave.

The Ursa spared a look back over to Russel and glared, its eyes still glowing intensely. But Russel stood his ground. He wasn't afraid of the Ursa. At least not that Ursa. There was no way the Ursa, or rather the dark spirit that possessed it could recognize Russel. He was just a kid on that fateful day.

But he'd grown up since then. Russel may have his mother's eyes but he was his Father's son. The man who killed the Ursa in its previous body. So the Ursa snorted, almost like an insult directed at Russel. Yeah, it could kill him, but it wouldn't. It couldn't. Because it was afraid. Even if it couldn't admit it.

"Stupid animal." Russel scoffed. "Couldn't even tell the difference." Russel remarked as he turned around and began to walk away, carrying with him on his shoulders two brand new daggers he was all too happy to have.

As he walked out of the forest, one of the trees he'd been rammed through this evening caught his eye. Russel approached the fallen oak tree. On its side, Russel could make out the carving he'd left in it all those years ago.

'Russel Thrush Was Here' it read.

"Damn right." He muttered before sauntering off.

So this story arc is drawing to a close. I honestly hope this met everyone's expectations.

The fight scenes are meant to portray Russel as a pretty crappy fighter, as up until now he's never had a an Aura. I might have taken a leap with the Ursa at the end. But I just found it intriguing, the whole idea around the Grimm being animals possessed by spirits. I just attributed that with Until Dawn and the wendigos.

I took some liberties with the OC The Iron Nail. I just thought that would be an interesting idea for where Russel got his weapons from. It also opens up all sorts of story potential when we get to Beacon. And The Iron Nail character might show up again, I'm not sure. I lie to go by the rule of, unless you see a body then he isn't dead. So, it all depends on where the story is headed.

I hope you liked this chapter. Next we'll be doing some clean up to set up Russel heading off to Beacon. After that I might do an interlude revolving around either Sky or Cardin. I'm not sure yet. I'm playing with the idea myself right now.

Well, until next time, dearest reader. Later Days!