Oh, my lord, this site sometimes. Due to the constant server errors yesterday making it impossible to get into my account, I had to delay this story until today. I'm sure most of you figured it out since the site would not have worked for you either.

Director: College Fool

Writer: Coeur al'Aran

Cover Art: Kegi Springfield

Chapter 14

Ren hated the rain.

It was a new discovery, really. He used to like it. Back in Beacon, or even before that when he'd had a home to call his own. It had been a fond hobby to listen to the rain falling, the musical sound as drops splashed into puddles and others fell on the roof with a constant tinkling of water on slate. It was relaxing, especially when you were warm and dry inside with a book, a window open to allow the cool and damp breeze to brush against your skin.

Mind you, that peace and solitude might get thrown out the window when Nora dragged you outside to play in a puddle or came in and made a mess after doing so on her own, but still. On balance, he'd liked the rain, or thought he did.

Turns out, he hadn't. He'd only liked the proof against the rain, of being comfortable and dry when everything else was not. It was a bit different when you were trudging through a ridiculous drizzle that couldn't seem to decide whether it wanted to be a shower or not. His skin was damp, his hair frizzy, and the two of them were in a constant state of not quite wet, but not entirely dry either. It hardly helped that the moisture continued to creep into the bandages around his leg and into his socks, dampening the wound caused by Mouk and making him ache.

Jaune, thankfully, seemed to have discovered a shred of empathy within him, for his pace – while constant – wasn't fast, and that allowed Ren to keep up without a limp. The hunter seemed at home in the rain, but in truth it was more likely his leather jacket simply insulated him better. It was made for life out here, while Ren's own weren't. Strong green had given way to wet and mud and wet mud over time, a little more with each hand wipe against the already filthy cover.

If the rain were heavier and colder he could have worn the raincoat, but it wasn't and despite the constant damp it was a humid and warm day. That, at least, was one misery Jaune must be suffering that he wasn't.

"Is it always like this out here?" he asked, hiding any hint of panting in his voice. A little weariness might have seeped through, but Jaune didn't notice it.

"It is after the monsoon season. Heavy rain fit to drown a man followed by light rain that never stops. Best time of the year."

That, at least, was a sarcasm even Ren could catch. But still, the rain wasn't likely to stop anytime soon, then. Ren felt his spirits drop a little but he remained quiet. It wasn't complaining over when he was determined not to be seen as a burden, wound or not. Even Jaune was tired, his usual quips lacking, but he was keeping up the pace over the slight but seemingly endless incline.

They trekked for another hour or two in near silence, the only words an occasional warning from Jaune over a particularly slippery piece of rock, or a pitfall he'd spotted ahead. The rain kept the Grimm sightings to a minimum, little more than the occasional shape of a Beowolf in the distance loping for cover. There were no Nevermore in the sky, a relief due to the open terrain and easy sight the two travellers would be.

But not everything could afford to hide away until the rain ended, and Jaune stopped Ren suddenly by placing a hand on his chest. "Wait a second," the hunter hissed, alert. He crouched low. Ren instinctively did the same, eyes scanning the area.

"Grimm?" he whispered.

"No. Deer." Jaune pointed ahead, over some bushes in front of them. Up the hill, on a gentle slope between two pines, a small pack of deer appeared to be grazing. There were six to eight in total, with two young and one stag in the lead. They appeared to be unbothered by the rain, or they'd been driven out by hunger. Grimm didn't need to eat, but the regular animals did. Jaune's eyes seemed to glint. "Wait here. I'll see if I can get one."

"Do we have time?" Ren asked, not opposed to the idea of a good meal and a moment's rest, but aware of the danger all around them.

"I'll take the shot as quick as I can and see how it pans out. We should be out of the worst of the Grimmlands now, so if it works it works and if it doesn't we move on." The hunter shucked off his pack, quietly placing it down, and drew his bow. He crept off into the underbrush, careful not to make any noise.

Ren sat down, ignoring the dampness of the ground as he watched Jaune creep forward. The moment's rest for his leg was welcome, even if it was clear his companion didn't intend for it to be long.

Hunting was a game of patience, or so his father had once said, and from what he knew of Jaune the man had it in spades when Huntsmen weren't involved. Still, his approach here was something less than cautious, likely because they couldn't afford for him to spend too much time on this. He kept low but moved fast, sliding down onto one knee perhaps thirty metres from the herd. The rain worked to his advantage, masking both scent and sound. The hunter slowly drew and nocked an arrow.

