Hello! I know metrics aren't everything but I feel like I would be remiss if I didn't mention that we've surpassed 100 favorites and 30,000 views. While it may not seem like terribly much compared to other stories it is not lost on me that 100 individual people like the story enough to come back with each upload. I'd be thrilled with 1. 100? I appreciate each and every one of you so much, and I hope I keep writing something that you all enjoy!
Anywho, let's get into it, shall we? Take us away, boys!
Hungry as he had been it was impossible to enjoy supper. The rain had come on suddenly, whipping him like watery lashes, colder than any summer storm had any right to be. While he had relieved himself of his armor and raiments there was little else beneath; his riding gear and underclothes were all that remained. The fire helped to warm Hazel considerably, yet even were he to sit within the flames themselves the inexplicable chill he felt now would refuse to leave. Dragging his wooden spoon through the thick, slop-like stew, his eyes flickered up to the man directly across the table once more.
Ahmar Fatalwa. Instructor of all things unsavory; stealth and subterfuge; redirection and misguidance. Though Hunters primarily dealt in slaying Grimm there were still instances where other Magi were the target. Rogues, as they so affectionately called them. Defectors who, for one reason or another, abandoned their posts and fled the Church's ranks.
To punish them was not in itself wrong. Should one of his own men abruptly leave their station with no explanation, Hazel would be forced to send someone after them, or seek them out himself. Barring any successful search and a bounty would be placed instead. Many of those in the Commandery's ranks knew critical information - patrol routes and locations of bases strewn throughout the kingdom to name a few - and compromising any of it could prove costly.
So, on a fundamental level, Hazel could not fault the Church of Remnant for punishing defectors. He could, however, fault them for their methods. Execution seemed to be the most common punishment, and he dared not think of whatever else they might undertake beyond that.
There were fates worse than death.
It did not take a prodigal level of intellect to surmise that a man like Ahmar must be at the forefront of those operations. A man who specialized in seeking people out, who just as assuredly could tail them as he could kill them, would be Ozpin's first pick to eliminate a target.
As Hazel forced himself to partake of the stew he tried not to dwell on that overmuch. His meal was greasy, more suitable to be the sort of fare offered in a small, remote tavern than a meal befitting man of his station. Food was food however and he would be remiss, not to mention insufferably rude, to turn down the generous hospitality. The beef was tender enough, the potatoes and carrots a bit overdone, mushy between his teeth, and more than once he was made to wipe clean his beard as juice dribbled into it.
Instead of pondering who Ahmar might be after - not that there were many choices so far from the city - Hazel tried to focus instead on the family hosting them. Alaine was by far the more agreeable of the two. From the first she tried to make peace among those present, offering easy smiles and idle chatter to distract from whatever ills plagued them. Rostford, her husband, responded often with clipped, biting words and offered little more than a stern glare for either Hazel or Ahmar. The man warmed considerably when his son, Halric, or his daughter, Tammy, spoke, and Hazel chalked it up less to blatant hostility and more protectiveness. If he and Gretchen were stuck among strangers then he too would be discourteous to those around him. That made suffering the man's rudeness far easier, knowing where it was born from.
No amount of understanding could make him and Ahmar friendly. They were polite, sure, but it was clear even to the children that it was little more than professional cordiality. Even people such as these, farmers far away from the cities, knew how tenuous the knights and Hunters working relationship was.
To the bystander looking in it would appear that those in the crown's employ - members of the royal guard and the Commandery itself - were antagonistic towards Hunters. Most assuredly it was mutual. Hunters oversaw the proliferation of magic as members of the Church while knights handled the common law. Hunters dealt with Grimm, as did knights who could battle the fell beasts, while knights operated as more akin to a common guard; patrolling, making arrests, and serving as the eyes and ears of local nobility, lords and ladies.
Their clear distinction should, in theory, prevent any discontent among parties, yet the truth could not be further from that.
While not an overwhelming majority in Hazel's experience there were people who despised the Hunters and shirked the Church's religious doctrine. Not this family. A bust of Edea rested upon the mantle, carved crudely from a piece of wood. Only the wreath cresting the woman's brow made the visage discernible, and it was not the only idol in the home either. A wreath hung on the inside of the door, and another bust presided over the central room as well. It made sense; Edea was the goddess of fertility, bountiful harvests, and matronly love. Whether or not the family actively practiced was another matter but clearly they regarded the goddess fondly.
