Welcome to the first main arc of HoS. Enjoy.
Writer: Coeur al'Aran
Director: College Fool
Chapter 6
Ren was relieved
Though he kept it from showing on his face, and felt it less than others might, he couldn't help but admit that his shoulders relaxed a little at realising the entrant to his cave was human and not some wandering Grimm. Other aspects of the figure's attire and posture reinforced that feeling, from the rough and ready clothing to the intricate weapon – clearly mechashift of some kind – on his back. Despite being his own age, the other boy's eyes were guarded and wary, instantly reminding him of Huntsmen he'd seen before.
And then there was that name…
"It's good to meet you," Ren said, feeling that despite the rough situation, some degree of politeness was required. "Are the others around, or do we need to call for them?"
"Don't bother. There's nobody else," the man, Jaune, said brusquely.
Ren's brow creased. "What do you mean?"
"I mean that there isn't anyone else. We're on our own."
"But reinforcements-"
"Ain't coming. I'm all you've got." The scruffy young man brushed past him, moving to a rock and taking a moment to rest on it as he put down his ruck. "There were others, but they turned and ran after running into the Grimm. I'm the only one who stayed."
Worry wormed its way through him, but was quickly washed away not only by discipline, but deliberate effort. A sense of calm replaced anything else. "Who left?" he asked, almost detached. "Who were you with?"
"Your friends from Beacon," Jaune said, and was it his imagination, or was there a hint of vindictiveness there? "Team CRDL."
Ren let out a breath he hadn't quite been holding. CRDL… wasn't who he had been expecting, but it wasn't a surprise either. Cardin had never been the best of their class, and as surprising as it was to hear he came it wasn't hard to imagine him failing.
It was a lot easier than believing his own team had given up.
"They're not my friends," Ren said, calmly looking his rescuer straight in the eye.
"They're not my friends either," Jaune returned, rubbing his side near his ribs. "Didn't make what they did any less of a dick move."
Ren had no response for that, and didn't say anything. After it became clear he wouldn't, the more experienced Hunter sighed and moved on.
"Alright," Jaune said, changing track. "You're clearly not dying, so that's a plus. Since nobody else is coming, there's no point staying here either. Before we get moving, let's take stock. How long have you been here, and what've you got?"
"A little more than two days in this cave," Ren replied, recognising and responding to the business-like attitude. "As for supplies, not much I'm afraid. I didn't have time to grab much before the pilot told me to jump."
He emptied his pockets and laid out what he had before him. His scroll was in one piece, though obviously drained of battery by now. The rest seemed trivial. A few flares, his Stormflowers and some spare ammo. Aside from the clothes on his back, that's all he had… aside from one little book he'd been handed before he leapt.
Jaune Arc looked up at him, clearly unimpressed. "That's it? Didn't you grab anything else? Don't tell me you've sitting in this cave the last two days doing nothing but go hungry."
Ren didn't let himself be affected by the obvious disapproval. "I have water in a canteen outside, but just finished the last of the emergency rations before you arrived," he said, indicating a tidy pile of neatly folded food wrappers. Nutrient bars, by the look of them.
Jaune Arc gave him a hard look. "You didn't ration it?"
Ren caught the clear frustration in the blonde's voice, but didn't respond to it. "I followed the recommended daily calorie intake the survival manuals recommend," he said. "It said to eat little but often to keep my strength up."
Jaune looked at him like he was speaking Mistrali, before shaking his head in clear disgust.
"Stupid," Jaune growled, and Ren had the feeling it was aimed less at him and more at the book. "Things like that aren't worth the paper they're printed on. They're meant for idiots lost in the woods, not the Grimmlands, and all they ever tell you is how to stay comfortable for the three days you'll get for rescue. After that, they're useless."
Was it really so bad? Ren didn't know enough to disagree, and so said nothing. His eyes fell to the small booklet, passed to him by the pilot before he leapt. He'd read it in his spare time. There'd been plenty of free time, and who knew? Maybe something in it would save his life.
At least it'd seemed to match up with some of the more impressive tales Port had given, if you looked past the bombast for an actual lesson.
To his relief, the Jaune Arc didn't comment on any further on it, but instead drew out a water-proofed map from his jacket, laying it down on the rock so that Ren could see. The more experienced man gestured for Ren to come closer, and so he did.
"If you didn't know already, we're here," Jaune Arc said, indicating a point on the map filled with contours and curves. "Do you know where 'here' is?"
Ren took a quick glance at the map. "The Lunar Cry Mountains?" he half-read, half-asked.
"The foothills, at least," Jaune said. "But more than that, we're in the Grimmlands. Not the frontier, not the old frontier, but the honest-to-god Grimmlands. No King has ruled these lands since before Vale," he claimed. The weary and ragged man looked at Ren. "It's dangerous here, even for me."
"Then what's our first step?" Ren asked, deferring to the more experienced peer.
"We leave," Jaune said simply. "Get out of the Grimmlands, as fast as possible. When we're somewhere safer, we can look at getting you back to civilization. Your friends will be long gone by then, but at least you'll be alive until you reach them."
Ren frowned, just slightly. "How long will that take?" he asked.
"Best case? Four days," Jaune said. "Probably more in this weather. Expect a week at least."
"A week?!" Ren reacted. That was almost twice as long! "That's too long! Classes resume next week and my team-"
Jaune looked at him, a silent look of disbelief that made Ren color. With a deep breath, and a bit of effort, Ren calmed himself.
"A week is too long. Where's the closest settlement?" he asked. "I need to contact my team at the earliest opportunity."
His opposite shook his head. "It's not that easy. We're on the north end of a whole lot of Grimm, bad enough that the bullheads flew around rather than straight over. There's some real big Grimm amongst them too. Grimmlands here expanded since the last time anyone checked 'em."
South, then.
"I can deal with the Grimm," Ren claimed. He was, if anything, uniquely suited for this kind of situation. "Maybe if we skirt around, and called for help then…"
"Your scroll able to call for help for the next week?" Jaune asked bluntly, reaching into his pack for his own. "Because I don't think mine will," he said, placing it out for Ren to view.
It was… cracked would be an understatement. Broken was probably better. The screen aside, the most important part- the reception antenna that could serve as an emergency transmitter in a pinch- was broken clear off, and not in a way that they could simply salvage the part from Ren's scroll.
No way they'd be calling for help with that.
"What happened?" he asked. "Was it the Grimm?"
The other man snorted. "Hardly. You can thank your friends for that. That would have been my back if I'd trusted them."
Ren frowned at the description again, but ignored it. It wasn't as important as getting back.
"I have flares. If we can just get near enough to be seen…"
"Bullheads flew around rather than through for a reason. Even if they hadn't the monsoon's going to keep them grounded until it lets up. I'm not going to take us deeper in just so you can launch a flare no one around will see. By the time anything can fly, we can be out of the Grimmlands already."
"Alright," Ren conceded.
"Alright?" Jaune repeated in surprise, almost like he'd expected an argument.
"It's not that I agree or not, but that I don't know enough as it is," he admitted, shrugging weakly. It was best to trust the more experienced Hunter. "I'm out of my element. You're not. If you think that's the best bet, it probably is."