The herd hadn't noticed. The stag was the largest and strongest by far, a good target, but Ren was fairly sure Jaune wouldn't bother with it. The chances of bringing it down in a single arrow were low and if he was still using the improvised arrows from the cave, then they wouldn't really hold up to a game hunter's standards. The young deer would be an easier kill, though a smaller target by far and with less meat.

Jaune chose one of the doe instead, slowly standing up from behind a bush and drawing the arrow so that the flight brushed against his cheek. Ren held his breath, even as Jaune let it out in one slow motion and released.

The arrow pierced into the flank of a doe with its head to the ground. It struck near the neck, above the point where the ribcage ended. The entire pack's heads perked up, but as the female staggered and stumbled, Jaune leapt from the bushes.

The stag fled, leading the herd away and leaving the doe behind to die. It crumpled before Jaune reached it, though Ren saw the hunter draw a knife and slit its throat quickly nonetheless, saving it what agony he could.

The coast clear, Ren descended down toward the kill, dragging both bags as Jaune started to carve into the unfortunate animal, tearing through fur and skin and sectioning off choice cuts of meat. He worked fast, expertly, and didn't blink at the nauseous smell or sight of fresh red blood on his hoodie. Already some of it was running off it like the rain on the treated leather.

"That was a good shot," Ren complimented.

"Good for a stone arrow," Jaune conceded, "but the rain helped me out. This one was old, too. Any of the others might have been able to shake it off and escape. They'd probably still have bled out but the meat would be for the carrion and not us." The hunter grunted and held out a slab of red meat, dripping with blood. He seemed surprised when Ren took it and brought out some the ration bar wrappers, wrapping the meat up as best he could. "Huh. I expected you to be more squeamish."

"Over a little blood?" Ren asked.

Jaune shrugged. "I guess? Most city-folk are, at least the first time. Even miners don't see the inside of a butcher shack that often."

"It's not my first time, and I didn't always get my food from a store." Ren recalled his father fondly. "I've seen animals butchered before. It's not pretty but it's a necessity. I can help if you need it." He showed one of his blades for emphasis.

Jaune, for once, actually looked impressed. "I'll have to take you up on that sometime. Still, not much point here. We need to keep moving, and don't have the time or means to store all this." He stood a second later, leaving much of the carcass behind, but not before bringing his hands together and bending his head in a brief but obvious prayer. "I wish we didn't have to waste this much, or to waste the poor thing, but we need what we can carry. Sorry," he finished, apologizing to the dear.

"Some other animal will finish this," Ren said. "It didn't die for no reason."

"True." Jaune slapped his hands together again before wiping them against the damp grass, leaving streaks of red across green. He dried them on his pants, which were as wet and muddy as Ren's. "We'll cook those up tonight. Call it a celebratory meal after what just happened in the mountain pass."

"A celebration? You're in a surprisingly good mood."

"Well we did just survive Mouk. Hell, we maybe even beat him." The hunter shook his head, still surprised at the fact. "I think that deserves a proper night's rest and a good meal. Don't you?"

Even if he didn't share his companion's enthusiasm over besting Mouk, there was no denying the appeal of what he'd suggested. "I certainly wouldn't say no. Maybe you can tell me a few more of the legends about this place."

"Interested now? I thought you called them silly folk tales."

"That was before I saw Mouk with my own eyes," he said, conceding the point. "I'm much more open to the idea now, I think."

Jaune laughed, clearly in too good a mood to really be offended. "Sure. I'll see if I can't think up some good ones as we travel. This corner of the frontier is filled with them. I'll see what I can do once we reach a good place to camp."

Ren nodded, and the rest of the journey was filled mostly with silence.

/-/

If there was one thing Qrow hated, it was emotional teenagers.

Make no mistake, he'd been one once, and caused others enough trouble that they wouldn't let him forget it but dealing with them wasn't quite as easy – especially not when it was on a topic as sensitive as a missing teammate. He could remember his own pain when Summer died, not to mention Taiyang's. Having it happen at seventeen just felt even crueller.

But letting the poor bastard's partner get herself killed would be a poor way to remember the kid. And it didn't take a genius to know that was exactly what would happen if Nora Valkyrie – as compromised as she was – wandered out alone into the Grimmlands. He didn't know much about this Ren guy, but he'd hazard a guess he wouldn't want his childhood friend to die.

A shame she didn't see it that way.

"You're going to abandon Ren!?" she practically bellowed. Or shouted, the distinction was pretty close. "No! I won't accept it!"