Not everyone did. As cities had become more secure and peace settled over the kingdoms, by and large through the Church's own actions, people sought to entreat aid of the gods less and less. Ironically, it was the Church of Remnant itself who had turned people away from worship.
Aside from the Grimm then there was often little need for the Church's services. Cities remained a focal point of worship but many settlements no longer possessed a house of worship. As such, knights and the local town guard tended to command more authority, and in turn, more respect. People knew the names of their guard typically as they were members of the town itself. Meanwhile, Hunters came from the cities, trained typically in Vale itself, and were by and large strangers.
People, simply put, preferred the common guard or a knight as opposed to a Hunter. The latter always meant Grimm, and by association, strife for residents involved. There were plenty of reasons to loath Hunters, but Hazel couldn't offer those without violating multiple unspoken rules.
Guards and knights had Magi among them, although blessedly few. Even among those who did possess the talent fewer still had any that was useful for combat. Hunters, by comparison, all boasted magical prowess. A single Magi could defeat several Grimm with ease provided enough training. Barring the individual's fortitude, a trained Hunter then could defend a settlement against a dozen Grimm.
The kingdoms knew peace, sure, but Grimm remained a threat. Their monopoly on magic made the Church the foremost authority on its use as well as its primary enforcer. Both were necessary, but one far more appreciated than the other.
Which brought them back to the present. As the conversation ebbed and flowed around them Hazel noticed a pattern emerging; the children seemed far more enamored with him than Ahmar. Halric would often ask about his feats or beg for stories only to be gently reprimanded by his mother. Tammy, meanwhile, was more interested in whether or not he had found his 'lady friend' yet.
Tammy did not mean herself, Hazel hoped, but having a child ask about his marital status left his face hot and strained him for an answer.
"I am married to my duty, I'm afraid," Hazel answered with a smile.
"Well that's boring!" Tammy whined, sulking in her chair. "Knights get princesses, don't they?"
Maybe someday. Hazel entertained more questions; where did he train? Did he have any favorite towns? Could they meet his horse? The idle chatter was welcome and by the time their bowls were emptied and bellies full he found he had relaxed. His training refused to let him slouch in his seat but he felt it tipping back just slightly, shoulders slumped, while he watched the children race from the table with a bemused smile.
Ahmar, who had been silent for the final ten minutes of supper, watched them go with a slight smile, his lone eye tracking them out of the room. Despite having made himself affable at first the children eased themselves away from the man. Perhaps it was his face being obscured partially by the mask, or his dark clothing. Whatever it was neither Halric nor Tammy were keen to engage the Hunter in any conversation. Children had a peculiar sense for who and who was not a good person, Hazel thought. He'd like to think they'd picked well tonight.
Hazel attempted to help clean but was waved off by Alaine. "No guest of ours will work," she chided, smiling as she whisked away dishes.
Rostford was not nearly as reluctant. The man rose from his seat and wiped his hands on a soiled tunic. "You two can help with the animals in the morning. They'll need fresh feed and water. That, and we'll need to inspect the fences for damages." He sniffed, then eyed Hazel firmly. "Or are you too high and mighty for common work?"
"Husband, please," Alaine bemoaned.
"It should be our pleasure, I'd think. Consider it done." Ahmar rose from the table and smiled, haggard and weary suddenly. Thunder crashed outside and shook the house as rain continued to crash against the windowpanes, rattling in the wind. "I would like to go for a walk, but perhaps I'll linger here a bit longer. Do you mind if I light a fire in the next room?"
"So long as you replace the firewood," Rostford grunted. After placing a kiss on Alaine's cheek he stormed past them and headed to the bedroom, a gruff, bellowing laughter erupting from inside. Where Ahmar looked content to sulk Hazel brushed off the prickly behavior.
Sitting idle felt unappreciative, and so Hazel got to work instead. Alaine busied herself with dousing the greasy dishes in a bin of water, using a rough cloth to scrub bits of food away. Had he dry clothes to use for it he'd have offered to dry the bowls himself. Instead, Hazel went about gathering up scraps, piling them into a basket by the table. The vegetables would serve as food for the horses and cows, while the more unrecognizable slop would feed the pigs.
"Hm. Color me impressed." Hazel turned his head and frowned at Ahmar's patronizing smile. "A knight who does busywork. Isn't that what squires are for?"
"A man, no matter what his station, should be capable of this much," Hazel said. He offered a smile of his own, tilting his head towards Alaine. "Unless you mean to make our gracious hosts toil alone?"