"Heh," Jaune shot him an almost-friendly smile, the first sign of one he'd seen on the rugged and dirt-smeared huntsman's face. "Maybe you're not as dumb as your friends after all. It's good to see someone with a little common sense. You ready to follow my lead?"
Ren nodded, or maybe shrugged.
"Why not? She always said you were the best Huntsman on the frontier."
Jaune froze, and just like that things suddenly didn't look quite so good.
/-/
Breathe. Hold. Resist the urge to snap.
And then let it all go…
He should have known it would be just as bad as everything else. Really, this was what he got for daring to think otherwise in the first place. You could rely on people for a lot of things, like Kalie to listen when you spoke, or for Dogpatch's daughter to be ready with a smile if you ever needed one. You could also count on Hunters to stop listening to a damn word you said once they figured out you weren't one of their own.
"Are you sure we can't take the southern route?" his `companion` asked.
"Yes," Jaune replied for what felt like the tenth time. It probably was. "I've already told you, the area is crawling with Grimm." Among other things, and other reasons, none of which should matter more than that.
"I can handle the Grimm."
Jaune bit back on his anger, whispering his mantra under his breath and feeling the frustration drift away. Fight, fight, fight. That was all their kind ever thought of. The fact he was questioning the plan at all when he'd accepted it earlier only went to show how little the guy thought of a country hick like him. The plan had been fine when city-boy thought a Huntsman had come up with it. Now it suddenly wasn't. Three guesses as to why.
As for the Grimm, did the idiot think he was afraid of them or something? Maybe he just thought a civilian would have a different definition of the phrase "crawling with Grimm" than a Huntsman would. Did he think he'd gone skittish because saw two or three beowolves?
"We can't go south," Jaune repeated, hoping an explanation might convince the Huntsman. "Your friends didn't last a day just looking for you. Further south it's even worse, and that was before all your friends drove the Grimm into a frenzy. The whole area is teeming with Grimm, and they're not in a good mood. I should know," he added, scowling. "I was there."
"You also got out," Ren said. "Doesn't that mean we could get back through?"
'Not with you,' Jaune wanted to say. He didn't, because that would almost certainly be challenged, and he didn't need the argument.
"I got out because I was careful," he hissed instead. "Even I'd have a hard time getting through there now. Besides, we can't even carry the supplies for how long it would take."
"What if we gathered more?"
"Great idea! Why didn't I think of that?" Jaune asked, his voice thick with sarcasm. "I guess I'll just go and hunt us a feast along the way, and hope that Mouk doesn't mind that I'm poaching in his forest. Again!"
"Mouk?" Ren asked, but was ignored.
"Then maybe make a cookout of it! Roast some meat, gather some greens, and we can have a great meal around the fire that absolutely no Grimm around will be the slightest bit curious about! Maybe if they do come by, they'll be in the mood for something other than a side of human!"
Lie Ren didn't respond to his mockery, as well as he didn't. Jaune sighed, but not to calm himself. There wasn't enough passion behind the words to register anyways, and something felt off. The emotion behind the sarcasm had just… it wasn't there anymore. It was like it had slipped away, like water over a smooth stone. It wasn't like he'd been upset enough to be considered 'negative' in the first place, but still…
This partnership thing really wasn't working out. Lie Ren didn't trust him, and he didn't trust the Lie either.
Sure, Huntsman had done well enough so far to stay calm and not draw any Grimm. That already made him better than Cardin. On the other hand, he was also as stubborn as Cardin, even if he wasn't nearly as brash about it.
"The south route isn't an option," Jaune repeated once again. "Worry about getting out of the Grimmlands first. Even without the other Grimm, Mouk has set up his territory over there, and neither of us wants to deal with him if we don't have to."
"You said that name again. Who's Mouk?"
"I'll explain when we set up camp. For now, it's a big Ursa."
"I've fought Ursa before. You can trust me to take one out."
Jaune honestly laughed, though the feeling of mirth also slipped away as easily as the earlier sarcasm.
"Not like this, you haven't," he said. "You don't 'take out' Mouk any more than you'd take out a mountain. Team CRDL tried, and you can't see how well that worked because they aren't here anymore." He shook his head. "I don't care if you could beat all of Team CRDL yourself. I don't even care if you can beat Mouk. It wouldn't matter. Just one mistake- just Mouk seeing us- means we'd have every single Grimm in his domain after us."
"What if he didn't see us?"
Jaune tried not to let out a growl of frustration. That was surprisingly easy, since at the moment it felt like it might have been harder to simply be frustrated. Maybe he was too tired for frustration, and in the absence of it he was simply blunt and honest.
"Eight Beacon Hunters ran away and left you behind rather than stand up to him. Do you really think you're better than all of them combined?" Granted, Jaune didn't know all eight had ran away, or even survived, but…
But, strangely, that seemed to work... maybe. Lie Ren's pink eyes looked away, but only so they could look south. Jaune could feel his frustration return. He wasn't used to having to justify each and every little decision he made out here.
"Alright," Ren said, but with none of the deference he'd had back in the cage. "Still, if there was a way for us to get some more supplies, would you want to?"
Jaune crossed his arms, suspecting something.
"I wouldn't say no," Jaune said cautiously. He didn't feel particularly optimistic, since if it were any easy prospects Ren should have had said supplies already. Still, there was no denying that they needed them. He had some packaged food of his own, but he'd keep it hidden from the other teen for now to better ration it. Campfires were out for now, but that didn't mean he wouldn't be hunting along the way out of the Grimmlands. It would be hard enough to keep them both fed as-was. It wouldn't help if a city-boy turned his nose up at more basic cuisine.
Still, if supplies were on offer…
"When the Bullhead was attacked, I didn't have time to grab everything aboard before I had to jump. I couldn't go looking since I had to hole up, but if we're lucky… we could find not just food, but other things too."
"True," Jaune admitted. The Grimm would certainly have investigated, but they wouldn't bother eating human food, or human equipment. Metal shards tended not to go down well, no matter how much blood you had to wash it all down with.
"That was almost three days ago. The Grimm should have left by now."
"Also true… and they should have been drawn off by the disturbance we caused in the valleys." He looked back in that direction, idly wondering if that was why they'd been relatively unaccosted so far. If so, it was a rare stroke of fortune. "How far away did you think it was again?"
"I'm not sure, but it can't be that much. An hour, maybe two. That's all."
That was all, huh? Two hours could mean a lot on foot, and last even longer in weather like this. City-boy probably wasn't even factoring in the rain, or walking through Grimmlands, so it was probably closer to three or four. That could be anywhere from half a day to a full day's diversion, depending how out of the way it was.
Still, travelling like this was always a case of risk and time management. In this case, the potential gains would far outweigh the risk of it being a waste of time. If the Bullhead had gone up in flames, the food would be lost, but he figured if that were the case, they might still be able to salvage something.
Besides, there were always other things to check when it came to downed bullheads.
"Alright," Jaune agreed.
"Alright?" Ren echoed, sounding - dare he say it – just a little smug.
