Welcome to the beginning of the end... of the prologue/first arc of A Hunter or Something. Enjoy!
Writer: Coeur al'Aran
Director: College Fool
Chapter 5
It was a dark, if not particularly dreary, night in Vale as most of the Kingdom slept. Not surprisingly, that applied to most of its most earnest protectors too. The students and staff of Beacon Academy, almost all returned from the traditional summer break, slept soundly in their dry beds and warm rooms, almost all having pleasant or at least unbothered dreams. Almost all, for there were a precious few who had no dreams at all, who were not even sleeping, and if one were to look carefully at Beacon's central tower from afar then one might – might - have seen a small light lit from the highest level of the tallest tower.
Headmaster Ozpin was still awake, and still at work.
It might have seemed a familiar scene to those more trusted to wander the restricted parts of Beacon late at night. The Headmaster, still dressed in his typical attire, bent over a desk filled with papers. Some had signatures, many more did not, and reams of paper stood stacked and awaiting inspection. Almost absently the elderly man signed yet another form with one hand and took a sip from a mug with the other, head cocked to one side as he read in the dim light of his desk lamp. Maybe even he was drifting off. More likely he was waiting for any sound from a small intercom on his desk. Regardless, rather than bright lights only a small modest lamp lit the room as the highest man in the highest tower of Vale awaited the first signs of what the new semester would bring.
"Still no word?"
The Headmaster of Beacon Academy did not jump, did not startle, and did not spill the contents of his mug mid-sip. Maybe he was surprised, or maybe he had heard if not felt the presence approach. The soft beat of wings, the change in the movement of air coming through an open window, or maybe some other sign. It was almost a game of theirs, a game that always went the same way. Rather than react the Headmaster took his sip, held onto the sensation… and then released an almost satisfied breath. Only then did he speak, as calm as if his guest had walked through the door like any normal person and wasn't leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and his face crosser.
"No news is good news, or so they say."
His guest frowned. "Or it can be the worst news. No one to call for help if everyone's dead. Weren't they supposed to find him today?"
"Yesterday, you mean?" Ozpin said with a half-smile. It had been a long night. "It was possible, but not necessarily guaranteed. The weather front moved in sooner than we expected. If they did not find him yesterday, they should today, and will still be able reach the evacuation zone before the worst of the monsoon hits. They're still within schedule, Qrow."
'Uncle' Qrow was un-mollified. "You don't know that," he snapped. "You're taking that on faith. This isn't a picnic, Oz, or some stroll through the backwoods of Patch. I know that frontier. That's the Grimmlands in all but name, and you let my girls-!"
"Your girls," Ozpin interrupted with a calm his ally lacked, "are also my students, and promising young Huntresses in their own right. If I did not believe they could accomplish this mission, I would not have given them permission to go when they asked. The same applies to Team CRDL, who too have the potential to be true Huntsmen." He took another sip, a pause that all but forced calmness in the air. "They are in danger, yes, but danger is the price we must be willing to accept as Huntsmen. If I have faith, it is because I know you and others trained them as best you could for everything you thought they needed. And if I let them go out with the hope of saving their friend, it's because hope-"
"-is our most powerful weapon against the Grimm, I know," Qrow finished for him, still frowning. "Don't try and pull that one on me, Oz," he warned. "If good feelings and a lack of fear were all it took, we wouldn't be needed, but we are so it isn't. Training isn't enough to be a Huntress, you need more than that. You need experience, the sort of wisdom that knows when it's best to go fast to get through trouble or when it's better to go slow to avoid it altogether. My nieces are many things, but afraid to run towards trouble if they think it'll help someone isn't one of them. Especially if it's for friends or family. You should know that as well as anyone, if what you said about the docks is true."
A beat. No response. Ozpin was reading through yet another document of some sort.
"You know as well as I do that they aren't ready. You should have sent someone else with them at the very least, someone who could reign them in or at least give them direction."
"I did. The guides were found for a reason."
A scoff. "Not some random civilian volunteer. I mean someone they would listen to, someone they'd respect, or at least someone they'd fear enough to listen to. Like Glynda." He narrowed his eyes. "You should have sent Glynda."
There was an honest sigh as Ozpin lowered his document down.
"I couldn't. The Council insists she stay in the city and patrol the streets at night." A hint of frustration arose, and not just in sympathy for Miss Goodwitch's many late nights. "The near-miss with Torchwick gave them hope it could happen again. The White Fang at the docks have made them even more desperate. It's all I can do to keep them from asking her to leave her post at Beacon to patrol the city full-time."
Not that she would, of course. Beacon would have to fall before Glynda Goodwitch would willingly serve the Council. But even if it was a fight he could win, at least in the short term, it wasn't a battle worth fighting. Not if he could avoid it, and especially against a foe he couldn't simply destroy. There are some things - many things - even a Beacon Headmaster prefers to avoid rather than fight head on
"Fine. Not Glynda, then," Qrow conceded, willing to believe the worst of the Council. "Someone else then. Any Huntress would do."
"I tried. Your sister laughed." Ozpin waved a hand. "The usual reasons."
Qrow looked unhappy, for multiple reasons. "That's it? That's all you tried?"
"Of course not. I tried you but wasn't able to reach you in time," Ozpin answered, even as he pulled one page closer to the desk and pulled out a pen. "Between the monsoon and the time he's been missing, we couldn't afford to wait."
"You're telling me no one else was available, then?" Qrow challenged. "Everyone else had better things to do?"
"Yes, actually," Ozpin answered neutrally as he signed the form in front of him. He sounded remarkably normal. "'Better' is a matter of opinion, of course, but it is summer. You know what that means for us."
Qrow let out a 'tch,' but didn't deny it.
Once upon a time not too long ago, Valean summers weren't a time for idle beaches or fancy vacations. Summer was the time children across the Kingdom laboured to bring in the summer harvest, and helped plant the last wave of crops before the fall. It was a hard life, not a pleasant struggle, and Qrow could remember members of his less reputable family looking down on the peasants and feeling superior that it wasn't them toiling in the farm fields to bring in nature's bounty.
That was the rub though, wasn't it? Farm fields and nature's bounty. By the nature of it, you wouldn't find either behind the Kingdom walls, but Kingdoms needed the food they provided. Food meant farms and hunting outside the Kingdom walls. Out on the near-frontier - but not too far, lest the harvest spoil before it get to market - settlements dedicated to nothing else existed, marking the boundary between the Human kingdoms and the Grimmlands. But the Grimmlands meant Grimm, and Grimm meant death for all but the strongest fighters and the fastest fleers.
Neither of which could be expected from the farmers working the land far from the safety of the city walls.
Much had changed since then. The rise of dust automation, farm machinery, and changing norms had largely rendered children unneeded for such mundane work. Most cheered the Council's edicts on child labour, enforced with the short arm of the Kingdom's laws, and some saw even more changes in the future. Dreams of fully automated farms ignored by Grimm and tended by dust-powered robots, feeding entire Kingdoms and negating the need for a frontier. But those visions were a long ways away, and even if children no longer worked the fields near Vale a great deal of older people still did.
Summer, in other words, was still the Huntsman busy season. The time when Huntsman were in the highest demand and Huntresses needed the most, not to help bring in the harvest but to protect those who did.
