11

Geralt crouched in the cover of a thicket, just a hundred or so yards from the outer edges of the swarm of Grimm. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He opened them with a slow exhalation, letting his Aura surge as he unleashed his Semblance.

The Grimm seemed lit from within with a sickly red light. It streamed out through their eyes and dripped like molten rubies from their slavering jaws. They padded around the perimeter of the ruined village, seemingly aimless.

Seemingly. With his Semblance active he could see something he had missed before. There was a pattern, a method to the Grimm's motions. They were distributed around the ruins, slowly orbiting it in interlocking spirals and rings, with the few Ursae staying spread throughout the Beowolf horde. It was even more obvious with the Nevermores above, which were flying in a series of concentric rings interspersed with more complex elliptic or figure-eight patterns that nonetheless never caused or even approached collisions.

This was not a randomly wandering horde. There was an intelligence here, albeit perhaps an animal, instinctive one. They weren't just congregating around the keep; they were defending it. Patrolling the surrounding valley.

Geralt grimaced. For a moment he considered calling the operation off. If there was a true intelligence behind this horde, some kind of hive mind, it might be far beyond the capacity of his students to handle. And yet, if there was such a leader, could Vale afford him to fall back without gathering more information?

Well, he supposed it wasn't entirely his decision. He crept back into the brush, careful not to make any rustling with the leaves and branches as he passed, and returned to JNPR and Regis huddled in the cover of the trees. "They're patrolling," he reported, looking at Jaune. "There's a pattern to their movements. I think they're actively trying to defend the keep. I don't know why."

"Is that something Grimm normally do?" Jaune asked, looking nervous.

"Not as far as I know," Geralt said grimly.

"In fairness," Regis said, "Grimm behavior is a poorly researched field. Beyond their attraction to negative emotion and their increasing tactical intellect with advancing age, little is known of how they think and make decisions. For all we know, such patrol patterns are common in assembling swarms—especially if it took Geralt's Semblance to identify they method to their movements."

Geralt nodded in acknowledgement. "That's true. It's possible they have an ingrained patrol instinct we don't really know about. If so, it'd be nice to document it."

"But it's also possible," said Ren grimly, "that there is an old, intelligent Grimm hidden in the keep, in command of the rest."

"Exactly," Geralt agreed. "Jaune—this is your mission. What do you think we should do?"

Jaune blinked, suddenly panicked. "Wait, m-me? What?"

"You're the leader of Team JNPR," Geralt said, "and this is a JNPR mission that Regis and I are accompanying you on. What happens next is your call."

Jaune swallowed. "Um. If we fall back… what happens to our grades?"

"I don't know," said Geralt neutrally. "I'd have to talk to Glynda and Ozpin about what we saw and what the right thing to do in this context is. I don't think they'll try to fail you—and if they do, I'll fight them on it—but they may not give you full marks."

Jaune grimaced, looking at his teammates. "Well, uh, what do you guys think?"

Pyrrha tapped her lips thoughtfully. "It seems early to call the mission done," she said. "We haven't had a single engagement with the Grimm."

"They're too well-organized for us to reliably pull small groups," said Ren. "We can try, using my Semblance, but if we fail…"

"We can take them!" said Nora brightly.

"All of them?" Ren asked. "That's a lot of Grimm—even for you, Nora."

Nora flushed, pleased. Jaune scratched his head. "Okay," he said. "I agree with Pyrrha—it's too early to give up. We haven't learned enough about why the Grimm are behaving like they are. We need to have a little more to show for it. But we really can't afford to get pinned and boxed in."

"Agreed," said Pyrrha, smiling at him. "Can we secure a route for a fighting retreat?"

"Not without leaving someone behind to watch our backs," said Jaune. He nodded to himself, his blue eyes sharpening with determination. "Okay. Pyrrha and Ren, you're our forward team. You two go in with Geralt to investigate. Nora and I will stay back and secure the exit with Regis." He looked at Ren. "We'll start by trying to separate a patrol to thin their numbers, but if that doesn't work, we're going to have to strike hard and fast. Let's look around the perimeter and see what entrances the keep has."

Geralt's brows had risen slowly as Jaune spoke. When he finished, no one spoke for a moment. All of them were looking at him.

Jaune coughed, flushing and rubbing the back of his neck. "Um. Does that sound good?"