"Alright," Jaune echoed. "It sounds like a good plan, and you could use some more supplies." He gave a pointed look to the canteen and flares in Ren's hands and pockets, and the general lack of anything useful other than pockets to put them in. "At the very least it might have some medical bags. Which direction was it in again?"
Ren pointed, looking not-so-subtly pleased with himself. Jaune realised why instantly, and bit down on his frustration.
It was to the south.
/-/
Ren knew his companion didn't like him. It was clear in every word he said, the clipped manner in which he said it, and the irritated looks he received every now and then, whenever Jaune thought he wasn't watching. He was, of course. He always watched. It was the best way to learn about someone and what they thought. For instance, he knew Jaune was upset at the idea of crossing back through the territory he'd already ventured. The reason was obvious, and perfectly understandable. He was afraid of the Grimm.
That was fine, of course. There were few enough people in the world who weren't, and the hunter had done well to manage himself long enough to find Ren, let alone survive out here as he was. For someone who had no Huntsman training and likely no aura to speak of, it was an absolute miracle – a feat of incredible luck.
But that luck might soon turn as dry as Ren was wet.
Will I be able to protect both him and myself? Ren wondered, eyeing his silent companion through the constant drizzle. It was a worrying question. The Grimm had been kept away so far, mostly due to his efforts, but he was worried that might change if they stumbled on one. The rain was already limiting their visibility, and their ability to hear. That was no doubt helping them with Grimm, but would make it harder for them as well. Panic could set in the best of men, and this was no time for the hunter to run away blindly in the rain, least of all when Ren was struggling with his own fatigue and hunger. Three days on limited rations had not helped him much, and called to mind darker times
Such miserable memories might have attracted the Grimm, but were quickly washed away like oil atop water. They found no foothold and were forgotten.
He would just need to keep his eyes open and prepare to fight if needed, he decided. While Jaune might have been wary of the southern pass, Ren wasn't sure the alternative was any less risky. At times like this, moving closer to civilisation was the goal. Jaune's intended route would move them further away from it. This was for the best. All his training said so. They had to do things by the book, not risk things on winging it.
"I see something ahead," Jaune suddenly whispered, drawing Ren's attention. He strained his eyes for signs of grey or black, either the hull – burned out or not – against the dripping greenery of the forest.
"I don't see anything."
The hunter sighed. "Why am I not surprised?" he muttered, before pointing up. "The trees ahead had parts of their canopy torn off." He pointed, indicating tree limbs clearly torn off, which Ren could only see after squinting through the drizzle coming down through the canopy. "Nevermore avoid flying through canopy this thick, but something broke that off and it sure wasn't the local wildlife. You can also see the sky through there," he pointed to another hole in the leaves. "The plants here fight for sunlight, so trees wouldn't leave that naturally."
"You think it might be the Bullhead?" Ren asked, catching on quickly. Now that the signs had been pointed out, they felt obvious, and he saw a few other cases of damage leading off in the direction they'd been travelling. Miraculously, no trees had been brought down, which suggested the pilot had been trying to duck and weave between them.
Ren remembered the pilot telling him he was going to try to lose the Nevermore. He hadn't had time to ask how.
"It might be. We should be careful, though. This is too close to where the idiots I was with before ended up fighting."
"Cardin?"
"And his merry band of Beacon bastards," Jaune answered, as dismissive as ever. Ren didn't rise to the insult, thinking it was appropriate in this case. "It was like they were trying to attract the Grimm with how nervous they were, and how much noise they were making."
None of which was probably their fault, Ren imagined. Three out of four members of that team wore heavier armour, and they were all of them focused on more direct means of combat. He could understand why Jaune would be nervous about such things, of course. As a civilian without aura, he had no real means of protecting himself aside from a lucky shot from his bow. The loud and raucous members of Team CRDL must have been a terrifying proposition. They could fight the Grimm easily enough, but it would only take one lucky Nevermore to put Jaune in danger.
"I'm not like them," he promised, hoping to keep the other man calm. "You don't have to worry."
Jaune shot him a look that could be best described as unconvinced, but Ren let it go. It was clear he was used to trusting himself and only himself, and words would have little effect. It was enough that he was already helping to protect the civilian in his own way, even if he might never know it. Not the most impressive demonstration by someone talked up so much, but perhaps it was for the best.
Whatever faults he had, one thing Ren would admit was that Jaune knew how to move silently. He was light-footed himself, especially compared to the others of Team JNPR and RWBY, but Jaune put that to shame, managing a level of haste and stealth that impressed even him. He made more noise trying to keep up, but he was quiet enough that the hunter didn't complain.
"I take it stealth is your forte," Ren said, if only to allow some conversation to distract from the rain. He kept his voice low, of course, and after a brief glare, the hunter replied.
"Animals are skittish, even in the Grimmlands. You learn to be quiet."
"And does that work for the Grimm, as well?"
"I'm still alive, aren't I?"
He nodded, conceding the point. "I'm surprised you were able to make it through in the past on just that. When it comes to Grimm, the old adage of `you can run but you can't hide` is usually true."
"For normal people, perhaps. I'm a hunter."
But not a Huntsman, Ren thought. He'd made that mistake already, and nearly had his head bitten off for it. "What is the difference?" he asked instead.
Jaune looked at him, but sensing no scorn answered civilly enough. "Most people see the Grimm as the ultimate predators. It's us against the world, and Grimm mean death. They're afraid, and the sight of the Grimm makes it even worse. They draw the things like moths to a flame."
"And hunters are different?"
"Yes."
"How?"
"We're the hunters, not the hunted. We stalk our quarry, and then brings them down as efficiently as possible. No waste, no dramatics, just the hunt and the kill – and always for the right cause. Food, fur, bone… never sport. We follow our code."
He wasn't sure he understood. "And that means the Grimm don't care about you?"
"It means they struggle to find me," Jaune said, eyes focused ahead. "I'm the predator, not the prey. Grimm go after the latter."
Prey – a word that denoted the hierarchy between creatures, particularly on the food chain. Ren caught the reference, and understood it after a second's thought. The average person considered themselves to be prey for the Grimm, and so reacted like any prey animal would in the wild, running and cowering in fear, or trying to hide away in a burrow. The Grimm sought out such emotions, however, following them with more accuracy than any scent or sound.
It was an interesting philosophy, but he wasn't sure how far he believed it. One couldn't simply turn off their fear, let alone change thousands of years of cultural history at the drop of a hat. Similarly, Jaune had already expressed fear over the Grimm, hence his determination to avoid the Southern Pass.
Bravado, perhaps? He wondered. It might have its place, since even false arrogance is preferable to terror when trying to avoid a Beowolf. If he is trying to bolster his confidence, and mine, with such words, then it might be a method of controlling his panic.
In that regard, he shouldn't question it overmuch. Doubt would only draw him into question, and that might cause a crack in the Hunter's confidence.
"I see," he said, hiding a small smile that threatened to rise despite the rain. "Neither of us are prey here, then."
It was best to play along.
His companion nodded. "Let's hope that continues-" He paused, voice cutting off. Ren knew something was wrong instantly, for Jaune lowered, knees bending as though ready to run at any moment. He strained his own ears but heard nothing.
"What is-?"