In all honesty, their mere presence did almost as much good as their fighting, and their absence a self-fulfilling prophecy. Protected farmers were happy farmers, all the safer for believing that they would be safe if dreaded enemies dared attack. Abandoned farmers were the opposite, aware of their vulnerability to monsters or malign men and nervously watching a darkness quite willing to vindicate such fears. Abandoned farmers could quite easily be dead farmers, or abandon their farms and leave their fields fallow. You could never really avoid that - there were never enough Huntsmen or Huntresses for all the farms, especially those far from Vale - and leaving some land fallow might help the harvest next time. But fallow farmland didn't feed anyone this year, and if enough farms were abandoned there might even be a famine. A kingdom without food but full of empty bellies…
The Kingdoms - the surviving Kingdoms, at least - went to great lengths to avoid that.
Qrow closed his eyes and leaned back, head up with a pained expression on his face. He took a deep breath, a pained expression on his face, before letting it go. When he looked at Ozpin again, it was with less anger-worry and more beseeching.
"You couldn't delay."
"After the Golden Seventy-Two hours is the monsoon. You know as well as I do the chances of any Huntsman surviving much longer out there."
"And you couldn't pay to lure in some better Huntsmen."
"The school doesn't have the budget to hire mercenary Huntsmen. We're lucky enough that we were able to arrange bullhead transport on such short notice. SDC will no doubt want something someday for their generosity in refitting the bullheads for the long-range expedition." Ozpin sighed. "I'll consider the debt worth it for the safe return of a student, but we're not exactly floating in assets."
"You couldn't even send someone from the faculty? Not even Glynda, just… anyone?"
Here Ozpin paused, his mouth a thin line, before his pen moved again on another page.
"Chess is a metaphor, not a literalism. If I simply told people what to do and could expect them to obey without question, they wouldn't be Huntsmen. Not good ones, anyways."
Qrow didn't disagree, but didn't say anything else either. Ozpin sighed.
"They're teachers, Qrow, not pawns. They already have a full-time job, and that job includes preparing to teach the next generation of Huntsmen over the next semester. Every day they don't - every day they miss in class or even in preparing - is hundreds of students who receive worse education, or no lessons at all. Lessons that could one day save their lives if they pay attention."
Ozpin shook his head, and for the first time looked Qrow straight in the eye.
"My teachers are faculty, not free agents for a rescue force. Field trips aside, that's what they had to accept when they took this job - that they would be teaching students how to save others, rather than doing so themselves. If I sent them out every time there was someone needing rescue, I'd never have anyone to teach classes."
Ozpin smiled, but it was a bitter one, and not caused by coffee. "And even if they were free agents for hire, I'm not sure I could afford them," he admitted. "I have to settle for those available and willing to work for free. Unfortunately, not everyone shares your and your sister's sense of altruism."
Qrow sighed and closed his eyes, shaking his head and reaching for a flask. "No, you have to settle for people who just care about friends and family."
"Team CRDL is neither."
Qrow paused at that, opening one eyes to look at Ozpin. Ozpin… looked damnably mysterious, stating a simple fact without any hint as to what he was thinking. Though maybe, if Qrow had to guess, the Headmaster looked pleased in some slight way.
It was almost exhausting. Or maybe it was. Qrow looked at his flask, contemplating the merits of drinking. It was a bit late to start now - or maybe a bit early? Either way, the late night Qrow hadn't gone to sleep for either just seemed more exhausting. There was one last question he had to ask, though, even as he loathed the expected answer.
"And the other students? Or even a team of upper years?"
"Most were scattered for the summer or were taking their own missions. One tried, but couldn't get back before the main expedition left. Obviously, Mr Lie's team was too compromised to be part of the search and rescue. As for the rest…" This time, Ozpin did frown.
"Lie Ren is hardly well known or well-loved across the student body. I imagine most students 'had better things to do' with the last of their summer than spend it searching the woods for someone they never spoke to." He paused. "I suspect some of the Huntresses I contacted had similar thoughts as well." Be it protecting the families of others, or spending time with their own, or even things more important than one's very own daughter.
Qrow ceased resistance and knocked back his flask with a sudden swig. He kept it up long enough for multiple gulps, or to cover several choice words. When he lowered it, his eyes burned as much as his throat.
"I hate us sometimes, Oz," he admitted. "People. Huntsmen. Sometimes we have the shittiest reasons for what we do, and what we don't ," he said, before wearily blinking and looking around, as if checking for any impressionable young ears.
"It's what makes us human, faunus included," Ozpin returned calmly, not refuting the accusation. "Not everyone does the right thing for the right reasons. I suspect most of us don't, even if we could agree on what those right reasons are. At best we have valid reasons for doing what we already want to do. What's important, though…" He trailed off, looking in the distance. "What's important is that most people try to do good, whatever their reasons or misconceptions. That's what makes us different from monsters." He shared a tired smile with his ally. "That's what I hope, anyway."
"Hope, huh," Qrow repeated, scoffing but not necessarily dismissing. "And you really couldn't afford to send anyone else who?"
"Not at a cost I was willing to pay." Not at costs that weren't just monetary, or a trading of favours, but the opportunity costs of compelling Huntsmen to give up tasks they were already assigned. Tasks that were important in their own right. It was the very human costs of leaving frontier farms unguarded, students un-taught, or other vital tasks undone – all the consequences that might have come from such hasty decisions.
"Lie Ren understood the risks when he volunteered."
"Of course he did," Qrow scoffed again. "Because kids these days finally know their own mortality." He barked a laugh, bitter as it was, and shook his head. "No wonder hope is our greatest weapon against the Grimm. It's free, and kids have plenty of it."
Ozpin said nothing - could say nothing - and Qrow's next shake of his head was simply one of resignation.
"Here," Qrow said, pulling something out of his clothes and tossing it over. A scroll - paper, not machine - fell onto Ozpin's desk with a soft thud. "It's what you asked for. The reason I couldn't make it in time. I hope it's worth it, Oz," he said.
"It will be," Ozpin said, taking the paper and unrolling it, revealing numbers and a list of names. He looked up at Qrow, who looked uncomfortable. "Is this everyone?"
"I counted every one of those bastards I could, and the names of a few more I overheard about. They were about as happy to see me as you would expect." Qrow sighed. "I hate family reunions."
"Only you could have done this, Qrow," Ozpin reminded, though technically it should have been 'would.' "And this is helpful. Every village needs food, after all." Even clans of murderers who looked down on the farmers producing it.
Some clans resorted to banditry to get what they wanted, but if they didn't have to - if arrangements of food could be made otherwise with the Kingdom - then they wouldn't feel forced to practice their craft to take what they needed to survive. But to know actual numbers - to know how much was needed, factoring in the needs of the surrounding settlements, and collecting the reports of the initial summer harvest to base expectations all across the dangerous frontier…
"Damn census duty," Qrow muttered, taking a drink.
It was funny what real Huntsmen did for the sake and safety of the Kingdoms.
"I'll put it to good use," Ozpin promised, before the first glimmers of morning twilight rose from the east. Being the man in the highest tower of all of Beacon, or Vale, had its perks. One of those was the earliest sunrise and being the first to see the day to come.