"Yes!" Pyrrha said, visibly shaking herself. "At least, I think?" She looked at Geralt for confirmation.

Geralt nodded. "It's a good plan," he said. "Let's do a walkabout. While we do, you can explain why you gave everyone the assignments you did, so I have something to grade."

"Oh!" Jaune blinked as he started after Geralt. The rest of his team, and Regis, followed them. "Well, uh, for the forward team, I figured you were necessary because your Semblance and training make you the best for searching for… whatever it is we're looking for. Ren needed to be on the forward team to give you any chance at sneaking in, and Pyrrha's the best student fighter, so they're with you."

Geralt nodded along as Jaune spoke. "Makes sense," he said, sidestepping a loose branch and holding out a hand to keep Jaune from stepping on it. "Did you have a plan for the rear guard, or was it just a matter of taking the other half of the group?"

"Well, um," Jaune shrugged awkwardly. "Nora and Regis are both great fighters, but Nora's slower than Ren or Pyrrha, which makes her better suited to hold the rear, and I figured we needed Regis in case things went badly out here. And, uh, my kit is better suited to holding a position than sneaking into a keep, what with my shield and the Dust in my sword."

Geralt nodded. He saw Jaune's face fall at his silence, but—as he'd hoped—Pyrrha spoke up before he had to.

"Jaune," she said. "That… you came up with that in just a few seconds?"

"Oh! Uh, not really?" he laughed quietly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I've been thinking a little about it since last night. It just… kinda made sense, didn't it?"

"Jaune, please don't sell yourself short," Pyrrha said, coming up to walk beside him and giving him a smile. "I don't know that I could have come up with as good a plan as quickly as you did."

"O-of course you could!" Jaune stuttered. "You're—"

"—A champion in single combat," Pyrrha finished for him, her smile going wry. "I'm not experienced in thinking tactically about the strengths and weaknesses of a team."

"Like I said, Jaune," Geralt murmured. "You might not be the best fighter on your team, but you don't have to be."

Jaune blinked at him. Then, flushing, he looked down at his shoes as they crept through the woods.

The lamp tumbled to the ground between the four of them. Summer stooped and picked it up.

"Wait," Qrow said. "Really?"

"You're surprised?" Summer asked.

"Uh, yes?" Qrow held out his hands in bewilderment. "Who knows how many thousands of years since Salem first showed up, and suddenly the one person who can beat her shows up out of nowhere?"

"You know this 'Geralt of Rivia' then?" Raven asked.

Summer nodded, striding back towards the vault. "He's the one who saved me from the incubus," she said. She replaced Jinn's lamp on its pedestal, then turned and started back out of the desert. "Zielon worked with him to take out the Leshen."

"Hm. I'll have to ask him about it once he returns," said Raven as Summer emerged from the vault. She stepped up and passed her hand over the golden door, which began to close again with a rumble. Then she turned back to face the rest of them. "So," she said. "I suppose you'll be running back to Ozpin now with the good news?"

"Oh, come on!" Qrow exclaimed, gesticulating wildly in frustration. "I get giving up when you think there's no chance, but now there is a chance! We can win! Why the f—"

"Qrow," Summer interrupted. "Let it go."

"Let it go?" Qrow glared at her, his eyes red with old exhaustion and despair. "You want me to just give up on her?"

"I have my own responsibilities—" Raven began.

"Yes," Summer said shortly. She strode past Raven, ignoring her erstwhile partner's wide, wounded eyes on her back as she approached Qrow. "I have. Let's get home."

"Summer…" Raven's voice was hoarse. "I didn't mean—if I'd known—"

"You think this is about that?" Summer asked, turning and looking Raven in the eye. "It's not. Hell, even if you had abandoned me there, I'd at least understand that. I can be a vindictive bitch myself. But I never would have pegged you for a coward, Rae."

Fury blossomed in Raven's eyes like a house catching fire. "A coward?" she hissed. "Is that what you think of me now, Summer? I'm just trying to care for my tribe in the face of extinction. They need me. You have no idea what it takes to survive out here!"

Summer gave Raven a slow, unimpressed blink. "Right," she said. "I'm sure Vernal feels very protected."

"Don't drag me into this," Vernal drawled at her back.

Summer ignored her. "And I'm sure your predecessor would agree with your assessment of your strength," she said with a dry, mirthless smile.