"Accept it or not, but it's the fact of what's happening," Qrow said. The girl's teammate was beside her, looking just as upset but at least a little more understanding. The Nikos girl was resigned. It wasn't fair, but nothing was in a situation like this.

"Everyone tried their hardest to find your teammate," he said, speaking a little more kindly. "No effort was spared, and two teams risked their lives. I'm sorry, but sometimes these things don't work out, and we can't afford to send more people in." Or wouldn't, as the case might be.

"Then let me go!"

"I doubt your friend would forgive me if I did that."

Nora recoiled, as if she'd been slapped. Her mouth opened to argue but no sound came forth. It looked like he'd struck a nerve and from the way the redhead nodded sadly, it was an accurate summation on his part.

"If he's watching down on us you know he'd be shouting at you not to do something rash," he went on. "If not him or yourself, then at least think of your team. Can they really afford to lose another teammate? I know it's hard; I lost my teammate, too. All you can do is move on and fight in their memory. Never let their ideals or their memory out of your heart."

"NO!" Something snapped. The girl's eyes flashed. "Stop talking like he's already dead!"

"Why should I?" Qrow challenged, knowing common sense had failed and giving the girl the excuse she needed. "There's no chance your kid is alive anymore, let alone the guide that CRDL lost. No one survives past the golden hours in the Grimmlands for a reason. If he wanted to be alive so badly, he wouldn't have gone running out there on his own without you."

The gasp from beside him told him his instinct hit close to home. The other hint came in the form of a fist lunging for his face. Qrow stepped back on instinct, twisting his body to the side to let it pass. She was open on her flank – well, she was open everywhere, to be fair. He didn't bother taking it. Instead, he let her recover and launch another attack, a vicious right hook filled with pent up rage. He let it slam into his forearm, flexing his aura. He could have dodged, but she needed this.

She continued to shout and accuse, lashing out with both fists at him. What did he know? Why didn't he go out to save Ren? Her teammate made to step in but he waved her off with a hand and a stern look. She stood in the background, watching helplessly as her friend attacked a huntsman far older and far more experienced than her. Any other might have knocked her down and shown her what for, but he let it happen.

It took a while for her to lose what energy she had. From the little sleep and less food, he was surprised she lasted so long. His aura had tanked, though not enough to be a danger. He shook one arm in the air and winced at the bruises he could feel forming. She packed a punch that was for sure.

Nora slumped to her knees, panting for breath. Her breasts rose and fell, and she glared at him with such incredible hate. Qrow knew it wasn't aimed at him. Not really.

"Got it out of your system now?"

"I…" The girl panted for breath. "I won't give up on him… the others may have but I won't. If they'd tried harder-"

This time, he didn't hold back, and in a single movement Nora was kicked onto her back and slammed into the ground. The first, and only, offensive step he'd made during her entire barrage.

"Don't even go there," Qrow warned, more forceful than he'd been before. "What happened here is sad, I know, but blaming others? That's where it stops." He stepped off her and knelt down to her level. "It hurts, I know. But everyone else is hurting too, especially your teammates. Maybe no one as bad as you, but Team RWBY nearly had someone die for your friend. Team CRDL did. Don't tell yourself they didn't try when they know just how badly they failed."

The girl's eyes watered, and she looked to the side and at the floor beneath her. There was no telling if the message had got through or not, but he knew she'd heard it. The rest was up to her. He stood and moved over to her teammate, knowing his presence wouldn't help right now.

"Keep an eye on her," he said, quietly. "You're strong, I hear. Don't be afraid to restrain her if she tries to sneak out on her own. You'll be saving her life now, no matter what she says later. Your lost teammate would want that."

"I know…" Pyrrha's face wavered but she managed to hold on. "Ren would be furious if we let something happen because of him. I'll… I'll do what I have to."

Qrow placed a hand on her shoulder and gave her the most reassuring smile he could. "Atta girl. You have to be strong for her now." Then he remembered an absence and looked around again. "Where's your other teammate? There should be three of you."

"Who cares?" the grieving girl behind him answered.

He looked to the other for an answer. Pyrrha cringed. "She… she decided it would be best to stay out of Nora's way for now," she explained. "She came from Edge and said she was going to stay at her family's home for a while.

"Makes sense. Where does she live?"

"She said it's a small commune outside the walls."

Qrow's smile froze. Outside the walls? Outside of Edge? His eyes shot in the direction of the gates. His lips drew taut, and the hand on Pyrrha's arm clutched hard. "And you thought letting her go would be a good idea?" he hissed.