Jaune slashed a hand before him, the universal sound for silence, and Ren ended his words immediately. Even if he was the Huntsman, Jaune had proven himself when it came to tracking and awareness.
Cautiously, Ren crept his way over to stand beside the man. He wanted desperately to speak but refrained, holding even his breath in lest it distract the man.
"Down," Jaune whispered, his voice so incredibly low that for a second he thought he might have imagined it. "Get down," he repeated. "Slowly." He followed the words with action and example, gently crouching, and then pressing himself down into the mud beneath some brush.
After a brief moment of hesitation Ren did the same, emulating the other as best he could and ignoring the distaste of muddying his wet but otherwise clean clothes. After a second or two, it was just the two of them, faces close together and hands pressed down against the ground. With bushes on either side of them, they were well-hidden, but the position wasn't a good one should it come to combat. He would be all but defenseless.
"What is it?" Ren whispered.
Jaune's eyes were firm, but also cautious. "He's here."
"Who?"
"Mouk."
The Ursa? From what he understood it was a large specimen, but that was no reason for such a delay. His hand fell into his sleeve, gripping one of his weapons and drawing it out. Jaune noticed, and quickly shook his head.
It's fine, Ren mouthed. Now that he concentrated, he could hear the tell-tale sound of heavy breathing approaching – the sound of an Ursa. He tensed his muscles and prepared. An ambush would be a quick and effective way to end this, and while his position laid flat wasn't optimal, he could adapt. With a quiet breath, he narrowed his eyes and readied himself, looking a little further out.
There, down the hill - well down the valley, at the base of a hill - was an Ursa that might have been above medium size.
Ren restrained a sigh. Really? This was the legendary Mouk? Maybe it was a little bit bigger than the ones in the Emerald Forest, but it didn't even have the spikes of an Ursa Major.
"That's it? That's the great Mouk?" he whispered, sarcasm slipping in.
Jaune didn't seem to notice, looking forward with a laser-focus. "Yeah," he whispered back.
Ren couldn't believe it. Even out here, there had to be bigger Grimm. Older at the very least. Something more formidable than this cub.
Was his missing something? Were the bushes blocking his sight of the real threat?
"The one right there? At the base of the hill?" Ren tried to specify.
"What hill?"
Ren turned back to point out the obvious… and saw the forest instead of the trees when some of those trees snapped like twigs in the face of an unstoppable force.
Mouk stirred.
It… It was an Ursa… but only in the same foolish way one might call a mansion a house. The forest concealed most of it, but beyond the black mass in the forest saw a snout – as large as a Bullhead itself, and poking through the tree canopy above and ahead of them. It's giant nose, the size of a car at least, hovered several meters off the ground, and when it inhaled, the top of the trees bent towards it, as if they were being pulled away.
Stormflower slipped from his nerveless fingers. This… It wasn't possible. This was no Ursa, nor even a Goliath. It was bigger than even that, with a mask the size of a small house, and he could only see its nose and a brief expanse of its face. Terrible scratches could be seen over the visible right eye socket, the eye itself sealed shut and scarred over with melted skin a thick tar in colour.
What could he even hope to do? If he tried his hardest he might be able to reach its nose – but then what? Did he stab it?
Would his bullets even pierce deep enough into its skin to draw blood? Would his blades even scratch its mask?
His heart hammered in his chest. With a loud grunt that rattled his bones, the snout turned in their direction, almost seeming to home in on them with unerring accuracy. They had to move. They had to run! He made to do so, pushing down with one hand – only to gasp as another pushed down on the back of his head, slamming his face into the sticky wet mud.
Mouk froze.
Ren did, too, paralyzed by fear.
"Calm," Jaune hissed, his mouth so close to Ren's ear he could feel his breath. "Stay calm."
In the face of that? How could he-
Wait, the creature was blind! The eye that was scarred over couldn't see them, and it only turned in their direction once he'd panicked. Swallowing his fear, he focused on his body, drawing his aura close around him. The fear he'd felt a second earlier washed away, leaving nothing behind but an empty, sterile hole where his emotions had once been. Even his eyes dulled as the familiar feeling took over, and his muscles relaxed
The monstrous Grimm snorted and snarled, its nose twisting in their general direction, but with less certainty, less direction. Beneath it the small Ursa- most certainly not Mouk- looked agitated, and sniffed the ground intently. Being upwind, it was far too far away to find anything. As the seconds ticked by, Jaune's hand loosened on the back of his head, trusting Ren to stay calm.
If it weren't for his Semblance, he wasn't sure he'd be able to.
And that brought another shock. In that moment of shock and horror, he'd let slip his control – allowing his emotions to show. While he'd recovered quickly, he hadn't thought to put it back over his companion. Concerned, he looked up to see how the hunter was taking it.
Jaune's lips were thin, his eyes thinner, focused on the force that could have devoured them and a portion of the land about them in a single bite. But while his knuckles gripped the ground tightly, they weren't white. The Hunter barely moved, and instead took long and slow breaths, letting each go after a near-silent exhale.
The beast chuffed and snuffled, but eventually lost interest and made to leave – not on two legs, but four, and yet still easily rising above the canopy. As Mouk departed in giant steps, the mini-Ursa behind loped after, running just to keep up with the massive beast's steady steps.
Only as it left, in the middle of a valley with ridgelines on either side, Ren could finally get a true feeling for its size. Only its haunches could be seen above the already tall tree line, but even then, it was beyond anything he'd ever seen before. Beyond anything he'd ever heard of. When it lumbered away, he heard faint sounds in the distance. The Ursa was so gargantuan that its footsteps echoed, even as it brushed past trees and no doubt knocked some over. Only the most inopportune conditions, or the most distracted individuals, could have been caught unawares by this thing.
The silence it left behind was tense. Jaune moved back, pushing up into a crouch and letting out another long breath. Ren's was less controlled and more an explosive sigh of relief.
"What was that?" he gasped.
"Mouk," Jaune answered. "Duke of the Lunar Mountains – the Moon Ursa."
"It has a name!?" Ren gasped, forgetting in the moment that he'd already known. "Why does it have a name? And why Mouk?"
"Because it deserves one, and Big Bastard was already taken," Jaune said, standing and wiping down his pant legs. "I'll explain more later. Come on, we should get a move on. The Bullhead must be close. I wonder if it was that he was looking for."
Ren could only stare at the man, still trying to process not only what he'd seen, but how it slotted into his understanding of the world at large. Grimm did not grow that large. They simply didn't. Everything he knew, everything he'd read, would have called such a thing an impossibility. Everyone knew the Kingdoms would have culled such monsters before they could reach an age and size that they could threaten the Kingdom walls. And yet there it had been – as undeniable as the sun and moon themselves.
What he understood even less was the other man's reaction. Caution, yes, concern, undoubtedly, but fear? There was none on his face. Instead there was a grim determination that spoke of something far scarier.
"This isn't the first time you've seen that… thing," Ren realized.
"Mouk? Ran into him last night with your friends, but I've seen him a few times before, as well." He shrugged it off as if it was no big deal. Instead, seeing Ren still too shocked to move, he extended a hand to help him up.
"That thing lives around here?" Ren asked.