The Hunter snorted, waving a hand as he turned away. "I'll work tomorrow, that should suffice. My thanks for the meal, good lady."
Hazel had half a mind to drag Ahmar back and make him work. It was more the principle of the matter than anything. If Aline did not find issue with it then he would refrain, albeit reluctantly. Sighing, he collected the slop bucket and moved towards the door, setting them beside it and rolling his stiff shoulders. Fire crackled behind him and he considered joining Ahmar by it, then shook his head and returned to the kitchen. Lightning flashed, washing the dim room in a pale light, reflecting off hanging utensils and casting long shadows across the floor. The other homes still stirred with activity if the candlelight was any indication, and Hazel moved closer to the window to watch, smiling as he saw children in the adjacent home running across windows, doubtless filling the home with chittering laughter.
"Sir knight? Hazel?" Alaine waved her hand and Hazel pulled himself away. "I have to apologize for my husband's behavior earlier. He's a good man, honest…"
"I've dealt with far worse than him," Hazel interrupted. "Please, it's no bother. After all, we are imposing, showing up unannounced as we are."
"Nothing happens by accident, sir. Edea brings all manner of surprises to our door, and this is no different." Alaine brushed fraying hair back and chuckled tiredly. "More pleasant than some others we've had, to be sure, but the gods operate in odd ways, don't they?"
Not a devout man himself Hazel could only smile politely and nod. "They certainly do. I suppose you could consider the trials as tests as your faith, and the blessings, rewards for it."
"A fine way of thinking. One I should hope more people would have." Children's laughter and squeals exploded from the bedroom and Hazel glanced to the shut door. "It's hard, living out here, but we appreciate the freedom. The children don't seem to mind either," Alaine said with a nod to the window. "Not when they have friends aplenty."
"You have been here long then?"
"The settlement has been here some fifty years. Rostford's family founded it." Alaine pulled herself a chair and sat, smiling as she traced grains on the table. "It's not as safe as Umbridge, but I've loved it out here. Been here for about ten years now." Hazel nodded, uncertain of what he could offer in reply. "It's difficult too, farming. We wake at the wee hours, toil all day, then see half of our work be shared with the others."
"They work too, don't they?"
"Of course! The Heather family tends to the animals, while the Vardens take care of the buildings. Those are our neighbors," Alaine explained. "Came from Alabaster some years ago. Lovely couple, both talented in carpentry. Their children are darlings too."
"Hm. It sounds like you have a nice life, the lot of you."
Alaine nodded, smiling as she smoothed wrinkles in her gown. "We give half of our crop to the lord, and with no guard nearby we rely on ourselves for protection, but it hasn't been so bad. Like I said, it's the freedom we love."
"Freedom that the Church would love to take away."
Hazel lowered his head and closed his eyes, mentally kicking himself. No was not the time nor place to be disparaging the Church. It certainly was not the place to be discussing the inner workings of it either. Luckily, any implications went well over Alaine's head, who merely smiled patiently at his remark.
"I should think they are no different than knights, good sir. Both of you fight to uphold the peace, do you not? The enemy may be different, but you both fight for our safety." Alaine looked to the common room, smiling through the wall. "Hunters can be rough, I'll admit, but they're every bit as important as a guard or knight."
"Forgive me. I didn't mean to sound rude."
As easily as discussing the weather Hazel's dissidence was waved off. "Please. It's not the first nor the last time I'll hear a man's pride color his words." Alaine laughed. "Don't worry, good knight. All I ask is that whatever business you have with the man, be it small or large, you leave it elsewhere. For the children."
As if anyone could willingly defy such a simple request. Civilians were intended to be kept out of harm's way, relegated to the sidelines while those who fought could. That did not change even if it meant the two sides - Church and Commandery - were to battle themselves. Hazel did not need to be asked twice, although he smiled and nodded for Alaine's benefit.
"You shall have no trouble from us, I assure you. It's nothing more than a bit of pride as you say. Men seeking to show up each other as it were."
"Well, you shall both have plenty of chances for that tomorrow! I would like to see which of you can clean a stall faster." She winked when Hazel grimaced, then pushed her chair in as she stood. "But that's tomorrow, and tonight I think I'll spend some time with my family. You two will be okay without us?"
Hazel chuckled. "It may be my pride speaking but I think I'll survive without you for one evening, my lady."
"See to it, sir knight. I think the children will want to hear more stories."