Pyrrha's eyes widened at first, but she didn't lose her calm. "She said she needed to go home and get some space. I believed her. She knows the danger out here."

"That only makes it more likely she'd run off," Qrow reasoned, mind racing. "She'd think she could get away with it. Your team just lost a member, but this is exactly why it's important people not be left alone to do something they might regret-"

"She's not alone."

Qrow paused. "Excuse me?"

"She's not alone," Pyrrha repeated, maintaining a calm Qrow had been about to lose. "She hasn't been since… since everything happened. Ruby was going to bring her dinner and spend the night with her, and I checked on her earlier, but she's not alone. We're giving her space, but-" The Mistrali champion looked him in the eye and didn't back down. "She's not that sort of person. She promised she'd be back for dinner tomorrow, and I believe her."

Pyrrha held his gaze, and this time it was Qrow who backed down. He didn't know this leader from any other lady, but her partner believed enough to not be worried. That was… that could be a mistake, or it could be right. Different people grieved in different ways, and not all of them were broken when they broke down.

At the very least, Ruby would be there tonight, and she knew something about grief.

"Alright," Qrow conceded. "Maybe she won't go running into the night. But I still need to check up on her before we leave. Everyone's a mess after a loss like this, and I'm not the only one going to be taking a look at you when you get back to Beacon."

This wouldn't be another Team STRQ. He wouldn't let it be.

/-/

Ren sighed and rubbed his hands over his leg, working his fingers into the joints in an attempt to alleviate the pain. They'd finally reached their destination at last; a small copse of trees that provided enough cover from the rain for comfort, and room for Jaune to hang his traps around the camp. There was a fire busy crackling away, working to dry the clothes they still wore. The hunter crouched by it, roasting some strips of venison on sticks.

"Is something wrong with your leg?"

"Just muscle soreness," Ren lied, forcing himself to leave it be. His aura would hopefully kick in soon and start to heal it.

"We should have taken the pilot's boots for you. Those shoes can't be easy to trek in."

"They're not, but I wouldn't have felt comfortable wearing a dead man's shoes. And yes, I'm aware he wouldn't have needed them. Let's just call it a cultural difference between us."

"Alright," Jaune conceded without issue, though he did shake his head. Jaune tested the meat with a finger, wincing when a drop of fat oozed out and burned his skin. "Ow. Damn it."

"I'm sure I warned you before about being patient when you cook," Ren said, moving over. "Here, let me spice those before we eat. It won't take two minutes and your taste buds will thank me for it."

Jaune grumbled, as always, but didn't make a move to stop him. Much like with Nora, hunger won out – and Ren was confident enough in his culinary skills to know Jaune had enjoyed the previous meal. Albeit that the night after had been interrupted by their eight-legged friends.

Taking a knife from his pack, Ren cut a tiny slice into one of the steaks, checking the inside. It was pink still, but not so red as to be raw. For the sake of safety, and lacking any proper utensils, he left it until the middle cooked all the way through, eliminating all the bacteria he could. It was a little well-done by the standards of a proper restaurant, but beggars couldn't be choosers and it smelled divine. The fat that had dripped into the fire helped there, crackling away and giving the smoke a meaty smell. He definitely wasn't going to worry about the health benefits, or lack thereof, of fat tonight.

The tiny canister of dust flakes was one of the few things that had remained unharmed after everything under the mountain, probably because the sturdy case with its fur-lined interior was made for such rugged travel. Ren carefully added some tiny shavings, along with a tiny sampling of herbs Jaune had pointed out to him along the way.

"Are there any vegetables around here that we could safely eat?" he asked.

"I picked these mushrooms earlier," Jaune said, revealing a small pouch with four or five inside. "They're safe to eat raw. Villagers around here used to harvest them because they could grow anywhere, even after being plucked, and didn't take much space. They're a little bland, but you can make a good soup from them."

There wasn't really the time or equipment for that here, but Ren took them nonetheless and sliced them into small strips which he placed on the skewer as well. Some juice was left behind, and he pooled that over the steaks, creating an almost artistic flair – or at least as much as one could when cooking deer kebabs on a slab of stone. They were going to be eating with daggers and fingers.

"Dinner is served."

"It looks fancy," Jaune said, taking his skewer with care. "Smells good, too."

Ren cut off a chunk and blew softly on it. The test was in the taste, and he watched as Jaune bit into his own, tearing some off and chewing on it… before spitting out the bit of wood he'd taken along with the rest. The hunter swallowed, looked away, and grumbled something. He kept eating, though. Another win for his cooking, it seemed.