"He's the Duke for a reason. His territory is normally a little ways south, but it looks like he's expanded it since. Recently too, or else we would have seen more signs of his passing."
He paused, and narrowed his eyes as he looked in the distance Mouk had trod off in. A bit of rain ran down his face, but that didn't seem to be the cause of his creased brow.
"This… might be a bit inconvenient."
Ren tried not to scoff, or laugh, at the understatement.
"Inconvenient? Try impossible! How do people live out here if something like that is nearby?"
"They… don't. This is the Grimmlands, remember?" Jaune said, hauling Ren up and turning away. "This is Mouk's domain. No one lives here without his permission, and he's not the most forgiving lord when it comes to trespassers."
Jaune strode on as though the encounter hadn't been an issue, but it took Ren a second to gather his legs and chase after. "Still, outside his lands the Grimm out here are nothing special, and he almost never leaves the valleys. Back before the frontier out here was abandoned, the best games and herbs could be poached from his lands, and you could usually get through if you knew the trick. That was a while ago, though," Jaune waved off. "Now, though… he's riled up. Probably from yesterday, or even your crash landing. He's up and roaming, and that's not something I want to deal with."
"Is that…" Ren paused to gather himself. "Is he the reason you didn't want us to take the southern path?"
Jaune avoided his gaze for a moment, gritting his teeth in obvious reluctance, before nodding.
"He's a reason. The rest of the Grimm in his domain are no joke either, and if any of them raised an alarm he'd come running. It usually not hard to tell when you're in his territory - just look for the paths of broken trees - but he'll run for leagues if he needs to. That's what my Uncle always said, at least."
Leagues? It probably wouldn't take him long to arrive either. Ren tried to imagine how many meters each stride from such a large Ursa would be… and shivered. This was no slow monster they could rush past and leave behind. It certainly wasn't something to fight. Which left… sneaking? Not just past the moving mountain, but everything else? Ren looked back in the direction it had left. Mountain valleys, or foot hills, further than the eye could see. Each ridge a small hide to cross. Each barrier a mere dozen steps for… that thing. And as big as it was, the hills were even taller, meaning that it could be in the next valley and you'd never know unless you heard… or it peeked over.
Ridgelines might have been an obstacle to most Grimm. This one would barely be slowed. The path to the south was closed… and as much as he hated to admit it, Jaune had warned him.
He'd simply failed to heed it, dismissing such thoughts of a Grimm with a name as silly rural fantasy. But who could blame him, coming to face… that?
I'm still the Huntsman, Ren reminded himself. It's still my responsibility to save us both. I can't lose control now.
He could still salvage this. They could still make good time getting back. Jaune's experience would be more important than he thought, if it let him remain calm about this sort of thing. If he really knew the borders of Mouk's territory, then they could still go around it to go south. It would be more of a detour than he wanted, but it wouldn't be impossible. He could accept a buffer between him and Mouk.
Maybe that'd been Jaune's plan from the start. Avoid the Grimm at all cost. In this particular case, he could accept the hunter's point… even if it was from a civilian's sense of self-preservation. Just because it wasn't a result of training didn't mean it was wrong.
"Hey, city-boy, you coming?" Jaune called from a bit head, looking back. He looked as irritated as ever, impatient but not afraid. "Your bullhead can't be far now."
"Understood," Ren returned, jogging to catch up. As he did he centred himself, extending his calm to himself and to his guide. Jaune kept frowning for a moment, but the slightest negative expression slide from his face. Soon Jaune turned, taking lead, or at least thinking he was leading.
Ren watched carefully, both his guide and for any Grimm, and stretched his sense of serenity to encompass them both. He'd need his guide safe and sound if he was to guide him back. He'd need Jaune's experience to know the exact borders of Mouk's domain, and when to head south. And for that, he'd need to protect his guide with everything he had.
Even as his right eyelid wanted to close- even as his focus strained at the extension- he'd be calm enough for both of them, to stay safe in these Grimm lands. Mouk was just an obstacle, not the end of the road. Obstacles could be bypassed. He could still get them back safe if he made the right calls.
I have to. I'm the Huntsman. It's up to me whether we survive or not.
He looked at the distance, beyond any massive Grimm and towards those he knew were waiting.
Wait for me, everyone. I'll be back as soon as I can.
/-/
When Jaune had said it wasn't much further, Ren had assumed that meant they were close. Instead it took another half-hour to find the fallen Bullhead, rain keeping up all the while.
They weren't moving as fast as Ren would have liked to. Much of that time was spent creeping and working their way through dense forest and uneven terrain, and for once Ren made no attempt to hurry his companion. After the near-encounter with Mouk, he was a bit more willing to go at Jaune's pace. He was all too aware that too much noise and attention might summon Mouk once more. Eventually, however, they neared a clear break in the canopy, and Jaune cursed angrily behind a bush.
"It's compromised," he whispered. "We should fall back."
Ren glanced over his shoulder and saw the Bullhead. Small mercies, it was intact. Clearly unflyable, with one engine clearly destroyed, but otherwise clearly intact, like a toy someone placed in the middle of the forest. If there had been any doubt before, there was almost certainly something to be salvaged now.
But Ren also counted three Beowolves and an Ursa loitering near the bullhead, none of them any larger than the kind that might have been found in the Emerald Forest. At least in that regard, there was still some normality out here.
"There are only four of them. I can handle them," Ren assured, sounding calm. He didn't need any help, or wayward civilians, to deal with these sorts of Grimm.
"There are only four you can see," Jaune returned. "There could be forty nearby, or four hundred the next valley over. It's not these four I'm worried about."
"You want to give up the supplies?" Ren asked, surprised. After the time they'd taken getting here? His guide had accepted the risks coming here in the first place If there was a time to back out, it should have been before they started. The supplies were right in front of them- and there were other opportunities as well.
His father had once told him that in the old tongue, 'crisis' was the same as 'opportunity.' Grimm reinforcements would be bad, especially Mouk, but not as bad as Jaune might believe. Ren still had his trump-card, after all.
If they were able to grab the supplies AND lure Mouk here… then they could use the distraction to slip around and past the troublesome mountain. With Mouk and his hoard distracted up north, the south should open up. The straight shot to civilization would be open to them.
Even before he could verbalize those thoughts, Jaune was already shaking his head.
"Salvage won't do us any good if we're dead. Too much risk of them raising an alert."
"We could take advantage of that, though," Ren began to explain, exerting his influence to calm his guide. "I can get us past Grimm. If we take this opportunity to gather them all here…"
Jaune was already glowering. "Are you stupid?" he hissed, fighting against Ren's influence. "That is the stupidest-"
One of the Beowolves growled, stepping out from under the meagre shelter of the bullhead.
Both boys ducked lower into the bush. This time when Ren grabbed for his Stormflowers, Jaune didn't stop him. Instead, Jaune reached for his own bow, taking it off his shoulder for the first time all day. For a moment, they both held their breath, and Ren focused his energy as best he could. Nothing interesting here, nothing but sterile, emotionless land…
The Beowolf glared at nothing, and took a deep sniff. With a lazy motion, it jumped to the top of the bullhead, from which it began sniffing again.
"Don't move," Jaune hissed, a hint of steel in his tone. "We're too close to back out now. We have to wait for them to drop their guard before we move."