Oh, that he did not doubt for a second. It was normal, he supposed. Children had a romanticized view of the world even now. Grimm were often little more than a terrifying bedtime story, no different than the wolves and other beasts which roamed the countryside. Hazel smiled wistfully, recalling his own youth as he and Gretchen would huddle around a fire each evening, keen to hear their grandfather's terrifying tales. Bidding Alaine farewell with a wave he watched as she stopped to do the same for Ahmar, returning to the window to watch the storm rage on.
As startling as some stories could be, life was typically much harsher. Most tales ended with the hero saving the day, finding a princess, and riding happily off into the sunset. They usually left out the bleak realities; brave souls dying in battle; strong, capable warriors breaking in the face of insurmountable odds; men's pride and greed driving conflict more than the Grimm themselves.
Rain continued to pound against the windows. Wind hurled it sideways, and Hazel watched as a small container was torn away from a porch, tumbling haplessly across the ground, stopping abruptly as it caught in the mud.
Stories were fanciful, hopeful, and unrealistic. That also made them endlessly appealing to children and men both. Hazel's own view of the world had long turned dour. He knew the truth of things, or enough that he could never truly know peace. That did not mean he needed to deprive others of a warmer worldview, however. If the children wanted to believe all things ended well then who was he to refuse them?
Tomorrow he would set out come rain or shine. He would follow Ahmar and confront the man elsewhere, and if necessary, battle him.
Until then, however, he would work to pay back their kindness, and regale the children with tales of heroism and wonderment.
/+/+/+/+/+/
Dining room chairs were not conducive to restful slumber. While Ahmar had fallen asleep across one of the benches in the main room, removing his shirt and rolling it up as a pillow on the hard wood, Hazel opted to remain in the kitchen. Long after the fire died out and the air became chilled did he linger, slouching in one chair, feet put up on another. His clothing had dried for the most part and his stomach, now full, lulled him to sleep. Despite his trepidation about the other house guest fatigue won out, but not for long. Restlessness from the continued patter of rain, coupled by aches, spurned him from slumber.
The gentle slapping of feet across the floor kept him awake too. Forcing awake heavy eyelids he rubbed lingering sleep from them, grunting and swinging his feet from the chair. Creaking just as much as his impromptu bed Hazel stood, rolling his broad shoulders as he walked towards the front door. There, stood by one of the windows with her face pressed against cold glass, stood Tammy, oblivious to his presence until Hazel cleared his throat loudly.
The girl's shift from confusion to glee made Hazel smile, reminded of his dear sister. Sure, several years separated the two but Gretchen would forever remain his little sister, just as Tammy would forever be Halrics. To hear him call her such now would earn him a slap on the shoulder, or a punch, but that was just the way of things. One did not cease to be an older brother simply because both children had grown.
Lost in his musings Hazel nearly neglected to ask why the girl was awake. Casting a glance into the dim room to his left and finding Ahmar asleep, one arm hanging off the bench, he knelt on one knee beside Tammy and smiled.
"Woke to watch the storm, lass?" he whispered.
Tammy shook her head, smiling as she pointed to the window. "Nope!" she whispered back, giggling.
"Oh? What then?" Hazel asked. "Thinking of playing in the rain?"
"Mum would have a fit!" The small girl laughed again, then clamped her hands over her mouth, eyes wide. Hazel pressed a finger to his lips and she nodded, smiling brightly at her willing co-conspirator. "I'm watching!"
"Watching what?" Hazel leaned forward and peered out the window. Rain continued to fall albeit lighter than before, turning to a fine mist as the wind sliced through it. Too dark to see anything beyond the faint flickering of a lantern on the barn, Hazel narrowed his eyes, trying to strain and cut through the swathe of darkness.
Undeterred by the crackling of thunder outside, Tammy bounced on her toes and leaned against the sill. "The wolf! I saw it earlier!" Her eyes sparkled and she shook small fists excitedly.
"Wolf?" Hazel kept his unease from his tone as to not worry the girl. Smiling carefully, he placed a hand on her back and eased her from the window. "Are wolves common here, Tammy?"
"Oh, sure! Papa says they come a lot! Try to get the animals, but they're safe inside. They're like dogs, you know! Just a little meaner." A concerning flash of excitement appeared on Tammy's face. "I want one! A pet wolf would be amazing!"
Or a horrendously dangerous one. Hazel looked out the window again and failed to pick anything out of the shadows. Wordlessly, he patted the girl's back and rose to his feet with a grunt, retrieving his still damp boots from beside the door and wrestling them on.
"Where are you going, mister?"