"How much further east do the Grimmlands go?" Ren asked, breaking the silence as they ate.

"A ways," was Jaune's unhelpful answer. "More of Remnant is ruled by the Grimm than not, so we could travel east and never leave it if we wanted."

"I meant Mouk's territory," Ren said, thinking of the countless foothills of the barrier mountains south of the Plateaus. "We were walking east for days, but we never did really did get out of his domain, did we? Even at the end, his domain had to go further than that cave." Going around Mouk's domain had been the entire reason for not heading south, after all.

Jaune frowned in thought, chewing his meat carefully. "I'm not exactly sure," Jaune admitted. "I knew Mouk had dens and hole-up places across his hunting grounds, but I never knew about that particular cave. His main haunts used to be further south and west, but he never really came up to the plateau. It was more…"

Unable to easily describe, Jaune shifted over and for his pack, before withdrawing a map from its out pocket. It was one Ren had occasionally seen Jaune check, though rarely with the air of a man in any way lost. Jaune pulled it out, not seeming to mind the dirtiness of his fingers, and laid it out for Ren to see.

The rectangular map seemed a sea of green forests but having walked half of it already Ren could already recognize the broad strokes. Elevation lines wracked the south, showing the countless foothills and shallow valleys of Mouk's domain. The upper third of the map was smoother- a flatter plateau above the foothills, gently sloping up to the north eastern edge of the map. There it met a wall of brown… and when Ren looked up to check, he was sure. Those were the barrier mountains, the unquestioned boundary of this part of the frontier. The mountains bordered the plateau before breaking east but didn't really follow beneath it except to the south-western foothills.

"We're about here," Jaune said, indicating the vague middle of the map above the start of the plateau, before pointing at one specially noted hill at the bottom left. "Mouk's cave was around here. The… Selene's Sorrow Ridge? Huh. But yeah, all the foothills south and west of the plateau…" he indicated the whole map, "was more or less Mouk's Grimmlands. He'd wander, but rarely go up the plateau. Never quite knew why."

"So, the south-east was safe?" Ren asked, tracing a part of the map which had a number of marks beneath the mountains. To the north, there was a tear-shaped lake at the foot of the mountains right at the edge of the map. Beneath, the plateau led south, creating along a strip of the plateau above Mouk's domain.

Jaune frowned. "Safe enough. Used to be little villages there along the hills, a little road to the plateau, until there wasn't anything to travel to anymore."

Ren knew that frown and stopped pressing there. He had heard enough as it was. Avoiding Mouk's domain had been why they hadn't gone south in the first place. Seeing the map, and the mountain strip that could take them to civilization…

I'll be home soon. Wait for me, everybody.

"Can you tell me a little about the people who lived here?" he asked instead. Apart from his curiosity there was always the academic interest. He drew out the small notebook he'd been writing his thoughts into.

"I suppose I can tell you a few things, but why?"

"I've always been interested in other societies," Ren said, which was true enough. "I'm not from Vale- I'm actually from Mistral- so I'm not sure what life is like on the Valean frontier. What kind of people were they?"

Jaune shrugged, accepting the question at face value. "Same as anywhere, I guess. Back in the day, this was a safe part of the frontier. The gradual slope meant most Grimm drifted into the river valleys, and those that didn't could be kept in check by local Huntsmen. A lot of little hamlets got set up on the plateau ridgeline to the east leading to Lake Tear, and a lot of people who just wanted to be away from the Kingdom moved out here."

Jaune poked the fire with a stick, looking in. "Wasn't hard. The water kept the soil fertile and you've seen how much game there is. Grimmlands weren't so close either- Mouk used to stay way west of here. It wasn't much, but there used to be life out here, even with the occasional Grimm. You couldn't go a day without hearing a dog go wild."

"Dogs?"

"Dogs," Jaune repeated, letting loose a rare smile. "Everyone has one out on the frontier. Man's best friend, and even a faunus' too. You could say that everyone wants one around to warn against the Grimm, and that's true, but that's not half of it. You can get through a lot of cold nights if you have a companion who's always wearing a coat and is willing to snuggle."

That was truer than Jaune knew, as Ren had had nothing more in some of his own childhood nights than a cuddly Nora.

"Sounds you really like dogs," Ren noted, hiding a smile.

Jaune practically pivoted, fire gleaming in his eyes as he grabbed a stick to gesture for emphasis.

"I love dogs!" Jaune declared, with more enthusiasm than Ren had seen from him yet. "Dogs embody loyalty! They follow their master's command above all else! Be a jerk to them and they don't complain, and unlike hunters they never once beg for a pay check!"