"She was weak!" Raven shouted. "Too weak for this power, too weak for this world!"

"Oh, shut up," said Summer. Silence fell. Everyone's eyes were on her. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "For my part in hurting you, I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I remember you being more than powerful. I remember you being strong. I remember you being fierce in your love and ferocious in defense of the people you cared about. I remember my partner standing between me and the Grimm more times than I can count."

Raven had staggered back, her back against the golden vault door. Her eyes flickered like tiny flames. Her hands shook, gripping the hilt of her sword like a lifeline.

Summer glanced at Vernal, then looked back at Raven. "There are a lot of things I regret having missed over the past twelve years," she said. "But if my being here could have prevented you becoming someone who put children in between yourself and the Grimm, that might be near the top of the list. And if I couldn't have prevented it, then I'm almost glad I didn't have to see it happening."

"It's not… like that," mumbled Raven.

Summer just looked at her, loathing herself for the surge of pity rising up in her. "I'm sorry, Rae," she said. "I'm so, so sorry."

"You're sorry?" Raven asked with a short, wounded laugh.

"Yes," Summer said. "Everyone thought I was dead for twelve years. They didn't even notice you fading away in the meantime. I miss you." Her voice shook unbidden. "I miss you so much."

Raven slumped against the vault door like a ragdoll, barely kept upright on shaking legs. One of her hands passed over her eyes as they slid shut. She said nothing at all.

Summer watched her for a moment, then turned and stepped off the bridge. There was a rustle of feathers above her as Qrow followed.

There was only one real gate into the keep. There were windows, but none on the ground floor, and none large enough for a human to get through. After orbiting the ruins once, the six of them settled into the brush as near as they could get to the keep's entrance.

"Okay," said Jaune. "This is… gonna be hard." He looked at Ren. "How's your Aura?"

Ren shrugged. He'd used his Semblance a few times as they walked the perimeter when Grimm had seemed to notice them. "I'm still in the green," he said, "but not by much."

"Okay." Jaune bit his lip. "We can't waste what you have to try and split them up. You'll need it all to get in without them jumping on you. Okay, new plan." He turned to Nora. "We're going to distract them, pull the Grimm towards the other side of the ruins. Then, Ren, you take Geralt and Pyrrha into the castle."

"Good plan," said Geralt. "Regis, you ready?"

"I am," Regis confirmed.

"Okay," said Jaune. "Let's get going. Wait for our signal, then try to sneak in."

"What's the signal?" Geralt asked.

"Explosions!" Nora said gleefully.

"Yeah, that," Jaune confirmed. He took a deep breath, visibly steeling himself. Then he raised his shield. "Nora, wanna make an entrance?"

"Do I!?" Nora leapt into the air. She planted her boots on Jaune's shield, bending her knees like a coiling spring. Jaune let out a grunt as he shoved her upwards, just as she leapt with a mad cackle. She was launched skyward like a missile, and Jaune sprinted after her. Regis rolled his head along his shoulders for a moment before shooting after them in a puff of black smoke.

There was no mistaking the moment when Nora struck. The sound shook the whole forest.

"All right," Pyrrha said, looking at Ren. "Hide us, and we'll slip past."

Ren nodded, putting a hand on each of their arms and concentrating for a moment. Geralt felt the telltale sinking sensation of having his emotions muted. "Ready," said Ren.

Pyrrha looked at Geralt. He looked back at her, expectant. "Let's go," she said, and led the way out of the forest.

They hadn't made it more than a quarter mile from the entrance to the Haven vault when Qrow slowed to a halt. Summer stopped a few feet ahead of him, looking back. "What's up?" Summer asked.

Qrow just stared at her. His mouth opened, then shut soundlessly. He swallowed. There was a lost, helpless distance to his gaze.

"Oh, Qrow," she murmured, crossing the few paces of distance between them and throwing her arms around him. "I'm so sorry."

"She's using a kid as a decoy," Qrow mumbled, burying his head in her shoulder. "She can't be more than twenty, maybe twenty-one? And Rae's using her as bait. What the hell happened to my sister, Summ?"

He shook weakly in her arms. She held him, saying nothing, feeling a very faint prickling in her eyes. But it passed quickly. She knew what had happened to Raven. It was the same thing that happened to every Huntsman, in the end. Fear. The single trait every natural lifeform on Remnant shared, the enemy of trust, the killer of hope.