"Stay inside will you? And try to be quiet." Hazel winked at Tammy, strapping his boot in place. "I'm going to go see the wolf, if he's still out there."
"You won't hurt him, will you?"
He would do much worse than that if given the chance. Hazel shook his head. "Not if he's a nice wolf. I just want to make sure the animals are okay. Can you promise me you'll be quiet?" The girl nodded, covering her mouth with both hands, eyes squinting with glee. Smiling warmly, he patted the girl's head and eased open the door. It creaked on its hinges and water dripped down from above, droplets running down his back and giving him a chill. Taking one parting glance at his small partner in crime he winked again, closed the door and stepped out.
Seeing anything was a fool's errand in this weather. The rain had eased but still fell strong, splattering against him rather than slicing as it had before. His boots were heavy with mud after only a few steps, threatening to remain stuck halfway to the barn. Raising one arm to shield his face, Hazel made a straight, hasty path for the doors, pausing briefly beside the building to catch his breath. The night air made his lungs sting, every breath bringing with it a pin pricking sensation, and trying as hard as he could to shake dry the water clung greedily to cloth and skin alike. With sight all but useless he attempted to listen instead for signs of any prowling predators. The wind struck the fields, causing stalks of wheat to rustle unceasingly, and nearby trees to creak and groan, swaying in the gales. Rain continued to fall against the tin roof, a sound not dissimilar to pebbles striking the underside of a carriage, plinking and rolling off in steady, thin waterfalls from the roof above.
Pulling himself from the relative dryness Hazel stalked around the front of the barn, wrestling the bar free of the doors and setting it aside. Dragging the door itself through the mud was arduous but he managed, parting it just enough to slip himself inside.
A summary glance showed no signs of infiltration, but to be sure he stepped further inside. With no light beyond the sparse rays of moonlight outside it was difficult to see much. Blindly fumbling about the entrance, he found a lantern, and beside it a striker, catching the wick and blinking as his eyes adjusted to the change in light. Holding the source aloft he made a slow pass through the barn, checking each stall for anything amiss. Animals slept peacefully in every one, undisturbed by the storm or his unwanted presence. His own horse woke as he approached, a lighter sleeper apparently, then upon recognizing who it was settled back down and closed its eyes again.
Had there been a wolf on the property it would have gone for the barn. Casting a glance back to the door Hazel half-hoped to see one slinking inside. Beyond the rain falling he could not see anything out of sorts, sighing as he lowered and extinguished the lantern's light.
"Wolves indeed…"
Maybe Tammy had imagined seeing something. Perhaps she'd had a dream and woken up thinking it real. Except the girl seemed certain, and Hazel knew better than to discount even the wildest claims. Setting the lantern by his feet he leaned into the stall housing his horse, fumbling blindly until he found his gauntlets. With nothing to wear beneath them the metal was unpleasant on his skin, but he had little choice.
Something moved outside of the barn. Hazel might not have noticed if not for the plume of hot, rancid air that wafted in through one of the windows. As he strapped a gauntlet in place he glanced up and caught what he thought was a black silhouette skulking just outside. Sooner than he could write it off as a trick of the mind he heard a low growl, another puff of rancid breath seeping through the windows.
Hazel kicked the lantern as he made a dash back for the door. He slipped through as quickly as he could, shoving it shut with his shoulder. His body trembled as he prepared, strapping his other gauntlet in place with clumsy fingers. Rounding the barn he stopped in shin high mud, balling his hands into fists and gritting his teeth.
The Beowolf took notice of him too, stopping mid stride and turning its head towards him. Red eyes bore into his own, dark purple tongue lolling out of its mouth and lapping at its jowls. Lightning flashed and he saw the full size of the beast, jagged, white bony spikes protruding from its body. An Alpha?! Hazel cursed, taking slow steps to try and place himself between the beast and the homes. Why is it here? No one has used magic!
With upsetting patience unbefitting of a mindless beast, the Beowolf stood its ground, motionless save for breathing, its hulking black frame rising and falling with shuddering breaths. Its muscles, rippling beneath thick black fur, appeared taut, as though fighting against restraints, or its instinct to rip him to shreds.
The how and why could wait. He needed to kill this beast before it could harm anyone, before -
A shrill scream stole his attention, coming from one of the other homes. Hazel turned and felt his very soul chilled. The Heather household had been the source, the agitator another Beowolf clawing down the front door. Another repeatedly rammed its full mass against the side of the home, crashing against wood and splintering it. On the furthest house another had somehow found itself onto the roof and stood tall, lifting its head and filling the night air with a chilling howl.