'You would like that,' Ren thought but didn't say aloud as Jaune continued.

"Dogs never ask for money before helping someone, and they're always honest with what they feel. That's not even touching what a good dog can do to guard you against the Grimm. Trust me, city-boy, out here they're worth their weight in gold, and easily as much as a huntsman like you. A good hunting dog's a hunter's ace in the whole. Any hunter worth his salt has one," he boasted after that not-so subtle jab that made Ren's brow crease.

"Then where's yours?" Ren asked, unable to help himself.

And just like that, Jaune deflated, the energy of the moment loss at the slightest prick as Jaune looked at him, caught in the trap.

"I- that-" he began, looking at Ren for a moment before looking away.

"She's not here anymore," he ultimately said.

"I see," Ren said, leaning back on the ground to look up at the sky. "You know, they have dogs in Mistral too. They're real common on the frontier, but for a different reason. Ever heard of the ursa escape strategy?"

Jaune hadn't, or didn't say anything, so Ren continued, as neutrally as he could.

"It's what you do when you sick a dog on an Ursa that's chasing you, so that you can run away. The dog dies, usually, but it lets the person get away. It's a common escape strategy for people unable to fight the Grimm. I've never done it myself, but I've seen it done before."

To his side, a stony silence chilled the atmosphere, so Ren felt compelled to have mercy.

"But not recently," he added. "It'd be a waste to kill one when you could sell it. Like you said, a good hunting dog's worth their weight in gold. There are some Huntsmen who would pay top lien for a trained one."

The sound of the stick in Jaune's hand breaking was the only response. Ren frowned. Had his little jab back gone a bit too far? Better change the topic before the mood soured irrevocably.

"So, back to this area. There aren't any more Grimm like Mouk around, then?" he asked.

He heard Jaune take a clear breath first, and after the sigh it seemed his tone had evened out.

"Not here, and none of that size that I know of. Grimm earn names and reputations for big deeds, but there was never much around here to be big about. Mouk just got his because you can't not name something that big."

Kind of like a mountain itself, Ren thought. You'd call a mountain range by a single title, but if one stood out then it would often earn a name all of its own. "How many Grimm are there around here that earn names?" Ren asked, noticing that Jaune seemed to have an even tone again when talking about their common enemy.

"A few. Hard to give a number. Stories come and go, and people tend to give names that stick based on who sees and survives them. You can't tell if they're all real, though, and some may have died since the telling. Rockslides, drowning, just natural causes and accidents. When Hunters used to come around, they used to clear out all the lucky little ones before they could grow into big threats."

"I see. There's no `ruler` of this land, then?"

"Nah, shouldn't be. Bigger threat is that I haven't been here much lately, so I don't know who moved in or not. We should be good if we keep moving. The reason things were so bad back in the valleys was because your friends set the whole area off with their stupidity. The Grimm were driven wild and Mouk was on edge. He's not normally so aggressive."

"It wasn't stupid," Ren said.

"Huh?"

"The rescue attempt," Ren frowned. "I know you're not a fan of Huntsmen and Huntresses – you've made that clear enough – but I'll ask you not to insult my friends like that. They were trying to save my life."

Jaune snorted and poked at the fire with a stick. "Funny way to go about it. They put you in more danger."

"Perhaps they did, but they didn't mean to. My friends are inexperienced, not stupid."

None of them had a chance to be much else, even with what training they'd received. Beacon just hadn't prepared them for this kind of situation and it meant a lot to him that they'd tried regardless. No one would have made them come, but they had.

"I don't expect you to like them," Ren tried, "but the least you can do is respect the fact they tried. Or are you saying that if you were lost you wouldn't want someone to do the same?"

Jaune snorted.

"I can get myself out of trouble just fine, but what I can't guarantee is keeping anyone else alive this far out in the Grimmlands," he countered. "You're trouble enough, but lucky for me, I won't have to deal with any more. The sooner you accept that, the better."

"Better for whom?"

"You," Jaune said pointedly. "You keep holding out hope for some magical rescue and you'll stop doing what you need to do to get yourself out of this mess. That stupid self-help book had you sit still for three days without gathering food, and you saw how that ended."

"I'll admit the guide wasn't much use," Ren conceded. "But my friends were trying to save me. They risked their lives to save mine, and while I can accept that you didn't get along with them I'd still ask you to not to belittle their efforts."