"And Oz!" Qrow's grip around her suddenly tightened, his voice cracking furiously. "All of this—everything he's done! Everything he did to us! And all along, he thought it was for nothing? And he didn't even tell us?"

Of course he didn't, thought Summer sadly, running a hand through Qrow's shaggy hair soothingly. You saw how Rae reacted to finding out. How many times had Oz seen friends and companions fall in just the same way? How many times had he thought, this time for sure, this time I can trust someone, only to be proven wrong?

How long had it taken before he had given up?

How long had it been since he'd given up?

"Say something, Summ," Qrow begged. "Please. Anything."

Summer squeezed him against herself. "Try to forgive them, Qrow," she said softly.

"Even Rae?" he asked. "You didn't seem like you were in the mood to forgive her."

"I will," she said. "Eventually, I will. It'll take me some time, but… I understand her."

"Then explain it to me," he said hoarsely. "Please."

"She was afraid," Summer said simply.

"We're all afraid! That doesn't make this okay!"

"Of course not," said Summer. "But—put yourself in her shoes for a second. Suddenly it feels like every fear she's ever had about Salem is confirmed. She feels like it's hopeless. Her marriage with Tai fell apart, I've just disappeared, and she's staring down the prospect of everyone she's ever cared for going the same way. She gives up. She decides that, if she can't trust people to stay with her, then she can't bear to care about them anymore. And she does her best to stop."

Qrow breathed in against her, still shuddering, but gradually he slowed. "If Ozpin had told us," he said. "If she hadn't had to find out like that…"

"Things might have been different," Summer agreed. "They might also not have been. You know Oz as well as I do, Qrow—don't you think he's tried?"

"Brothers, this is messed up," muttered Qrow. In a sudden motion he tore himself away from her, staggering to a nearby tree and driving his fist into the trunk. "Damn it."

Summer looked at him sadly. "Let's get a couple of beds for the night," she suggested. "I'll check in with Leo, in case he needs anything urgently, and then if not we can head back to Beacon in the morning."

Qrow slumped against the tree, his forehead pressing into the bark. "I need a drink," he muttered.

Summer grimaced, then sighed. "Just… be careful, okay?"

"I will," he said. He looked at her, and it wasn't just his irises that were red. "Thanks, Summ."

"I'm going to break you of that habit," Summer promised. "Just… it doesn't have to be today."

The walk into the city of Mistral was slow and quiet. Summer led the way past the shantytown outside the walls, through the shabby lower city, and into the middle city, where vibrantly colored, traditional Mistrali buildings were interspersed with the brutal concrete of the Great War period. She pulled Qrow into a small in, sat him down at the bar and called over the host.

"He's had a really rough day," she told him quietly, handing him a hundred lien. "I'll be back in two, maybe three hours. He won't make any trouble, just make sure he doesn't hurt himself and I'll cover any more of his tab when I get back, okay? If he falls asleep, have someone get him into a room and I'll pay for that too."

The bartender, a Mistrali woman perhaps a year or two younger than Summer, nodded sympathetically. "We'll keep him safe," she said. "He'll be here when you get back."

"Thank you so much," Summer said, and after giving Qrow's shoulder a comforting squeeze she turned to leave.

"Summer," Qrow said hoarsely. She turned back to him. He looked more than twice her age. For a moment he visibly struggled to find words. Then, in a helpless whisper, he just said, "I'm sorry," and turned to his first drink.

Summer rubbed his back comfortingly. "It's okay," she said, then left.

With the aid of Ren's Semblance, Pyrrha led the three of them past the swarming Grimm. The horde was a writhing mass, orbiting Jaune, Nora, and Regis like the gales of a hurricane. In the confusion, the second team was able to slip through unnoticed.

By the time they reached the great wooden door, mouldering away slowly but still thick and heavy, Ren was panting with exertion. Geralt reached up and pulled hard on the rusted iron handle. The door slowly creaked ajar.

"Inside," Pyrrha ordered. Geralt and Ren slipped in after her. When he saw that the hall before them was empty, Geralt reached back and pulled the door closed behind them.

It was only after the door shut that Geralt noticed his medallion jittering like a captured insect on his breast. It had started buzzing the moment they crossed the threshold.

Gasping, Ren released his Semblance. "That was more difficult than I expected," he said between gulps of stale air. "I think it gets harder the more Grimm I'm trying to hide from."