Hazel heard the Alpha before he could ready himself properly. His left arm lifted on sheer reflex and the creature's claw slammed into his forearm, absorbing the brunt of the impact. Hissing, he dug his foot into the ground and grabbed the Alpha's arm, twisting his body and lifting. Their roars mixed and he lifted the Grimm from its feet, throwing it away and flexing his gauntlet. A red Dust crystal sparked, and he rushed after the monster, grabbed its snapping jaws, and shoved his armored hand down its throat. Fire erupted from his palm and the Beowolf's limbs lashed out in a frenzy, claws catching Hazel's legs and scoring a few wounds. He held firm, dumping a hearth's worth of flame into the beast before letting it go. Its chest, long since burst from the heat, caved in and its body began to dissipate. Hazel tore off long before it fully vanished.
The Beowolf at the door was first. Using his not inconsiderable weight he threw himself fully at the monster, tackling it away just as it reached inside for someone. They struck the ground and Hazel tumbled off, rolling in the mud. Another Beowolf lunged at him and he activated his other gauntlet, grabbing mud and dragging it up. The earth followed suit and jagged stone erupted from the ground, catching the beast in the breast. Its snout hung inches above his head, noxious saliva dripping onto Hazel's face, and he pushed it away as he climbed to his feet.
Another was upon him in an instant. He ducked under swiping paws, bat aside another. Circling, he struck the Beowolf's ribs with a jab, rocked it with an uppercut, and took claws across his chest as it flailed. Feeling blood leaking from the wounds and mixing with chilled rain Hazel grit his teeth, shouting as he caught one of its arms. Another Beowolf swung from his back and he dragged the first in its path, watching as claws tore through the first, then reaching through the dying creature to grab the second. With its mouth clamped shut in one hand he dragged it down, arm going numb every time he delivered a punch to its skull. Growls turned into whimpers and he struck until the Grimm fell limp, dropping it and preparing for another.
Outside of Alaine's home, another Alpha had somehow managed to slip by unnoticed. Its sheer bulk couldn't fit beneath the porch when upright and so it dropped to all fours, snarling as he shattered the door with one swipe. He heard Tammy scream, and Hazel forced his legs to churn through the mud, chest burning as he raced to help. Tammy was dragged out, reaching back inside desperately for someone.
The Alpha raised its claw to strike and brought it down, and missed. Hazel watched its hand fly free at the elbow and the Grimm examined its own limb curiously before letting out a furious roar. Tammy screamed, and then the beast was knocked away. Hazel slowed as he watched the creature tumble, trying to rise again, then suddenly becoming airborne. Lightning flashed and Hazel saw something peculiar then; thin strands were connected to the beast, wrapping around it like a snake coiling around its prey. His eyes followed them indoors, and to his sheer surprise he watched Ahmar exit the home, arms extended, and fingers stretched out.
Still caught in the air the Alpha roared, wrestling against its bindings. With a flick of his wrist Ahmar relieved it of its hind left leg. A small twitch of his finger and several lacerations appeared on the Beowolf's torso.
Hazel watched, half in awe and half terror, as the Beowolf was shredded midair. Black flesh fell away and landed heavily in the mud, streams of black smoke pouring from it.
There was little time to appreciate the brutality. Another howl rose from nearby and Ahmar rushed into the storm, although not before ushering Tammy back inside. Another Beowolf rounded the corner of the barn just in time for its torso to fly free of its legs, the former tumbling towards the Hunter only to be sliced again in half.
Whatever their differences might be Hazel had to appreciate they shared a common enemy now. A quick look showed more Grimm arriving; Beowolves charging ahead, Creeps hot on their heels, their stubby legs churning through mud. To his utter dejection he saw a long, slender body coming closer as well, weaving its way through the corn while towering over it.
This cannot be a coincidence. He let his own magic run free, seeing little point in concealing it any longer. His chest began to mend as did the rest of his wounds, his body tingling with a rejuvenating energy. That will have to wait until later. Bastard.
A quick check of his Dust showed the crystals were still intact. The rest were in the barn, well out of reach, so with luck these would hold. As another rattling thunder strike caused the earth itself to tremble - or maybe it was the encroaching King Taijitu - Hazel flared both his gauntlets.