"That's what I'm trying to say," Ren began. "Just listen to me- I can- what is it doing?" he asked, changing subject mid-sentence.
It was pretty obvious by the looks of it, though. The Beowolf that had jumped the bullhead had sniffed its way to the cockpit glass… and suddenly began scratching, clawing deep marks into the glass.
The glass was opaque, but intact. You couldn't see through it from a distance. But if you were up close, surrounded by Grimm…
Ren's eyes widened, despite his best efforts. Grimm didn't care about human vehicles, homes, or even supplies. There was only one thing they'd be interested in getting at.
"The pilot!" Ren realized in barely a whisper as the Beowolf's scratches got more and more frantic.
"What?" Jaune asked, slow on the uptake.
"It's after the pilot!" Ren whispered, horridly getting up. He readied his Stormflowers, no longer caring about perfect silence. They still had full clips. Good.
"What? No it isn't! Wait-" Jaune began, futilely trying to drag Ren back down.
Ren wouldn't be stopped. Not for this. There was no time to argue, and no time for a plan either. He mentally measured the distance from here to there. Too many meters, and too many Grimm, to keep them both safe. He'd have to push himself further than he ever had before, if only for a moment.
"Idiot, listen. How could someone still be there after three days!?" Jaune whispered frantically, even as he too began to raise.
Because he was still alive after three days, Ren wanted to say, and that meant someone else could be as well. Especially if they had a Bullhead's worth of supplies to rely on. The cockpit and hull were in one piece and relatively well-armoured, which meant the pilot could have locked himself inside and awaited rescue.
Rescue that wouldn't come if Ren refused to do his duty.
"Stay here," he whispered to Jaune, gripping his shoulder and pushing down with a Huntsman's worth of force. Jaune's civilian body had no choice but to go back down. While Ren trusted his guide's instincts more than he had before, this was now Huntsman business. "You'll be safe if you stay still, so stay here. I'll handle this."
Jaune didn't seem to agree, staring at him with wide eyes. "Stay-? Are you an idio- hey, wait!"
Ren didn't, already moving. Speed was key, not only to catch the Grimm off-guard but to save the pilot. All thoughts of using the bullhead as bait were gone- there'd be no chance of breaking fast past the Grimm with a second (potentially wounded) civilian. Unlike a hunter, a pilot would have no special skills to survive these wilds.
Speed and stealth were paramount. But with his attention already stretched keeping Jaune unnoticeable, stealth would be moot in moments. This needed to be done, clean and fast, before the Moon Ursa could even get a chance to come back. No time for playing around.
The lone Ursa was the one to hear his footsteps. That was all it heard, and it only managed to turn halfway around before Ren slid under its feet, slashing both its knees and sending it toppling back. He swept up and caught its chest half-way, riding it down and using the momentum to drive Stormflower's small blades across it's throat, nearly (but not quite) disembowelling it.
It died almost instantly, never having a chance to give out more than a gurgle. But the sound of its body hitting the ground alerted the Beowolves.
Ren was already moving – kicking off the rapidly dissolving corpse and spinning in the air. Reaching the apex of his arch, he aimed his weapons at the first Grimm on the top of the bullhead, but hesitated at the last second. Jaune's face appeared in his mind, and the constant reminders for silence.
Gunfire would surely doom them.
An arrow would not, though, and a supremely lucky shot went beneath him. Jaune was intent on helping after all, it seemed, much to Ren's annoyance. Before he could target the next Grimm, he had to re-adjust his semblance focus towards the other boy. But the civilian's best intentions helped a little, at least, as that shot- that lucky shot- pierced the throat of the Beowolf that had climbed atop the Bullhead. Instead meeting Ren's descent with a swipe mid-air and a battle cry, the Beowolf barely whimpered as it grasped for its throat before falling backwards and over the far side of the Bullhead. Two down.
But Ren wasn't out of danger yet, as he landed back on the ground near the wings. Beneath the wing- hidden from his sight when he was in the air- was another of the Beowolves. It was already slashing with an arm in his direction as he landed, catching him before he could guard himself.
Its claws caught his midriff and launched him to the side. Aura flared on his stomach, and again on his back as he hit the bullhead. It didn't flare the third time, because he grunted and ducked under the claws that would have scythed across his neck. They scratched against the bullhead instead, leaving an ugly screech of nails on metal, and creating the loud sound of the battle.
Ren grimaced, and not just at the noise in his ear.
With the beast over-extended, however, he was able to place a hand on the back of its elbow, pushing the arm across its own body, and driving his knife up and under its armpit. It started to roar in pain, and at least until he drew his blade out and sliced its throat, silencing its death throes. The maneuver meant dropping one of his Stormflowers for the moment, but the free hand also allowed him to toss this monster towards the third and last Beowolf trying to sneak up on him.
The Beowolf jumped, dodging the thrown corpse, and landing on the Bullhead canopy.
Ren felt a shiver of fear in his soul as he ran into a leap, trying to reach the final Beowolf as fast as possible. It snarled, and slammed its claws down, maybe to prepare to meet him half-way or maybe pounding at the class between it and the pilot. The glass cracked, and Ren forced his muscles just that little bit further. Please, he begged his tired and aching body, let me save him!
The Beowolf smashed its paw down again, and this time the glass buckled inwards. Ren's heart slammed into his throat. He was too far away. He was too far away. He wouldn't close the distance in time.
He threw Stormflower.
His weapons weren't designed to be throwing knives, but could serve as spinning blades in a pinch. The machine-pistol-knife flew like a discus, or maybe a frisbee, straight at the monster-dog's mouth. Like any good-bad dog, it bit instinctively.
It's head almost split in two for its troubles, it's jaw almost cut off at the hinge. It seemed surprised for a moment, tongue lolling around in confusion, before the baleful red eyes began to fade. He'd done it.
Ren was so focused on the dying Beowolf, he never noticed the other until it tackled him midair.
A fourth Beowolf, and he hadn't even realised there was a fourth, tackled him mid-air, taking him by total surprise. Before he even hit the ground, his mind was racing. It must have been on the far side, where we couldn't see it - but those thoughts would do him little good when he'd land.
Beowolves are quite capable at fighting and slashing as a pack, but at their most dangerous they are pouncing predators. A full-grown Beowolf weighs considerably more than a man, even Professor Port. A direct leap would knock almost anyone down, and the Beowolf landing above them would be uniquely situated in a dominant position, able to rain down devastating slashes at the dazed and defending person below. A defender would be trapped between the legs, and struggle to reach up to hit the Beowolf. The Beowolf would have maximum range of movement to rip or claw or bite. It was a position no Huntsman wanted to be in, and one reason Beacon trained hand-to-hand against other Hunters and humanoids in general. The weapons changed, but some things didn't- a dominant position was dominant whether you were swinging a mace or flesh-rending claws.
Ren was about to be on the receiving end of that, without a single blade left to defend himself with.