The intercom on Ozpin's desk squawked, bring both men to attention.
"Headmaster Ozpin?" his secretary who - bless her soul - had taken the night shift as well just in case a message needed to be relayed.
"Yes, Miss Melody?" Ozpin answered politely after he hit the intercom switch on his desk. Once he was done, he hit the switch again so he could receive her.
"There's been a call from SDC about Mine SDM703. Would you like the good news or the bad news first?" That was her game, and always had been. To let people pick their poison, or the order, as fit their mood.
Ozpin traded a look with Qrow. "Schnee Dust Mine 703," he explained. "I believe the locals call the village `Edge`, not that the Schnee care for that."
"Obviously," Qrow said, rolling his eyes.
"Give me the good news first, please," Ozpin requested.
"A small business owner represented by SDC has filed an insurance claim against us, sir," his secretary said. "Apparently an unidentified huntress destroyed some private property."
"And that's good news how?" Qrow asked from the side, revealing his presence in the conversation.
"Is that Mr Branwen? Of course it is, who else could be up there?" Miss Melody asked, seemingly unsurprised but by no means pleased at the eavesdropper. "It is good news because there are no witnesses to testify against us. We could probably fight this off in court, sir, but SDC is willing to settle for a very reasonable amount to cover the property damages. If we settled out of court, we could even avoid an impact to our student insurance premiums." She sounded almost happy at that, as well she might. Melody had always been a glass half-full sort of person. She wasn't wrong either, because the alternatives could be timely and costly. Not for the mysterious Huntress responsible, mind you, but for the lawyers and litigants who typically fought these insurance battles in the courts while students were in school or off saving the day.
Still, no witnesses? Then how did they even know it was a Huntress in the first place?
It wasn't really a surprise. Even without the challenge overcoming the typical benefit of the doubt given to the Heroes of Remnant, not many civilians were brave enough to publicly accuse a Huntress of, well, just about anything. Not when a truly immoral Huntsman of even modest competence could easily do much worse in revenge, especially outside the reach of the short arm of the law. The Kingdom's justice systems were what they were because they rarely had much reach beyond the Kingdom walls, and that was without the other possible consequences of taking your protectors to court.
Not many villages could keep a Huntsman around if they got a reputation for suing them. Between a little leeway now or not having any Huntresses around when the Grimm attack later, the choice was obvious.
Ozpin looked at Qrow, and Qrow looked back. 'I'll talk to her,' Qrow mouthed, and Ozpin nodded, leaving it at that.
There was not a doubt between either of them as to who was responsible.
"Alright, Miss Melody," Ozpin said, turning back to the intercom and bracing himself for the rest. "What's the bad news?"
There was a pause, and her hesitance - the hesitance of a secretary who had been with Ozpin as long as anyone, who even Qrow remembered from when he was a student at Beacon and so who had seen so many things - was palpable.
"Another distress beacon was triggered earlier this morning, sir," Melody informed. "The recovery team has already launched for an emergency evac, but it will still be another several hours until they arrive."
Until they arrived. It would be hours after the situation was already so dire that the call for help was sent in the first place, and then another several more for them to return. The Golden 72 was for when people were lost, but when people - or at least normal people - were hurt enough to warrant calling in emergency assistance…
Ozpin took off his glasses and pinched his nose, even as he tapped the response button once again.
"Team CRDL?" he guessed. Every team had its own unique beacon.
"No sir," Melody denied. "Team RWBY."
Qrow's hands clenched. Ozpin spoke for him.
"Injuries?" A beacon - a modern one, at least - could signal that too.
"Yes, sir."
Qrow held his breath. Ozpin asked what he could not.
"How bad?" Ambulatory, which you could walk off? Crippling, which you couldn't? Life-threatening, where you never would again?
"Severe, sir," Melody said. "That's all it said before the source cut off. I'm sorry."
Qrow whipped around, making for the window he'd come in from. "I'm going," he said, as simple as that. No argument. "Tell Tai I'll be there."
Then he jumped, and was gone to the sound of beating wings. As the air in the room flowed out, Ozpin sighed, took a breath, and leaned forward and keyed his intercom again. Qrow would not make it in time even had he flown the entire way, a reason why Ozpin had been awake late at night and not there in person himself.
Among other things, of course.
"Miss Melody," he began, "please find the soonest flight to the frontier that you can for Mr Branwen. Charge it to my personal account, please." Professional Huntsmen were expensive, but a bullhead ticket? That was cheap by comparison.
"Yes sir," his trusted secretary acknowledged, before the line cut off again. Not five minutes later, she called him back.
"It's done, sir, but…" she began.
"Is that Ozpin? Tell him I'm still waiting to speak with him," a female voice interrupted in the background, before Melody no doubt turned off the speaker.
"Melody?" Ozpin asked. His secretary soon called him back.
"Headmaster Ozpin? Mrs Arc is here to speak with you. Again. Shall I tell her you're still in your meeting?"
After a pause, Ozpin keyed the mike.
"No need for that," a gravelly voice loudly said behind him, sending Ozpin into a frantic grab for his cane by reflex alone. Ozpin whirled, and despite the feeling of absence easily spotted the man perched on his window sill. It wasn't clear how tall he was all hunched over like that, but it was clear he wasn't armed. Though there were some things wrapped around his shoulder, including a rope, both hands were clearly visible and holding onto the window sill beneath him, like a big cat ready to pounce.
Behind him the rising sun lit dirty-blonde hair, but in the dim morning light did nothing to hide the sharp blue eyes watched him with an intensity that made even Ozpin's aura stir, albeit too late to serve as a warning.
"The other guy just left. Headmaster's free, Maria," his watcher called loud enough to be heard through the intercom.
Because Ozpin had not yet turned off his end of the intercom bridge, Melody's response could not be heard. To keep her from fearing the worst - or worse, trying to return to a line of work she'd rightfully retired from long ago - Ozpin spoke up as well. "It's alright, Melody. You can send her up." Then he keyed the intercom off, and turned entirely towards his patiently waiting visitor.
"Hope you don't mind me letting myself in," his guest mused, still watched him intently as a hawk, "but I saw the other guy do it and figured you have an open-window policy or something. If he can come in this way, I can too, right? Fair's fair, after all."
Ozpin's eyes narrowed and he looked far less welcoming than he'd sounded on the intercom a moment ago.
"How long were you listening?" he asked, demanding explanation. The man didn't seem intimidated.
"Long enough to know I like that other guy," the perched man said, still intently focused. "It's rare to find someone who's not too uptight to drink in school. It's nice to see someone up here who keep less than sanctimonious company. And I can really appreciate a guy who not only cares for his family, but is willing to race off at the drop of a hat and do whatever it takes for a niece who might be in over her head."
Blue eyes sharpened into a glare, and the intense pressure hardened as the blonde-haired man leaned forward.
"It kind of reminds me of myself, Huntsman," the eagle-eyed man all but snarled.
The Nevermore taking off at the Emerald Forest beneath the cliffs of Beacon were probably a coincidence.
Ozpin wasn't affected. Or at least, he didn't let himself be affected. But with the man at the window in front of him, and the woman in the elevator quickly rising behind him, he knew even his patience would be tried soon enough. He couldn't even defenestrate himself after Qrow now either.