"You think?" Geralt asked, looking around the entrance hall.

It was a large room, two stories high with balconies overlooking the cracked stone of what might once have been a ballroom floor. The only light was provided by several slit windows on the upper floor, allowing narrow ribbons of golden light to penetrate the gloom. An ancient piano still sat in one corner of the room, a thick blanket of dust dulling the black varnish. Geralt noticed that the balconies had low stone barriers instead of mere railings. Perhaps they were meant to serve as defensible perches in the event of an attack. It did not seem to have been much help.

"It's definitely not linear," Ren said, leaning back against the wall to the left of the door, his eyes squeezed shut. "I've never noticed a significant difference before, but I've never been around anything like that many Grimm in one place before either.

"Will you be able to get us out again?" Pyrrha asked. She didn't sound frightened, merely focused, gathering the necessary information to formulate a plan.

"I can get us part of the way," Ren answered. "We'll need to run once we pass the others."

"I can speed us up when the time comes," Pyrrha said. Then she turned. "Geralt—your Semblance. Do you see anything?"

Geralt blinked, and when he opened his eyes, the world looked different. The walls of the hallway, previously cracked, mossy stone, suddenly seemed to be dripping with a black ooze. Oily, sickly magic drifted through the very air around them, unaffecting and unaffected by their presence of the three interlopers.

Grimm, he had found, had traces of a festering, black magic surrounding them. This was the same—but orders of magnitude more than he had ever seen before. "This place is thick with Grimm magic," he warned his students, voice low. "Stay close and keep your eyes open."

Only the faintest rustle of their clothes and the soft sound of their breathing marked their passage as they crept across the hall. The dust on every surface muffled the sound of their footfalls, even as puffs of it rose up with every step.

They crossed the hall and came to a fork in the path. Two corving staircases rose up to the balcony above, but one path led further into the keep. Examining the doorway, Geralt saw something he had missed from a distance.

So did Pyrrha. "This portcullis," she murmured, touching the tip of the warped metal above the open doorway. "This wasn't raised…"

"It was torn open," Geralt finished. He activated his Semblance again, for just a moment, and immediately saw that the Grimm miasma was noticeably thicker down the corridor. "Whatever caused all this went that way," he said. "It might still be down there."

"Then let's be quick," said Pyrrha, glancing back. "Jaune and Nora can't hold the Grimm forever."

Ren nodded, looking grim. "Lead the way," he said.

Pyrrha did, still moving quietly but sacrificing some stealth in order to pick up the pace. The tunnel grew rapidly darker, so when they passed by a torch bracketed to the wall on their left, Geralt tugged it free and lit it with a quick Igni.

The corridor soon opened into a vast banquet hall, wide enough that the edges of it were uncertain shapes in the dim torchlight. Geralt flickered on his Semblance again. There was a concentration of the dark mist in one corner of the room. As they approached, he saw that it was a trapdoor, broken open. The ladder below it was also shattered.

"I can get us down there safely, no matter how long the drop is," Pyrrha said. "But it will take some concentration to get us back up again, and we have no idea what we'll be facing." She looked at Geralt. "What should we do?"

"It's your decision, not mine," Geralt told her.

"Yes, but you'll be the one grading us," Ren pointed out.

Geralt shrugged. "If you're just worried about the grade, I think you have enough justification for turning around now that I won't be harsh."

Pyrrha bit her lip, glanced at Ren, then back at Geralt. "We aren't just worried about our grade, though," she said. "Someone's going to have to find out what did all this."

"You could leave it to more experienced Huntsmen," said Geralt neutrally.

"We could," Pyrrha said. "But they're not here right now. Geralt, you first. Then Ren, and I'll bring up the rear. I'll slow us just enough for us to fall safely."

"No need," said Ren, looking down into the hole. "I can slow myself, I think."

"And I have Quen," said Geralt. "Save your energy for the way back up." He took a deep breath, twisted his fingers in the Quen sign, and jumped down feet-first.

He fell perhaps twenty feet, pressing against the walls of the pit to slow himself with friction, then landing in a roll. A moment later, he heard the blades of StormFlower scraping against the stone behind him as Ren made a similar maneuver. As he stood up, he heard Pyrrha descend slowly, her feet strking the ground hard, but not hard enough to injure.