I can't get hurt, he thought even as his back hit the ground. Not like this. His head hit the ground soon after. Maybe it was hard enough for a concussion. It took all the focus he had to stay focused and not lose consciousness. He instinctually drew in his semblance, pulling it around him as best he could. He raised his arms to guard his face, Miss Goodwitch's combat training coming back by instinct alone. His world narrowed to just him. I have to save them. The hunter. The pilot. I'm the Huntsman. I have to save-
The Beowolf was already above him, raising a claw for a slash that would cut through his feeble guard in a single blow. It snarled, and no amount of sterile emptiness would hide him from its spite.
The world seemed to grey as his semblance enveloped him, too late to matter. Fear for survival was replaced by emptiness, and other things.
I'm sorry, everyone. I'm sorry, Nora. I'm sorry…
The Beowolf stopped, startled. Not at the name that passed through his lips, but at the wooden shaft now piercing through its chest. Right where a heart would be, if Grimm even had hearts, was a single arrow. The Beowolf was as shocked as he, so focused on him it forgotten everything else. It paused for a second… and then one paw slowly came up to touch the shaft, as though to question from whence it had come. A faint whistle sounded and a second buried itself into the creature, this time in its left eye, piercing deep into whatever the thing might call a brain.
With a tired gurgle, the creature staggered away from Ren and fell backwards, slamming into the soft grass.
Ren sat up, heart pounding. Jaune came jogging from the bushes. His bow was in his hand- another arrow already knocked- and the best that could be said about how he looked was that he was neither injured or about to gloat
Ren stared at the civilian hunter, wide-eyed. That first shot had been no fluke. "You- you saved me. You-"
"You," Jaune cut him off, tone incredibly cross, "are a fucking idiot. Don't they teach anything at that fancy school of yours?" he cussed. Ren was still gathering his wits, and not exactly in a state to disrupt the diatribe. "Of course there could have been more Grimm besides what we could see. You didn't give me a chance to check the far side. You didn't even let me set a diversion to draw them off. What were you thinking?"
Ren's head was still ringing, and he brought a hand to his face not in shame but to stop the world from swimming.
"I didn't think we had time," Ren said, more honest than defending. "They were trying to get to the pilot. I couldn't stand by and do nothing.
"You thought you were just going to charge on in there in try and save somebody you don't even know - don't you even know - are you crazy?" Jaune asked, too many questions competing. "And who do you think you are, charging in alone and leaving me behind like that? Are you seriously trying to protect me from the Grimm?"
"I'm a Huntsman. It's what we do."
As soon as the words left his mouth, Ren regretted them. Call them a moment of weakness and a sign of his still-spinning head, he knew they were the wrong choice. His guide… his guide wasn't helpless. The hunter's shots had been no fluke. He hadn't believed it at the time, but he should have. A hunter who hunted game- real game, not stationary targets- by bow and arrow would need to be a good shot. He should have kept that in mind. Instead he'd stepped back in a hornet's nest, and no doubt wounded the other boy's pride.
But nothing followed.
When he looked, he saw Jaune looking back, eyes wide. For the first time since meeting him, it was Jaune who was speechless. Jaune's eyes were wide, and there was a look that could only be called shock on his face, before he huffed if away and took a deep breath.
No recriminations emerged.
"Fine," Jaune Arc grit out, looking away from Ren and letting loose a large breath as he said it. "Just don't do it again, got it? Worry about yourself first, not me. I can't keep saving you if you don't protect yourself, understand?"
Ren didn't answer, but Jaune didn't seem to be looking for one. He turned away from Ren, and towards the Bullhead, and started making his way there briskly.
"Be quick. We don't have much time to scavenge. I don't think they got a real alert off, but it something might have heard that scrape against the metal. We don't want to be here when their packs come to investigate either." He paused at the door to the bullhead, right beneath the wing, and turned to speak over his shoulder without meeting Ren's eyes directly.
"And… good job, aiming for the throats like that. Keeping them from calling for help bought us some time. Guess Beacon's good for something after all."
Jaune ducked under the wing and into the Bullhead cabin, moving with the purpose of someone who knew what they were looking for. After recovering a little while longer, Ren was left to get to his feet. After collecting his Stormflowers, he approached the cockpit.
Cracked glass or not, it still hadn't opened. Even after the fight.
"Hey, are you alright?" Ren called as he walked around to where the pilot should be able to see him. "It's me, Ren! I'm sorry I'm late, but it's safe now! Can you hear me?"
Still no answer. Still the cockpit remained sealed. But, through the cracks, Ren could see a silhouette in the pilot's chair.
"Are you hurt? Signal me if you can! Or just stay calm- I'll be there in just a moment! I'm back, and it's going to be alright now!"
Still no answer. Also no cries of pain, which was good. Ren reached the external release for the canopy glass, meant for crashes just like this, and pulled it. With a hiss, the canopy glass opened automatically, and Ren clambered up a series of foot-holds, so he could see inside.
The pilot sat with a small smile on his face. He was also dead.
He was also naked- or almost- but before that it was the lack of life Ren recognized. The pilot was seated in the seat, buckled in, and with nary a scratch on him. His helmet was removed and cradled in his lap, a small scroll in it, even as his clothes were neatly folded on the dashboard. If it weren't for the lack of chest movement, the absence of breathing, he might have been asleep.
Ren's eyes widened, and he looked around, uncomprehending. But no, there were no wounds. No bloodstains on the floor. No hint of Grimm. Just some bodily signs of passing, including an odor. The man- a young man of a similar ethnicity as Ren, but maybe a decade older- was appropriately pale, even as his lips were blue and some veins stood out.
Ren fell to his knees, not understanding. "What- what is this-?"
"Suicide."
Ren almost, but not quite, leapt to his feet at the sound of Jaune's voice. He hadn't noticed the other boy climb atop the bullhead, but he had. Situated behind the cockpit, Jaune reached from behind and touched the man's neck, confirming the obvious. He didn't sound surprised.
"What? How?"
"Probably a pill of some kind, maybe medicine. I found the first-aid kit already open," he said, utterly calm despite the dead body. He was almost matter-of-fact. "A pilot stuck in the Grimmlands with no aura, no real means of defense, and no hope of rescue before the Grimm come to evacuate…" he trailed off. "He chose to go out on his own terms. Most pilots do."
Ren just shook his head in shock. "But… why?"
Jaune shot him a questioning look. "Because of the alternative?" he asked rhetorically. "Compared to the Grimm, he got a painless death. Look. He wouldn't be smiling otherwise."
Ren didn't want to look. Not at the post-mortem smile, or anything else. "No, I just don't understand why he did." He looked at Jaune, eyes urgent and desperate. "He told me to jump. He passed me that book and said to hold onto it for him and-" here Ren's breath hitched, but he continued. "He said he was going to lose the Nevermore and circle back to me. I thought he'd just found another cave to hole up in, waiting for rescue. That if we got here, I might find some sort of sign where he went." He couldn't tell Jaune's reaction at the admission of his ulterior motive. "If he wasn't going to- if he could land but was afraid of the Grimm- why did he tell me to jump? I could have stayed with him. I could have protected him."
"You would have died with him."
Jaune's words were blunt, but not cruel. An initial flash of anger died when Ren saw Jaune wasn't looking at him with contempt, but at the pilot with a torn expression.