"Tch, fine." Jaune stood and wandered over to his sleeping bag, kicking it open with more force than was really required. "They're probably safe back in Vale by now, though. Real Huntsmen don't come running for people like us."

"That isn't true, Jaune."

"Isn't it? Funny. I guess all the people who lived out here must have picked up and left for fun, then," he spat, voice full of sarcasm. "Forget it. I'm getting some sleep. Don't stay up so late waiting that you're not ready to go in the morning, city-boy."

And just like that the conversation was over. Ren wasn't willing to continue it, more than able to see a fruitless battle ahead. What little camaraderie they'd built since Mouk's defeat and during the day had evidently ended. Without a common threat to unite them, he was back to being the Huntsman city-boy.

Regrettable, but maybe it couldn't be helped. They came from different worlds.

Jaune didn't know Team JNPR. They wouldn't abandon him, even if he'd wanted them to. And yes, while they weren't `true huntsmen` yet, that didn't mean they wouldn't get better with time. Teams RWBY and CRDL, too. They'd made mistakes, but he was sure they would learn from it. Ruby certainly would, and no doubt make sure everyone else did.

But would I want them to come after me out here?

His eyes scanned his surroundings, the small copse of threes, less a forest and more a patch of woodland. Beyond that lay the gentle slope of the plateau leading, and then there were mountains and more even further beyond. Not to mention the Grimmlands valleys they'd just come from. Even if Team JNPR decided to risk it and look for him, they were more like to look back where they'd come from than where he was now. Back to Mouk's domain, where even if the monster was blind he still had an army of Grimm to rely upon.

Perhaps, with that in mind, it was better if his teammates did forget about him. At least for now. Better, but unlikely.

Don't come after me, everyone, Ren begged, climbing into his sleeping bag. I just need you all to trust in me a little longer. I'll come back on my own.

/-/

It was still night time when Ren woke. He blinked the sleep from his eyes, wondering what had drawn him from his slumber in the first place. Jaune was still asleep some distance behind him, the hunter's breathing even and deep. Apart from that the only sound was the incessant chirping of crickets drawn out because of the damp air.

He gave it another moment, holding his breath to better listen, but apart from Jaune and the general surroundings there was nothing. A tired sigh rocked him, and he snuggled back down into his bag, eyes closing.

"Arf!"

Ren's eyes snapped open. There it was again – clearer, this time. He sat up and rubbed his face, fighting past a yawn as he looked over the camp. The fire had gone low and died. Smoke coiled lazily from it up toward the canopy above. The camp was otherwise in one piece, with no sign of disturbance.

"Arf!"

"Again," he whispered, rubbing his face and quietly climbing out of the bag, careful not to wake Jaune. The sound was distant, somewhere off from the trees and towards the plains they'd come from. It was a dog's bark, easily recognised in the night's silence, and also unmistakable in its sound. Wolves didn't bark like that, and Beowolves certainly didn't.

A feeling of relief flowed through him. Dogs were a sign of safety, after all. Dogs were a sign of civilization.

Jaune had said people lived here, Ren thought, glancing down to the still-sleeping hunter. Jaune must have been exhausted himself to not have woken to the sound, or at least lacked a Huntsman's honed edge. But that was irrelevant- what Jaune had said earlier was what mattered. Some had no doubt died when this frontier fell to the Grimm, but others had evacuated. It wasn't inconceivable that some remnants of their lives had been left behind. The thought of a family pet being one of those was harsh, but he doubted it would have been on purpose.

Perhaps… perhaps someone's bad fortune could become their boon?

"Arf! Arf!"

Ren hovered on the edge of the camp, not quite willing to go any further. "It could be wild, or feral," he whispered, more as a warning to himself than anything else. "Even if it wasn't, it would have no reason to trust me. The last thing we need is a commotion that might draw trouble."

And, as cruel as it sounded, a dog might be a burden for them right now. Their supplies of food were lean enough without needing to hunt more. Trying to train a wild dog wasn't likely to be worth it either. Ren listened again, hoping to catch another sound of it just as a means to tell if it was alarmed or not. Probably not- it was safer out here than they were. Grimm didn't hunt animals, and as long as there were no human masters to sacrifice themselves for…

No further sounds came. The dog didn't bark, and if it had hurried away it was too distant for him to hear its footsteps. He'd thought it sounded close, but not too close. Maybe within a hundred metres or so. Maybe it was warning them away? A forest like this would doubtless have countless small dens.