His torch had gone out as he fell, so Geralt snapped his fingers alongside the sign of Igni to reignite it. He held it aloft.

This room must once have been a wine-cellar. Along three of the four walls, barrels were bundled on racks. Several more were piled throughout the room, and the debris left by dozens beyond that were scattered all across the floor. Geralt noted all this with one idle corner of his brain. The rest of him was entirely focused on the thing curled and dozing against the room's final wall.

It was a Beowolf as large as a truck. It lay curled like a hound at the foot of its master's bed, back to the stone wall, limbs and snout facing towards the three of them. It breathed slow and deep, seemingly fast asleep.

"What on Remnant is that?" whispered Pyrrha in mounting horror.

Ren made a small sound in the back of his throat. When he spoke, his voice was awed and terrified in equal measure. "Fenrisulfr," he whispered.

"Professor Lionheart?" Summer called, knocking on the door. The richly furnished antechamber behind her seemed oddly empty, but she had heard that many of Mistral's huntsmen were out of the city on assignment right now. "It's Summer Rose."

A pause. "Oh, Mrs. Rose!" Leo Lionheart's voice from within sounded shakier than she remembered. She hoped the past twelve years hadn't aged him too much. "Come in!"

She opened the door and stepped inside. Her heart sank as she saw the formerly robust Headmaster. His rich mane of golden blond hair had grayed completely. His face was lined with care and exhaustion. There were dark circles under his eyes belying long, sleepless nights. "Hello, Professor," she said.

"Mrs. Rose," he said, blinking at her. "I must say, this is a surprise. I had no idea you were even in Anima."

"I haven't been for long," she said. "And I don't intend to stay all that long, either. Qrow and I are spending the night in the city, but the current plan is to head out in the morning."

"Back to Vale?"

She nodded. "Yup," she said. "I just figured since we were here check in—I haven't seen you in more than a decade."

"I'm well enough," said Lionheart. Summer didn't need to see the way he looked away from her to know that he was lying—it was written in the tired slump of his shoulders and the lines on his face.

"That's good to hear," said Summer, smiling at him. She knew as well as anyone how important a brave face could be. "I was also wondering if you needed anything urgently. Qrow's… busy, tonight, but I've got a few hours if there's something I can help with."

"Oh, hmm," Lionheart mumbled distractedly, rifling through the papers on his desk. "I think there is something we could use some help with, if—if you have a couple hours to spare today."

"I can do that," said Summer, thinking of Qrow slumping at that bar. Two to three hours, she'd said. She could give him that long. "What do you need?"

"A—a simple pickup," said Lionheart. He seemed embarrassed, having trouble meeting her eyes. "I don't have any huntsmen to spare today, but if you're busy I can have someone handle it tomorrow. It's not urgent…"

"I don't mind," said Summer. "What am I picking up, and from where?"

"A missive sent by a field agent on the other side of Anima," said Lionheart. "It should be at a dead drop just outside the lower city. Hang a left outside the gates, then follow the cliffs until you come to a patch of irises on a terrace about ten feet up the cliff. The dead drop is under a boulder behind the flowers."

"All right," said Summer. "Seems simple enough. I'll be back in a couple hours."

Lionheart met her eyes for just a moment before his gaze flickered back out the window. "I'll—I'll see you then," he said. He sounded tired, even frail.

Summer frowned. "Are you all right, Professor?" she asked gently. "Is something wrong?"

He was silent for a long moment. Then, seeming to steel himself, he turned back to her and looked her in the eye. "Just fighting off a cold," he said with a weak little smile, wiping away a bead of sweat on his brow. "I'll be all right."

"Get some rest," she advised. "Haven will still be here tomorrow. I'll bring you back your letter and then you should get some sleep."

He looked back down at his desk. "I'm sure I'll sleep well when you return," he said quietly.

"Good," said Summer. "I'll be back soon. See you then, Professor." She turned and walked out the door, shutting it gently behind her.

Leo slumped over after she left. Then he reached into his desk and pulled out a simple, black scroll. He flicked it open and called the only number saved on it. "Doctor?" he said shakily. "Summer Rose is here. I've given you an opportunity for an ambush, but you'll have to be quick."

I am officially out of backlog. I'm hoping that the impending threat of losing my months-long streak of weekly uploads will force me to get chapter 12 finished by next week, but be aware that it may not happen.