As the sun rose before him, and the chime of the elevator signalling the door opening behind him, Headmaster Ozpin of Beacon Academy took a breath and prepared himself for another glorious day in Remnant.
/-/
Team CRDL burst out of the tree line wide-eyed and a mess. It didn't matter that dawn was breaking. The daylight just made it easier to see how bloodied they all were. Their clothing was covered in grime and blood, their faces too, and even their eyes were bloodshot from lack of rest and constant fighting, not to mention the alertness and panic as they rushed through the forest ever-aware of the potential of an ambush.
It had taken a lot out of them. Too much.
Russel was swaying on his feet. Dove joined him, leaning against him for support as much as anything else. They were the most shaken, the hardest hurt. By comparison, Sky was just coughing constantly and Cardin had lost a pauldron somewhere along the line, but it wasn't worth going back for. Let the Grimm keep it. It was theirs now. Lost to the Grimmlands, like so much else.
"Cardin! You're alive!"
Never had Ruby of Team RWBY sounded so glad to see him, and never had he been so relieved in return. Old animosities mattered little against the Grimm. Anyone - or anything - not wearing a white mask was a welcome sight right now.
"Hey," he rasped, throat raw from smoke and the shouting of orders. Despite the pain, he forced himself to keep talking. "Good to see you're still alive. We saw your smoke."
Not the smoke from signal flares, but from actual fire. The tree line was only a tree line because much of the surrounding area had been turned to cinder and ash. Amazing what a little fire dust could do, even with wet wood. He had no idea whether it was the Schnee or Xiao-Long who caused it, but if it removed any chance of Grimm sneaking up on them, he was all for it. It had also let his team find them.
"We saw yours," Ruby returned, too tired to spare anything for humour. "The Moon Ursa?" she asked.
"Huh, so you saw it as well?" Cardin asked, relieved he and his team weren't losing their minds, and not caring how she knew. "I know Grimm get bigger out here, but how old was that thing? Why didn't it go after you?"
"I… don't know," Ruby admitted, and in doing so brushing against an acute sort of vulnerability, the fragility of knowing that if it had gone for them, things might have been impossibly different. "It never fought us in the first place. I don't think it even noticed us. It just walked by, heading somewhere else. It was like we were too insignificant to matter."
A humbling thought, especially from a man-eating Grimm.
Cardin breathed a little bit easier. Maybe they really had gotten away, for now. "Think it will come back?" he asked.
"The story said it learned to go away from the fires, right?" Ruby asked. "That's what the person in the legend did, so Blake thought it might work here." She shrugged towards the burned down trees, and he realized maybe it hadn't been in hopes of removing cover at all, but instead of forcing the Moon Ursa away. It was a ballsy plan.
"Hopefully it works," Cardin agreed. The fact that hope was all they had - hope in a country fairy-tale, no less - was a dispiriting thing. He looked at her. "So, if not for the Moon Ursa, why are you still here? Why not move? I thought you'd be finding your friend already."
Ruby didn't glower, but sank within herself, looking as defeated as he felt. "We had to fall back and call for evac," she admitted, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes. "We needed a landing zone, and after we killed all the Grimm in the area and started the fire, this worked, but only because-" and suddenly, Ruby cupped her hands to her face and tried to suppress a wail. "Because it's all my fault!"
It was a surreal sight for Cardin. Once, not too long ago, he might have laughed or jeered at the younger girl, certain nothing would befall him. Now he awkwardly reached out to touch – comfort - his fellow team leader. "What is?" he asked as softly as he could. "What happened?"
A loud, pained scream, the sort that made all of CRDL alert and look for any other Grimm, provided the answer.
Over on the far side of the burned-out clearing were the other girls of Team RWBY, clustered around a body. The body - still alive, for now - was of the other guide, the one Cardin only remembered by her green headband and pretty face. The face was anything but pretty now, and that was with the bandana lowered to cover the eyes. The remaining three girls of RWBY surrounded her, holding her down. And pulling something out.
The girl was a pincushion of nevermore quills, and blood stained the charred ground beneath her.
Kalie screamed again as another quill was removed, but this time softer, smothered by Blake's hand over her mouth. She was doubtlessly biting as hard as she could, and even from this distance Cardin could see the shine of aura protecting skin. Blake looked distressed, but seemed to care about her hand as little as she did her shredded clothes.
"Come on, Kalie, please Kalie, relax Kalie, it's going to be alright," Blake chanted, far too loud to be called a whisper. "It'll be over soon. We just have to get some of these quills out before the bullhead arrives, so you can lie down for the trip, alright?" But then her hand slipped, maybe from active aura making it harder to keep a grip, and Kalie began to thrash as violently as she could, preventing Blake from smothering her once more.
"I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry!" Kalie wailed, thrashing feebly against the three stronger girls holding her down. "I'm sorry Con, I'm sorry Jaune, I'm sorry Ma! I was wrong I was wrong I was-" a sob of pain and more could be heard as Blake tried but failed to cover her mouth again. Mad with pain, Kalie resisted. "I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm- I I just wanted to prove a point! I'll never hunt again, I swear I swear I swear so please oh please just make it stop!"
"Hold her down," Weiss whispered as Blake's hand found its place again. Weiss's own blood-stained hands gripped another feather. Kalie must have felt, and writhed wildly under Yang's grip. Weiss clenched her eyes shut, whispered an apology, and pulled.
Even through Blake's hand, they could still hear her.
Blood followed. Nevermore quills were barbed like bee stingers, to do more damage on the removal, though Weiss was immediately ready with another makeshift bandage. Her own coat was nowhere to be seen, suggesting where the bandages were coming from. Despite the tenderness, Kalie whimpered as the bandage was applied. She whimpered and thrashed and cried, and although the occasional word could be heard past Blake's hand, little could be made out as the girls held their guide down.
"It's all my fault," Ruby repeated, drawing Cardin's attention back to her. The girl looked… the girl looked about as expected, really, even as Kalie's babbling turned incoherent, delirium finally kicking in. "It's my fault. We got stuck in a thicket when the Grimm came, and I thought she'd be okay as long as the Beowolves couldn't reach her, but then the Nevermore came and they…" the girl shook, and it was hard to tell if it was tears or rage or both. "They weren't big, but they were mean and just wouldn't stop! We kept on getting caught in the vines as we tried to knock them down and she could only shoot a few until she got hit and then they just wouldn't stop-"
Another smothered scream came, overpowering the faint whispers, and Ruby's hands leapt to her face as she herself let out a strangled sob. She cried louder than if it were happening to her. Ruby Rose, the girl who seemed to fear nothing – not even death – had seemingly found something far worse to fear.
Failure. And not being the one to bear the consequences of it.
Cardin, unfamiliar as he was with such things, tried to reach out and offer absolution. "It's not your fault, Ruby. Bad encounters happen. You can't predict everything."