Either way, they'd be gone tomorrow. There wasn't much reason to worry. Perhaps he could convince Jaune to leave their scraps behind for it, a nice treat as thanks for the use of its territory. With a shake of his head Ren turned back toward the camp.

And stepped on something unnatural.

"Hm?" He glanced down, surprised. Under his foot was a metallic can, something that wouldn't be found out in the Grimmlands on its own. It rattled a little underfoot, but as he crouched down to inspect it – wondering if there might yet be people out here – he paused. There was a piece of string looped through a hole in the side of the can, and a number of pebbles and stones inside.

It was a part of Jaune's alarm system. "Some alarm," he mumbled, putting it back down carefully enough that it didn't rattle again. How embarrassing- they both must have slept through its fall to the ground. He considered putting it back but thought better of it. He didn't know where the rest were, and if he set them all off then Jaune would no doubt wake up in an even worse mood than he'd gone to sleep in. He thought about doing nothing and going back to sleep, but the thought of Jaune finding it in the morning and realizing he'd walked over his little alarm and then did nothing…

"I'd better wake him up," he decided, sighing. Putting the can back down, he stalked over and crouched next to the teen, shaking his shoulder. "Jaune. Jaune, wake up."

"Ung…" Jaune grumbled. "Is it morning?"

"Not quite. There's something wrong with the traps."

The hunter instantly reached for his bow and was up and on his knees inside his bag in seconds. His eyes scanned the area, even as he reached for his arrows, where a new wooden batch was being made by the fabricator. Ren cringed at Jaune's haste, realising that he hadn't exactly phrased that as he ought to have. He'd blame the late hour if asked.

"We're not under attack. One of the traps failed or fell. I didn't want to leave it in case something happened."

The bow lowered. The hunter sighed and blinked wearily. "Right…" He yawned. "I guess you're right. Better safe than sorry." He hooked the bow back behind him on his belt and cracked the bones in his back, stretching. "Alright, city boy. Show me the trap you broke."

"I didn't trip it," Ren protested. "You'd have heard it if I did. It must have fell to the ground."

"My traps don't fail. I know what I'm doing. You sure you didn't break it going for a piss?"

"Yes. And this one did break." Ren said. He led Jaune over to it before the hunter could argue, and once he was there he pointed to the can on the ground, still attached by string. "See? If I'd set that off it would have caused a racket."

"It should have done anyway," Jaune said, yawning and crouching down to pick it up. "It's a tripwire with the can placed in a tree. Whatever sets it off drags the can out, and the stones rattle around loud enough to wake the dead. Or us, hopefully before we join them. Even if this fell we should have heard it."

Ren shrugged. "Maybe we slept through it."

"Maybe," Jaune acknowledged, frowning in the dark. "I must be more out of this than I thought. That kind of fatigue gets a hunter killed." He sighed and moved to the nearest tree. "Good catch on spotting it, I guess. And waking me up to let me know. Maybe nothing will happen but it's not worth the risk." Tired as he was, it was nice noting that Jaune's mood had risen half a notch… though only half, given the sleep.

Jaune stood on his tiptoes to reach a low bough, can in one hand and the string trailing behind him. He grunted as he hopped a little, placing it in a spot that would hold. The string wasn't taut, however. Ren frowned and moved over to touch it.

The string fell slack to the forest floor.

"Uh, Jaune?"

"What is-" The hunter froze, waking up for real. "What the hell?"

"Did it snap?"

"Anything that could should have set off the trap." Jaune picked up the end and inspected it, eyes suddenly wide and alert. "That doesn't make any sense, though. It's always worked before. The can should have been ripped out the tree if something broke this."

"It did. It was on the floor. We just didn't hear it."

Jaune made to answer but decided against it. He hurried past, leaving Ren to follow in confusion as the hunter jogged several metres around the camp, reaching another tree. He knelt and felt around the base, then came up with another piece of string. Another frayed end of a piece of string, that was. "This trap is gone as well," he whispered. "They're not connected to one another. If one fails, the others would still work."

Ren followed the other chord off toward a tree with his eyes. The other end was hung over a low bough. There was nothing on the end of it. No can, no trap, no alarm. Nothing.

It was all gone. Half the traps protecting that side of their camp were gone.

All that was left was a loose piece of thread swinging back and forth.

CF's Notes:

Not much to say, except that progress is being made… slow as it may feel. Darn 2-week updates (and real-world distractions). Next chapter will definitely have a payoff and development worth the name as we face our latest threat.

But what is it? And what do our boys face? Find out next time, on Hunter or Something.

Next Chapter: 31st March

P a treon . com (slash) Coeur