Keeping collateral damage to a minimum was a necessity. So too was being alive to make use of the land. To that end he rose two walls of stone, trapping three Beowolves inside, and punched the air, igniting it and sending a pillar of flame rocketing down the tunnel. Everything within was reduced to smoldering ash, black plumes of smoke mixing with the Grimm's dying essence.
Two more Beowolves rounded on him. One stopped abruptly, its limbs twisting with audible snaps, before it was lifted and thrown into the other, crushing both against the ground. Ahmar raced forward on two wires, gliding across the ground, slid beneath a Beowolf's claws and wrapped wire around its neck, swung himself around and kicked another in the throat, decapitating the first and shredding the second.
Rising from the wheat fields came the Taijitu, dual heads lifting and fangs glistening dangerously. Hazel and Ahmar shared a glance, nodded, and the latter went about crowd control. Using magic again to build strength and stamina Hazel charged, roaring as he cocked back a fist, meeting the lunging serpent head on and knocking one head back. He caught the fangs of the other, sliding back in the mud, and screamed as he pulled, forcing it down and driving a fist into its fleshy eye, grimacing as it exploded on impact.
Stories were nice, but stories often just that; they left out the more gruesome, unsavory aspects and sugar coated everything.
As Hazel struck repeatedly, pelted by rain and chilled to his very core, he would have given anything to be in one of them.
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The skies had looked clear upon their departure. With nothing but blue expanse behind them and a lonesome, seldom traveled road stretching out before them, Weiss and company had left Plockton, assuming they would make reasonable time before making camp for the evening. For a while they had, marching in a close-knit cluster, the only souls meandering along the dusty road. As Plockton receded into the distance, becoming obscured by towering elms, gnarled oaks, and pines slathered in their own sap, the sounds of the Branwen's manic celebrations became replaced with those of nature. Grass hissed as wind caressed it, leaves rustling and trembling. A woodpecker worked tirelessly nearby to capture its meal and Weiss swore she heard it for a mile or more. Wrens trilled in the treetops, their singsong voices disturbed by the occasional cry of a peregrine falcon, its shadow an ominous call to the birds nestled among the trees.
Weiss took comfort in nature. She knew that their business with Ozpin and his peers was not finished. She understood intimately that her mark could trigger at any moment. Qrow was present and could quell any sudden attacks on her part but she still worried. The sounds of nature did a splendid job then to pull her thoughts away from all that they were leaving behind, and the unknown to which they were walking towards.
Wind kicked up and a white cloud drifted above their heads. Dandelion seeds bounced on the breeze, tumbling aimlessly before vanishing on the opposite side of the road. Blake sneezed, drawing her scarf up over her mouth again, and Weiss smiled while Yang began questioning their friend about potential allergies.
"I'm not going to do anything with it, Blake!" Yang insisted, smiling as she folded her hands together. "I just wanna know, just in case."
"I'm allergic to nosy blondes," Blake said.
"Wait, you are? Me too!" Yang laughed, stepping closer and bumping her hip into Blake's. The latter almost toppled over, and Yang gasped, smiling apologetically while Blake righted herself. "Heh, my bad!"
That dynamic duo took up the rear of their procession. Just ahead of Weiss herself, smack in the middle, were Qrow and Ruby at the forefront. Whatever their conversation might have been - they spoke low enough that Weiss could not make it out - it seemed important. Ruby spoked animatedly, sweeping her arms and using her hands to gesture, most of which were lost on Qrow and Weiss both. Qrow, meanwhile, seemed to keep his responses short and simple. Maybe it was nothing to concern herself. Just idle conversation between niece and uncle. Yet Ruby's eyes drifted her way more than once and try as she might to ignore it Weiss met it evert tune. Did she want to know what they were discussing? Not really.
An old stone bridges long forgotten by those who built it spanned the river ahead of them. A grey, bleak slab flanked by fields of tall grass, made darker still by the shade of nearby trees, Weiss thought it might crumble the moment they set foot on it.
It did not. Water below smashed against the supports, kicking up and throwing a fine mist into the air that tickled their skin. Moss and lichen crept up the sides, billowy tufts of it clumping together along the walls. Ruby darted to one side to peer over and gestured excitedly. A family of deer drank from the banks below, a stag easily Qrow's height and thrice his size watching over them. Wading through reeds they moved upriver, uncaring of the newcomers' presence. They did catch the attention of the stag however, its ears flicking as it examined them thoughtfully.
When the sky trembled suddenly the family bolted upstream, cutting up a gentle slope and vanishing into a wall of dark spruces. Weiss grimaced seeing the dark clouds to the east slowly rolling across the fields. Lightning flickered within them, and beside her she heard Qrow let out a frustrated groan.