It didn't help. The look on Ruby's face showed that enough. "But it is! She told me she wasn't comfortable going on at night! She tried to tell us to wait for morning! If we'd just stayed in the cave it wouldn't have mattered! But I didn't want to stop. I wanted to find Ren, to find him before you, and so I- I didn't listen and I told her it'd be alright because we'd protect her and then- but- but we didn't and-"
Now she really did break down, covering her face in her hands once more and crying. Cardin did what he could, even if it was just an uncomfortable touch on the shoulder and sharing the guilt as she struggled to get herself back under control.
"You're not… you're not the only one who didn't listen," he admitted. "At least you didn't lose your guide."
"Close enough," Ruby said with a sniffle, before really hearing what he said. "Wait, what?" She blinked, tears away but red eyes remaining. "What do you mean?" She looked up, and around, at the four men of Team CRDL. Her face was suddenly pale. "W-Where's Jaune?"
It was Cardin's turn to not look her in the eye. "I don't know."
"What?" Ruby said, not comprehending. "How? Where-?"
Where, he didn't know. How… he'd rather not say. Not yet. Not until he had to.
Cardin was saved from answering when the roar of a bullhead approached. It was soft at first, surprisingly so, but then suddenly loud, and right above the clearing. It appeared to have been skimming at tree top level the entire time, muffling its approach.
Team CRDL let loose a breath of relief, staggering to their feet. They went to help Team RWBY, who was trying to lift Kalie as gently as they could. That left Ruby and Cardin alone for a moment, even as the bullhead - three bullheads, really - hovered overhead.
One for RWBY, one for CRDL, and one for reinforcements, delayed at first but ready to welcome the returning teams and even more ready to fight any last onslaught of Grimm. It should have relieved him but it didn't. He knew who was on that aircraft.
That was the one they were most anxious about, even after Team CFVY emerged and jump down to secure the area. Coco already had her minigun out, ready to level the forest at the first sign of Grimm at the tree line. Her boys were beside her, even as Velvet - and wasn't that an uncomfortable but welcome sight - landed last, a large aid bag at her side.
A single glance at their teams and Kalie saw her alter her path immediately rush over to the most seriously wounded, jumping over the burnt stumps and charred trees that littered the fire-cleared clearing.
Down last came five more pairs of feet, including the three people Cardin and Ruby least wanted to see right now.
"Ready?" Cardin asked softly, as an aside.
"No," Ruby admitted, sniffling once more as she wiped something out of her eye, "but what else is new today?"
There was a certain black humour to that which might have made Cardin smile in any other situation. Not now, and not when a desperate blur of ginger and pink rushed towards them. It was all he could do to stay standing in the face of it. He wanted to flee.
"Ruby!" the vanguard of Team JNPR called, running as fast as she could. "Where is he? Where's Ren?"
"I'm sorry," Ruby whispered. "We… we couldn't find him."
"WHAT?" Nora cried, louder by far and reaching for Ruby. "What do you mean?!"
Ruby quivered. Cardin intercepted Nora's hands before they could reach the smaller girl, not that he thought she'd hit her, but more than Nora wouldn't know her own strength. Ruby looked close enough to collapse already.
"She means we didn't reach him," he said.
"Then why are you waiting here?" Nora exclaimed, her voice filled with a mixture of worry and fury that made her words less questions and more fevered demands. "Get back out there! Go find him!"
"We can't, Nora," Ruby tried to explain, but it came off as babbling. "The Grimm, they were too much! The Moon Ursa, it's too big!"
"I don't care how big some stupid Ursa is!" Nora declared, hefting her hammer. "Ren's out there! He could be hurt! He needs our help! If you don't won't, I'll will!"
There was a frightening possibility that she might. That she'd run off into the forest, hammer and all, and almost assuredly never be heard from again. She was strong, he'd admit, but there was no way she would do any better than they had. She'd do worse, even, since she didn't have a guide to rely on – or ignore, in both their cases. Cardin grabbed her before Ruby could try. "Don't be stupid. You'd die sooner than we failed."
Cardin was rewarded for his honesty with a clean blow that did more damage than anything else had that night. He folded, but Nora's hammer froze when a red-gloved hand gripped it.
"Calm down, Nora," Pyrrha said, as soothing as she could be given the circumstances. "Think about what Ren would do. He wouldn't want you upset like this."
"But Ren- he-" Nora's urgency quivered as she looked at Pyrrha. "He's all alone and could be hurt and- and-" Tears began to rise. "He left me, Pyrrha! He left me behind and now he's all alone and no one else is even trying-"
The dam burst, and the berserker broke down into tears even as Pyrrha enveloped her. "That's not true, Nora," she said. "You know that's not true. You know RWBY must have done their best-"
They were words meant to sooth, but they had the opposite effect on Ruby who looked down, even as footsteps approached, even as she saw a pair of jeans enter her vision, and four more legs behind. Ruby couldn't look up, and braced for what she knew would follow.
"Ruby?" the all-too familiar feminine voice hesitantly asked. "I don't see Jaune. Where is he?"
Ruby still couldn't look up. Still couldn't meet those soft blue eyes. "I'm sorry," was all she could manage.
"Sorry?" her best friend didn't understand. "Sorry for what? Ruby, I don't understand. Where is he?"
"I… I don't know," Ruby admitted, hands clenching. "He wasn't with me. I'm sorry."
"Huh? But-"
"Your brother didn't go with her," Cardin said, standing with a pained grunt. "He went with me."
"Cardin? But why? What happened?"
Cardin hesitated for a second, but eventually told her the truth. "We got separated when a Grimm attacked. We had to retreat, and I couldn't go back for him. It's… I'm the one responsible." He closed his eyes. "It's my fault. I'm sor-"
The sound of the girl's palm impacting his cheek was deafening. Ruby shivered but Cardin took it without complaint, not even saying a word. Neither team leader dared to breathe. The hands - hands usually so friendly, now shaking – grasped Ruby's cloak and almost picked her up. They were trembling, and it was hard to tell if they were trying to be gentle or trying to not be something worse as they made her look up.
Ruby's first friend at Beacon looked down at her with frightened eyes.
"A.. A Grimm attack? My brother, you... you know he's not a real Huntsman, right?" blue eyes asked, wide with uncertainty. "I know what I said, but- it must have been obvious. That's why I asked you… you promised you would keep an eye out for him." Her voice, while shaking, was slowly increasing in volume, in fear, in many other less wholesome things. "Where is he, Ruby? Where is Jaune? Where is my brother?!"
Ruby's fists clenched, as did her eyes.
"I'm sorry," was all she could say.
"Sorry isn't good enough!" her friend exclaimed, no different than if someone had been delivering the same news to Yang. "He's my brother! He only went because I asked him to! I didn't-"
"You!" Nora suddenly roared, rising to her feet and stumbling towards the two of them in tears, hands clenching. Ruby's eyes clenched even harder, if that was possible, and wished it was all a bad dream. "This is your fault!"
"Nora, that's enough!" Pyrrha tried to restrain, but her words were thrown off as easily as she was. "She didn't-"
"She did! She's the reason why! None of this would have happened if it weren't for her!" Nora raged, regardless of consequence. "This is all your fault, you hear me? Your fault! Ren, your brother, everything! It's all your fault!"
Ruby tried to shut it all out, tried to ignore what followed, and desperately wished that this worst day ever could just be a dream already, even a nightmare.
At least nightmares ended eventually.
