Chapter 6 (Stan Crow)

Perfect aim or not, Patience resented the inevitable assignment as any team's sniper. Granted, she'd only been on one other team. Sitting alone on a tree branch while actually aiming to kill wasn't so bad—certainly less dangerous than anything she'd dealt with in the city. It was the endless hours of waiting that drove her insane. She cycled Patricius for the umpteenth time, flicking it from sniper crossbow mode to trident with barely a wave.

Boring.

Hope had tried to cover Everest's embarrassing scene in the dorm room with a hasty suggestion to "train really hard" ahead of the tournament, and so they'd spent the last three afternoons in the Emerald Forest hunting for Grimm that were nowhere to be found. It didn't help that Hope seemed to know nothing about hunting the creatures. They weren't even in the right spot. When Patience had tried to explain the problem, Hope had just asked her to "trust me."

So boring.

Glancing at the ground, the soft grass of the nearby clearing called to her. A quick nap to pass the time, and then she could resume pretending to be a sniper. "Why not?" she said to no one. If they hadn't seen any Grimm in this long, why should they show up now?

She scooted to the edge of the branch and leapt, head first, for the ground. A second into the fall, a faint snap pricked her ear. Instinctively, she rammed Patricius' tines into the tree and clutched the shaft, letting her momentum swing her vertical again. Yanking Patricius free at the last instant she sailed directly back to her former perch, dropping flat against the bark.

There. The sound came again, only closer and louder. Gauging the distance, she figured that whatever it was was probably less than a quarter klick out from her position and moving fast. Cycling her trident back into sniper mode, she peered through the scope. It took several long moments, but at last she caught a flicker of movement through the dense tree cover. A flash of black and white dodged between a pair of oaks follow by several similar figures. Her gut told her they were Grimm.

Now we're talking. Looks like the little girl got lucky with her guess this time.

Patience auto-loaded a bolt from her clip and adjusted her sights for the distance the rangefinder called. Relatively close range for her, but a moving target with plenty of hard cover. It would be a fun challenge. Her muscles relaxed and she habitually regulated her breathing to keep her aim true. All that was left to do was wait.

Sure enough, a group of Ursas broke from the tree line and into the small clearing, pausing to sniff the air. She lined up her first shot, but a glimmer of light through her scope blinded her momentarily. Shaking her head and blinking through the daze, she tracked her sights around looking for the source. Patience found it almost at once, and her stomach twisted.

Clad in crimson leathers with orange accents, a dark-haired boy waited behind the Ursas, a wicked-looking cat-o-nine tails in his right hand, a small mirror in his left flashing beneath the razor sharp claws he wore. While keeping an eye on the Grimm, he flicked the mirror several times in rapid succession, clearly signaling someone. Patience knew that signal. She knew every signal used by the boy and his teammates.

After all, she had been part of Team DSPR since shortly after her first time in this forest.

"Randolph, you idiot, put away the mirror," she muttered. She lined her crosshairs up over his the part of his forehead visible between branches, barely resisting the temptation to squeeze off a round. She couldn't believe she'd bothered to give this guy what he wanted those first few nights. She'd quickly learned he hadn't been worth playing; he was a raging ball of anger and hormones, not the slightest bit useful unless she needed wanton destruction. And that just wasn't her style.

What was Team DSPR doing here? Dee Jake de Jude, her old team lead, had said the team was going to confine itself to Ever Fall, since most of the other teams favoured Emerald. Grimm hunting was actually better in Ever Fall, and the general lack of truly sizeable Grimm gave Dee Jake an artificial sense of accomplishment—it was easier to tally kills when the critters were smaller. Patience had made more than a few jokes about "size" and "compensation" at his expense because of that. Dee Jake hadn't actually cried in front of her, but she heard his sobs at night and that was enough.

Still, if DSPR were here, something was afoot—something had changed in the seventy-two hours since she'd been taken off their roster. And Patience, being Patience, fully intended to find out.

Sweeping her scope about for another minute, she looked for any signs of the rest of the team. She caught sight of Randolph's combat partner, Pytor Falconi, his hulking form bulling through the brush as he worked to catch up. The Ursas turned to stare at the pair as they entered the clearing, but made no move to attack. In fact, the boys stood unmolested in the midst of the monsters. Patience watched Randolph make some elaborate hand motions, and suddenly the Grimm burst into action, the whole group charging further into the forest.

Almost as though obeying an unspoken command from Randolph.

Patience narrowed her eyes and looked up from her scope. The boys were following the Ursas now. No—not following. Directing.

Patience slung Patricius and sprinted along the branch she had perched on. Leaping from there to the branch of another tree, she set out in pursuit. Team DSPR might not be the brightest set of candles, but she knew exactly how mischievous they were. After all, she'd taught them well.

Now it was up to her to stop them.