"Come on. We gotta find somewhere to hunker down," he instructed, taking the lead and waving them along. "Unless you all want to get soaked?"
No one did, and with Qrow taking the lead they continued.
The tranquility of the forest was interrupted by the occasional crash of thunder, and with renewed haste they cut their way down the road, having to detour into the woods on occasion to bypass a fallen tree. The denser the forests became the darker the sky grew, or perhaps that had been the trees growing more tightly packed. Here, the road barely existed any longer as sizable pits formed, loose ground eroded away by rainfall. Other spots had become overgrown. A lovely violet rhododendron claimed half the road, flowers filling the air with a sickly sweetness. Bees milled about it, working tirelessly to give it life to the forest around it. Weiss gave them a wide berth.
The air grew colder and damp, the explosions above growing louder, crawling ever closer. When the first raindrops fell, dripping off leaves with a light patter, they had been forced to abandon the road entirely. With trees in every direction and no shelter in sight they settled for what they could find. A fallen pine tree angled against a hillside afforded some cover from the rain, and from their packs provided courtesy of Raven's tribe they withdrew blankets woven from otterskin. Rather than adorn them however they placed them among the fallen tree's branches, forming as good a roof as they could hope. By the time they finished the rain had begun to fall in earnest, drenching the forest in a deluge and turning the already dim surroundings inky. Trees provided some shelter from the wind and the canopies around them mitigated rainfall, but it was clear they were through traveling unless they wanted to risk becoming sodden.
From there they made camp. Breaking off a select few branches, careful not to compromise their shelter, Qrow managed to build a sizable campfire for them. Taking from each of their packs they scrounge together a makeshift meal. Salted beef, a few potatoes and leeks. Lambsquarter, freshly picked earlier on their trek, added a little more color. A rusty pan served as their only utensil, and without serving dishes they had to use whatever was handy to eat on.
The beef was greasy, slightly overcooked and still pink in the center. Despite Blake's best efforts - they had let her cook since she was more familiar with lambsquarter - the greenery had been overcooked and chewy. The meal was warm however and filling. When traveling as lightly as they were you could not afford to be picky. Weiss' stomach was full, and while she needed to wipe her hands off on her trousers repeatedly she was pleased by the meal.
Rain continued to fall. The wind, perhaps taking pity on them, pushed it at an angle and sent most of the drops crashing into their makeshift shelter. Watertight it was not and droplets leaked through, the ground at their feet becoming damp. Weiss drew her legs up, for once grateful to be shorter, finding it easy to become relatively comfortable.
There would be little else to do for them that evening. As the night wore on the rain continued to hamper them, the sudden freak storm wreaking havoc on the forest around them. Trees creaked in the wind, puddles forming in the fertile ground, spilling down the hillside and running away from them thanks to a small trench Qrow had the foresight to dig.
Wind brought with it a chill. The fire tried its best to provide warmth but harried by the wind and rain both it went out before long, and subsequent attempts to relight it proved futile.
Qrow appeared fine, accustomed no doubt to rough conditions on the road. Yang, naturally warmer thanks to her magic, had little issue with keeping warm. Weiss felt envious watching Blake slid against Yang, cuddling into her side for warmth.
She was not without warmth of her own. Ruby smiled beside her, pale cheeks tinted pink as she drew open her cloak. Weiss felt her own cheeks follow suit, eyes lingering on Ruby's lips before forcing herself to look at the red fabric. With silent acceptance she shimmied closer and leaned against Ruby's side, breathing in the calming scent clinging to the cloak. Fatigue had begun to catch on and her eyes struggled to remain open now that she had found a modicum of warmth. Even as her head laid on Ruby's shoulder, feeling Ruby's cheek resting upon her hair, she couldn't keep herself awake.
At some point she drifted off to the sounds of rain falling and the rhythmic breathing of Ruby. Her hand, chilled from the weather, found its way into one warmer, a lazy smile on Weiss' sleeping face.
Come morning she would probably be a nervous mess but right now she couldn't care less. That was future Weiss' problem. Present Weiss, sound asleep against her partner, her friend, her… Whatever they were now, was content to remain as she was.
I have this coming week off work so maybe, and emphasis on maybe, it will only be a week gap between chapters rather than two. We'll see though; it depends on how the week pans out.
Regardless, see you all next chapter, and thank you so much as ever for reading! Stay safe, everyone!