/-/
Damn Hunters.
Damn them. Damn them damn them, damn them! Real Hunters were all the same, no matter what they wore or how much they pretended otherwise. In the end, they always ran off to save themselves, just like everyone else from the Kingdoms. 'Leave no comrade behind' his ass.
Damn them!
Jaune's hand brushed against the bark of a tree, his legs feet found purchase, and he half-dragged, half-pulled himself up the tree with more energy than was probably wise. It wouldn't do to be on the ground if more Grimm came, though given the pace the last pack had moved they'd caught a taste of something far darker then him.
Breathe.
The sting in his side wasn't the only reason Jaune narrowed his eyes as he took a look around. In the distance he could barely see three bullheads rise and fly away from smoke still rising in on the horizon. That smoke- the thick sort that only wet brush did when finally ignited, like with fire dust- matched his temper. Which was in no way helped by the massive bruise he could feel beneath the jerkin.
Hold.
That idiot's mace, even if it had saved him, was certainly not the softest thing to be struck by. He could feel the bruise blossoming already, and winced as he gingerly prodded it again with one finger. It was hard to breath and stung like anything, but experience told him nothing was broken. His ribs might not even be bruised, even if he most certainly was.
He would live. More than that, he could still move and shoot. So, he would keep on living too.
Let go.
Pain and other distractions left the body for a moment as Jaune considered signalling the retreating bullheads. Even if he wanted to- pulled out his new scroll or lit a flare- they probably wouldn't notice, and certainly wouldn't turn around if they did. Already he could see distant black clouds gather on the horizon. Not just even thicker rain clouds, but Nevermore. They had been dropped off so far and no further for a reason.
But even if that wasn't true- even if they could come back- calling them would be tantamount to failure. Asking for their help now would be begging for rescue.
Like he needed that. Like he needed that from the likes of them. He could survive the Grimm Lands on his own if he had to. He'd done it for years. He could walk back to Edge on foot if he wanted. Not that they'd care- fat chance they'd still be around a place they clearly detested- but he could. They couldn't. That was the difference between him and Beacon's best.
"I believe you are a backwoods hunter who knows how to shoot mindless and relatively harmless animals," Weiss admitted. "This may be a useful skill – indeed a necessary one out here where farmland is so scarce – but this does not qualify you to take part on an expedition in which lives are at stake. Trained professions – not amateur outdooorsmen – are the best chance for success this mission has."
His temper simmered. Professionals? SDC hired professionals, at least. They came here, did their job, and left soon enough. They were usually polite about it. They rarely caused much trouble for their own workers, let alone others.
"And I thought the SDC was bad," Blake muttered. "Back home, we actually care for our people. It's not perfect, and racism divides us, but at least we don't pretend poverty is a choice. When people need help, we help them."
Kingdom people? Kingdom brutes, was more like it. Always ready to use force to get their way. Willing to hurt people to 'save' them. Or just abandon them when it got inconvenient.
"We protect them from what we can, and we don't forget about them when they're inconvenient. Not like you people. Not like out here."
In a few years, they'd probably never talk about it again.
No one would want to, if anyone still cared, about one failed rescue expedition in the Grimm Lands. Oh, someone would be sad… for a little while. But in time students would graduate, scholars would study more important things, and the fact that students had been all that was spared to save one of their own from the Grimmlands would be quietly and conveniently swept under the rug in favor of much more important things, like counting village idiots.
Bad for moral, dwelling on things like that. It might make people question the wisdom and benevolence of their dear leaders. Easier to forget past failures, lost Hunters, and who was to blame. No one wanted to remember that stuff.
Jaune's hand went to his sleeve, and touched the red bandana forever there.
He would make them remember.
A Beowolf that probably passed not too long ago howled in the distance, a helpful reminder of where he (still) was. The Grimmlands.
Breathe.
Hold.
Let go.
"You haven't saved anyone, have you?" the girl half-guessed, half accused. "You were probably the one who had to be saved – hiding up in a tree or something! That's it, isn't it?"
…no.
He couldn't. He wouldn't. Not this, and not like this. Never saved anyone? Nothing more than a backwoods hunter? He'd show them- he'd show them all, by succeeding where they failed. Something they refused to do, something they gave up on so they could save themselves like the 'real' Hunters they were.
He'd save Lie Ren.
Uncle once said that the only real revenge against the Grimm was surviving. The way he figured it, that probably worked against Hunters too. If so, the only way to make it sweeter would be for more survival. Let them try to forget when one of their own walked amongst them. Let them deal with the awkward pauses and uncomfortable explanations of telling him why they gave up on him. Let them all live knowing they owed a debt to someone they considered beneath them.
Let them live knowing that he- a nobody backwoods hunter- had succeeded where oh-so-educated teams of the elite Beacon Academy had not just failed, but abandoned their mission and one of their own to the tender mercies of the Grimm.
Let him do something they'd all considered impossible - again - and bring life once thought lost back from the Grimmlands.
That is what would make him better than them, those wannabe Huntresses and 'real' Huntsmen, once and for all. That is how he'd return to Edge, head high and triumphant. And then maybe-
Just maybe-
She'd finally believe, let go of that childish fantasy, and come home again.
Breath. Hold…
"You'll never be half the Huntress she was," Jaune whispered, touching his band and looking in the direction the Bullheads had flown off in.
"But you don't have to be."
Let go.
/-/
He found something interesting not too much later.
He'd been passing by a wet tree when something caught his eye, a little bit of colour at the base of the trunk He'd stopped, stopped down to its base, and looked close until he saw what he was looking for. A red fungus.
Red Man's Wort. More of a mould than anything, clinging to the juncture between roots and soil, and shown in school books around the Kingdom, or so he'd heard. Its own roots would form a network underneath, leaching off its larger cousin. It was a poisonous plant that could leave a man crippled by diarrhoea if he ate enough, and even kill a smaller child or pregnant woman.
But that was only if ingested. If you applied it to the skin- picked it up, crushed the fungus into a paste between fingers, and dabbed all over- the same poison which took lives could numb skin. It wouldn't heal anything, per see, but it could offer relief to sunburned- or bruised- skin. An all-natural painkiller when applied locally, but that wasn't what was interesting.
What was interesting was that most of this batch had recently been harvested.
There was still some left- enough for Jaune to use for his own relief- but not as much as there should if nature had consumed itself. But as he looked closer, other signs- or lack of signs- were clear. No sign of hair, but that might have been the rain. No scratches against the bark, or hoof prints in the muck, or mud all over the roots, to suggest an animal rolling around trying to apply it to its side.
Whatever had harvested this had plucked them. Neatly. And no Grimm with that kind of dexterity lived around here.
Up above, thunder crackled as the rain began to come down again. Monsoon season was here, which spelled all kinds of bad things. He'd known about it, of course, but the mission was supposed to be over today. Navigating in a storm would be hard enough without the Grimm being on high alert, driven into a frenzy by the huge fight that had just recently ended. Until they accepted that all the humans had gone, they'd still be stalking further south, at least until they went back to their dens to wait out the squall.
In a way that made things easier for him. Or at least safer. At least in this region, if you ignored all the other dangers rain storms could bring.