"I think he knew that. If he'd set down with you, the Grimm would have found you immediately. You might have held them off for awhile, but they would have overwhelmed you. Mouk, if nothing else. If you jumped off, he could lead the Grimm on a merry chase while you got to safety."
Ren's breath hitched as terrible thoughts crossed his mind. Was that it? Was he the reason why? The pilot hadn't trusted the Huntsman to protect him from the Grimm? That wasn't how it was supposed to be. Huntsmen were supposed to save people from the Grimm, not be the reason they died alone in fear of them. The pilot-
The pilot…
"I never even knew his name," Ren confessed, looking aside in shame. "He probably told me, but I was distracted. I didn't think he was important. But-"
The hunter could have kicked the Huntsman while he was low. Instead, a wet, muddy hand reached forward and awkwardly put itself on his shoulder. It was the first human contact he'd had since Beacon.
"He wanted you to survive. That's why he brought the Bullhead as close to you as he could. That's why he tried to land as best he could. He could have killed himself instantly in a crash. Instead, he wanted you to find him, and this."
The hand withdrew, to bring forth what looked like a civilian tote bag. It was packed neatly with supplies- rations, first aid, flares and more. All the supplies they could have hoped to salvage from the bullhead, packed far too neatly for Jaune to have done so in such a short amount of time.
Penned to the bag was a bit of scratch paper, with a hand-scrawled note.
"I think he wanted you to read this," Jaune said.
Huntsman Lie, it read.
I hope this finds you in better health than I will be. Forgive me my deception, but I know you wouldn't have done what was needed had you known the truth. I've flown many a Beacon student, and I know your kind. It is my job to get you someplace safely, not to get you killed on my behalf. You face a trial hard enough already. You don't need someone like myself dragging you down. There are some paths only Huntsmen can tread, and the Grimmlands are among them.
I know we did not know each other long. I know you took this mission for your own reasons. There were many things I wished to ask you, about our homeland and otherwise, and there are things I believe you needed to share. I am sorry I cannot lighten your burden for you. Instead all I can do is wish you the best, and leave you these final words.
Keep moving forward.
Do not mourn me - there will be a time and a place for that later. Live for me instead. Your path out of the Grimmlands will be hard, but not impossible. You are more than a student of Beacon, with the best school and faculty to learn from. You are the man you told me of, and I believe that man is a better person than he realizes. Keep your compassion alive. Too many in this world let it fade in the face of cynicism or expedience. Do not despair. Remember the Words of the Way.
Hope is our greatest weapon against the Grimm.
I cannot wield that weapon, Lie Ren. True Huntsman are the only ones who can. But I have faith that you can be that sort of person. Take these supplies, and live. In return, I ask just one favour. When you return to Vale, please tell my loved ones that my last thoughts were of them. They will understand.
It was an honour, Huntsman.
Lee Ahn
Pilot, Beacon Academy
Ren said nothing at first. There was nothing to say. Above him, his guide stirred uncomfortably.
"You… shouldn't feel guilty. I've gone after my share of downed Bullheads in the past, and… even I haven't been able to get one back. Sometimes the best we can bring back is word of a painless death. I don't know who this guy was-"
"Ahn. His name was Lee Ahn," Ren interrupted.
There was a pause.
"…alright. I didn't know Lee Ahn, but I know he couldn't have been that bad of a person. He wanted you to live. He brought these supplies as close as he could. He even…" Jaune gestured at the body, and the neatly folded clothes off of it. "He even wanted you to give you the shirt off his back. He was that sort of person."
"And he died," Ren said.
"And he got a good death, which is all any of us could ask for," Jaune corrected. "At least he got to die with a smile on his face, thinking of family. See?" Jaune asked, pointing at the pilot's helmet which lay in his lap.
Inside it was a small collection of photos, all filled with people, all smiling. Family. Friends. Lovers? He might never know.
But Lee Ahn was still smiling, even in death.
"He died happy. He died believing he helped. He died believing you would be safe. Which is why we need to get out of here now and-"
"Alright," Ren said, rising.
Jaune blinked. His expression was a mix of surprise and scepticism. "Alright?"
"Alright," Ren repeated, looping the strap of the tote bag around his shoulder and standing. The bag, filled as it was, was heavy but not unreasonable. After gathering the folded clothes and stuffing them in as well, Ren removed a flare and dispassionately shot it straight into the cockpit. In a matter of moments flames caught, and the smell of smoke and searing flesh began to rise.
"To deny his body to the Grimm," he explained without apology, in case Jaune had any objections. There were none. "We're going back North, right?"
Jaune looked more his words than actions. "That's it?" he asked. "You going to listen now? Not going to keep nagging about going south or questioning my every move?"
Ren shook his head. Questions felt pointless now. And even if the other boy was no Huntsman, and just a mere civilian…
"You're the guide," he said instead.
…there didn't seem to be anything 'mere' about civilians right now.
"Alright," Jaune warily accepted, and stepped ahead. Ren followed. Tired as he was - at the day, at the week, and at the last five minutes and everything else that brought him to this point - he withdrew his Semblance from the man for the first time since leaving the cavern.
Nothing changed.
The sky didn't fall, hateful ravings didn't commence, and Grimm didn't start pouring out of the forest. A tired, irritable, but otherwise composed young man - no Huntsman, but a competent hunter in his own right - remained just that. Over-exerting himself with his semblance had probably been unnecessary from the start. His companion could look after himself.
He'd been doing so long before Ren got out here, after all.
"Ah," Ren said as epiphany struck him at long last.
"What?" Jaune asked, looking back with suspicion. Probably expecting another request to head south.
"Nothing," Ren said, shaking his head and denying it. "I just remembered something, that's all."
She'd always said her brother was the best Hunter on the frontier.
College Fool Note:
One of these days the chapters will be shorter… one of these days…
(At least Coeur didn't have to write all it.)
So. Welcome back to the first part of the first real arc of HoS. We are now officially past the part I'd already mostly written, and into the stuff Coeur wrote… and I added a lot on top of, because I'm bad like that. But, hey, Coeur only had to struggle through unclear directions right?
So, this chapter was important because Coeur felt (rightly) that we needed to establish a new normal between Ren and Jaune. New as in 'how this will be different from CRDL and RWBY.' Are Ren and Jaune best buddies and bros yet? Hardly. Is Ren going to be a one-man CRDL? Probably not. Are character tensions going to rise?
Oh, heck yeah.
But at least we won't be (quite) repeating the prologue.
Next chapter will bring… stuff. Stuff that may or may not include some absent faces. But why worry about then, when you can focus on today? New facts, new faces, and new hints of things to come.
(But next time will be shorter. For reals this time. Really.)
Thoughts, reviews, and feels all welcome.
/
HoS Trivia Chapter 6
If you ever happen to be in a position where you survive a plane or helicopter crash in the wilderness, staying near the aircraft crash site is the best thing you can do if you want to be found sooner than later. That may not always be the case, but assuming you're not in a world of man-eating monsters or enemy territory, it's much easier to find a downed aircraft from the air than a lone survivor in the wilderness.
Of course, our heroes ARE in a world of man-eating monsters…
Next Chapter: 2nd December
P a treon . com (slash) Coeur