Free to move in the open, relatively, Jaune kept a look out for any more signs. The best bet would be to follow the path of least resistance, as that's where people naturally drifted when walking. Downhill, and through easy areas.
The trek down the ridge and towards the clearing was a slow and arduous one, made more so by the care necessitated by not by the Grimm as much as the rain. The fact was that the rain was turning the dirt to into a slippery slush beneath his feet. Where CRDL had leapt down the hill yesterday, he cautiously measured each step and did not slip at all. You couldn't afford to when it was only you. Get injured out here and there'd be no one to offer a helping hand, hence you couldn't afford to take the risk in the first place.
As the air became cooler and mist appeared before his mouth, he rubbed his hands together and tugged his leather jacket – still in one piece, thankfully – tighter around himself. Without a fire to warm his body, he instead kept himself going with fantasies of what he'd say to those Hunters once he got back to Edge. Maybe he'd have to travel to Vale to find them, but he'd do it. He'd make the whole sodding journey if he had to, and then burst into their classroom in the middle of class to tell them off. It would be a glorious moment – and it wouldn't only be CRDL and RWBY to apologise. He'd make all of those Hunters listen to what he had to say!
A howl split the air, closer than he'd have liked, close enough that he had to respond. Fool, he admonished himself anyways. You can't dwell on something like that here. Let it go for now. Think about it later.
Fantasies were better than fear, but arrogance was only a few steps above anger. Anger wasn't the worst of emotions, but it could be felt if someone- or something- was close enough or already alert.
He bit down on everything unimportant, even his lingering pain, and quickly looked around until he found a tree that would suffice. With more grace than any would have expected, he scaled up it, hands and feet finding footholds wherever they could. Once he was perched in a lower bough, he closed his eyes and concentrated.
Breathe, he whispered internally, drawing air into his lungs.
Hold, he echoed, doing such.
Pour all of your emotion into that breath. Take the fear, the pain, the anger, even those thoughts of home and love and everything else, and feed it into the breath like you would wood into a fire. Imagine them burning brightly as the flames take hold.
He did so, and felt his muscles slacken. And then, when it burnt bright...
Let it go…
It was a soft, easy exhale, a mere whisper in the wind and stolen away just as quickly. His eyes opened, his irises a dark, calm, blue, and focused on the forest floor beneath him. Soon- within minutes- a black and white figure with a bone mask stalked into sight after bumbling through some bushes.
It was a Beowolf, large but not an alpha. It sniffed the grass, the bark, and then the air itself, though not as a dog might. The 'scent' it sought was something else entirely, already faint and fading. It seemed confused, even as Jaune's bow was prepped on his hip.
He did not reach for it. He didn't need to.
Breathe. Hold. Let go…
No fear. No anger. No emotion. Just him, the forest, and a simple animal searching for food. Food that he was not. Food that the Beowolf would not find here, for there was none to be had.
He was a hunter. He was not prey. But to the Beowolf, he may as well have been part of the tree itself.
The Beowolf's snout rose, its lips peeling back as it snarled, catching a different scent on the air. With a soft whine, almost a whimper of apology, it went back into the bushes from which it came. Loping away in a feral rush, it's feet echoed a stampede into the distance, growing louder as it joined with others of its unnatural pack as they all moved south.
Jaune waited another minute still, gently closing his eyes and tilting his head, listening to the sounds of the forest. It was only when the silence returned, broken only by the rain, that he finally moved. His feet shifted on the bough and he fell the fifteen or so feet to the mossy floor, legs flexing as he landed, one hand falling flat to the ground between his legs.
Avoiding Grimm instead of fighting them… it was just another day on the Grimmlands, at least if you wanted there to be another one. Grimm weren't worth hunting. They didn't give meat or hide or even bone to speak of. It was almost appropriate that the bane of humanity left nothing beneficial in their passing. Even in dying they were nothing good for humanity.
He might have killed that Beowolf. He could easily have done so. It hadn't noticed him, and the shot was simple. But what would he have gained for it, and at what risk? The tiny chance he might miss, the possibility it might sense his lethal intent, and a larger chance his arrow would have snapped or broken as it died. A perfectly good arrow, even if not a special one, and for what? Satisfaction? The enjoyment of having proven his superiority over something?
Bah. Huntsman nonsense.
Safe once more, he made his way down into the valley, down where he knew fresh water would be, winding through troughs carved by mountain streams. Grimm had little use of water, more for cleaning then quenching their thirst, but that little use did still make streams slightly more dangerous than elsewhere. Still, it was a risk that often had to be made, and even more often worth it given the edible wildlife that did depend on such streams.
Including, when you got down to it, people. Jaune knelt down, fingers brushing an impression that certainly wasn't deer, and probably not a hoof or paw of any sort.
The Hunter?
Jaune looked around. The little streams meandered, but here they also meandered towards the side, towards a ridgeline. There might also be some caves down there to shelter in. Grimm were still a possibility, but most in this area had probably already headed south.
It was while he was making his way down and over a rocky outcrop that his eyes caught a brief flash of unnatural colour. He froze instinctively, ducking low, but it wasn't red like eyes, nor black or white like flesh and bone. In fact, it was green – which might not have seemed unusual in the forest were it not for the shade, far too bright and unusual for the flora in the area. He scanned the area warily, and only moved towards it when he was sure it was clear. The tuft of colour didn't move, and in fact appeared to be a scrap of cloth torn from something.
He rubbed it between his fingers. It was soft and warm, water-resistant in the rain and designed to shelter someone. It was a scrap of clothing.
But none of the people he had been with wore such a colour. Even Kalie's bandanna was darker, his fellow hunter knowing better than to come out here with something so bright strapped to her head. This was someone different.
Was he close?
Jaune paused and put down his ruck, reaching in for his new scroll. It was…
Quite clearly cracked, or worse, as the casing was all but broken apart and a built-in antenna broke off.
Jaune grimaced, just slightly, at the memory of dropping his ruck from the bullhead and for some reason believing Team CRDL would catch it.
It still turned on, though, so that was relief. And even if the screen's glass was cracked, whatever was behind it still worked. Hitting keys by memory as Team CRDL had taught him, Jaune activated the emergency transponder locator, hoping to find the missing Huntsman's.
A map, familiar enough that he knew where he was, popped up. Then, automatically, it began to zoom in, focusing on two labelled dots. One Team CRDL had told him was his location. The other must be the Huntsman's. According to this he was now relatively near to the area they'd picked up the distress beacon. He was close.
Now all he had to do was keep moving forward. Another ridge line to go, as always.
He was lucky, but not surprised, when he found footprints before he reached the top of this saddle of the ridgeline.
Luck had to do with the rain. The tracks he found were old - over a day at least - but hadn't washed away. The lack of surprise was from being in the right place. There, in the distance, he saw a break in the canopy that might have something to do with a crashed bullhead, but 'here' was the location of at least one of the emergency beacon readings. He made note of its grid coordinates earlier, and matched them to his map. It might be worth checking out before he left, for future salvage if nothing else.
Jaune put away his map and followed the tracks, ignoring the stitch in his sides as he did so. Some things Red Man's Wort couldn't help with. Without passion he cursed the Hunters, though he should have been hating the hill.
It wasn't a bad hill, though, not really. It never did anyone any harm. It was just muddy, slippery when wet, and too damn long. Jaune staggered after human-sized tracks, though, which themselves seemed to stagger towards the side of one slope in particular. Rain poured over an outcropping, but didn't flow further down the hill. That must have meant it poured into the hill instead.
Good. A cave, probably. Even if his mark wasn't here, it would at least be a good place to rest a moment, maybe wring out his socks. He made his way towards it, not allowing his excitement to show, let alone influence his pace. Calm and careful, one step at a time, and always aware of your surroundings.
That was the only way to survive for long, even if it made a short distance take three times as much as it should have. Fools rushed where hunters dared to tread. Taking shortcuts was easy. Dragging yourself out of the consequences when it went wrong wasn't. Uncle had told him that more than once before he'd learned it first-hand himself.
As he approached, the possibility of the target's absence seemed to diminish, and Jaune's eyes narrowed, taking in detail after detail. The trail, less prints but more broken twigs and the occasional rotation of mud, showed someone heading inside, but not venturing out again. What was more, there was a traveller's canteen, a cheap but effective metal one, balanced between two rocks with its uncorked lid aimed towards the sky. He was careful not to disturb the rain catcher, knowing it would make sound if he did.
There was a snare, too, off between two rocks where it would catch absolutely nothing, but it at least might have alerted the inhabitant to any stupid Grimm lumbering by, if the footsteps wouldn't have done that already.
He'd give points for effort. It was better than nothing.
As he paused at the entrance to the cave, he wondered what sights he might see within. Would the Hunter be alive and well? Would it be enough Cardin Winchester or Ruby Rose, set in their ways and unwilling to listen to a rube like him? Or would it be a body, a husk of one who had passed in isolation? The latter might have been the most macabre, but it was still a possibility he had to accept, if only so it didn't catch him by surprise. The Grimm were still eager to find him, after all.
Funny that they hadn't found this cave, for he could see no evidence of Grimm tracks. At the very least this would make a suitable den, although it was at the top rather than bottom of a ridgeline. Too much effort? Maybe, but there should have been something nearby, especially if there was a potentially wounded person nearby. Even if they were fine, they should at least have some negativity – be it fear, hunger, or just frustration at being stranded. For there to have been no Grimm…?
It was either lucky or strange, and Uncle claimed there was no such thing as luck. Only people who took advantage of unexpected opportunities.
It didn't matter, he supposed. He came here for a reason, and he'd do what he needed to do.
Breathe. Hold. Let go…
Jaune stepped into the cave, and around the first corner. The floor went down, slope giving way to make-shift stairs into a large room. It was old- stalactites and stalagmites both, but it was also well lit. Holes along the side let in rain that covered much of the floor, but also light. Easily enough to see, casting the room in a soft glow.
It was that light that allowed him to see him. From his position at the top of the 'stairs', Jaune could see the entire room, but one patch of green stood out. It wasn't clean, but it was dry, drier than Jaune's own green hoodie at least, and it was on a boy kneeling on the floor. He was washing his hands in the cool clear water flowing in. The boy noticed him noticing him, and looked up.
Their eyes met, and for a moment neither spoke. The boy in green took him in. Jaune, for his part, was struck by just how pink the other boy's eyes were, and how calm and unafraid they seemed. This was the student of Beacon academy, lost and alone in the Grimm lands, without a hint of fear or desperation?
He was different. Jaune could tell instantly.
Or at least, he seemed different… but he would disappoint in time. They always did.
"You Lie Ren?" he asked, his voice gruffer than he really intended it to be, echoing in the dusty cavern.
"I am," he said, in a voice that was infinitely softer, infinitely more musical, and reminded him of just how different their lifestyles were. The city-boy stood, brushing his moist hands against his trouser leg and acting as if another human coming into your cave in the middle of Grimm-infested territory was an everyday occurrence. "And you are?" he asked.
"I'm Jaune Arc, and I'm here to rescue you."
He remembered to at least try and smile.
"It's going to be alright."
/-/
That was our first meeting, a moment I will remember for as long as I live, no matter how short that may be now. I, clean and composed and with barely a hint of my recent affliction. Him, soaked and sleepless and with a worn experience I could only begin to grasp. And then there was that name…
I'll admit I was not impressed at first. He looked so weathered I wondered if I would have to rescue him instead. I would, eventually. Many times, and after many tribulations, but no more than he would save me. He was not an easy man to like, not even then, as second, third, and fourth impressions would make clear. It took time to understand him, and even longer to care.
But I must confess, in that moment - for just a moment - I felt… if not safe, at least no longer alone.
-The Diary of Lie Ren
CF's Notes:
Congratulations! After five chapters and ten weeks, we've completed the first section of A Hunter or Something. Tutorial arc, really. Only another... several... dozen... to go!
(Chapters, not arcs. Though depending on how you define them...)
This was the arc I had the most direct hand in writing, having already written most of it, and it probably shows. Hopeful it shows in a good way- or at least in a way that makes you feel something you liked. If not, rest assured that Coeur has the reigns for the rest of it. There are key arcs and major scenes to look forward to (well, I'll look forward to. Some of you might not!), but even I'm looking forward to seeing how Coeur gets there.
Looking back at this arc, we've made some progress in getting used to the sort of story that HoS will be. We've had laughs. We had thrills. We even introduced some new characters, and didn't horribly affect most of them! Add some world-building and atypical character dynamics, and I think we're on our way to good times. Or at least I think things are looking up, but the real story starts now.
This story probably won't be what you're used to. It certainly won't be the usual RWBY fanfic fare, or even a Coeur-work. After all, I heard from a well-placed source that Headmaster Ozpin might be... competent. Le horror. But, if you're willing to take the risk of a slow-burn character-driven story, there might be something good here.
Thoughts and reviews are appreciated, of course, as are tvtrope contributions and other shameless self-promoting sell-outs.
(We don't have a story image yet! Just saying!)
Cheers,
C.F.
p.s.: Also, please enjoy the following little world trivia thing below. Maybe it will become a thing, but... true story, this story once started as a sort of 'wilderness survival guide' fic. Call this a lingering remnant.
(Please imagine little chibi Ren and Jaune giving a post-credits presentation for all the good listeners who pay attention through the end. And, who knows, maybe someday someone might write them up as a 'Chibi' skit.)
World of HoS Trivia: Chapter 5
"The Golden Hour": In emergency medicine, the golden hour- the first hour after severe injury- is the ideal time for first responders to reach patients because medical intervention is most likely to save someone's life within that period. After the first hour, the chances for survival can quickly diminish.
"The Golden 72" is a derivative of that, usually used for search and rescue work, where most people who survive being reported lost are found within the first three days of being lost. This time limit is because of dehydration and assumes a lack of clean water, as while the typical person can survive almost a week without food it's hard to last three days without water, especially if you're injured. Having enough water to await rescue is the single most important factor of survival in the majority of wilderness survival cases, and the cleaner the better.
This is why Ren set up a canteen outside the cave, to collect rain water, rather than drink the cave run-off water he was already cleaning himself in. Dirty water is better than no water, but clean water is best!
And now you know.
Next Chapter: 18th November
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