Here we go
Director: College Fool
Writer: Coeur al'Aran
Cover Art: Kegi Springfield
Chapter 16
When the morning came, neither of them felt rested.
Ren didn't because he'd been up for the last watch, sat wide awake and staring at the cave entrance and expecting a raging cannibal to tear through at any moment. Jaune didn't because even with his experience – or perhaps because of it – he hadn't been able to fully rest while aware that he was being hunted.
Neither was in the mood for conversation as they broke their fast. They ate a cold meal in silence, Jaune still unwilling start a fire and too surly to spend any time preparing a better meal. Ren wiped the residue of raw meat off his mouth and rolled up his sleeping bag while Jaune moved to the traps at the entrance and checked them. Only once he was content they hadn't been triggered did he begin to unravel them.
"Quiet night," Ren finally said, breaking the silence.
"Probably quieter for him," Jaune growled back. "Bastard knew we'd have to stand guard while he could sleep. He's wearing us down slowly."
"Wouldn't he have to be on guard against the Grimm?"
"Not if he has his dog with him," Jaune said. "Besides, didn't you say yourself how odd it was we didn't come across any Grimm? I hate to say it, but I think you were right. Something, or someone, has been hunting them." He stuffed the traps into his pack with a scowl. "Who knows, maybe if we're lucky he'll have been eaten in the night. Doubt it, though."
"Why?"
"Most Grimm ignore animals, but it's not the same the other way around. Any half-loyal dog would have been barking up a storm the moment they caught wind of a Grimm. That's why they're man's best friend."
And wasn't that the sound of a man without one? But Jaune was right- if they were right, they'd have heard that for sure, what with one being awake at all times. Ren nodded his head in understanding. It really did make sense for hunters to have dogs out here, as company, protection, tracking, animal retrieval and an early warning system.
It almost made him want to ask the obvious of Jaune. It was just as obvious that Jaune didn't want to talk about it, the way he shuffled to his pack and shucked it up with a sigh.
"Right, we should get moving. The more distance we put between here and our next camp, the better chance we have of ditching our friend."
Ren wondered about that but bit his tongue. They'd have to get to the abandoned frontier road eventually, when they turned south and headed back towards civilization. Hopefully their pursuer would give up then.
The early morning sunlight was a welcome relief from the light drizzle of the last few days, even if experience in the area told him that could change in an instant. The ground was wet but not mushy and Jaune kept them to the firmer routes away from the tributaries, apart from a brief visit to one to refill their water canteens. Not too hot and with a pleasant breeze, it was by no means a bad day to be on the march, other than the threat of pursuit.
That was a pretty big 'other,' though, and did nothing to make it any easier for a lack of sleep.
A quick look back revealed mostly empty meadows and sparse woodland. There hadn't been any sign of people following, or even a dog, and as they put the miles between their last location Ren started to wonder if they hadn't given Pete the slip after all. He tested the idea with Jaune.
"It's possible," the hunter admitted. "I won't feel comfortable until we know for sure, but someone like that wouldn't have survived this long out here without being cautious. Maybe he decided we were too much to deal with. Even a light wound out here can be fatal and we'd not go down without a fight. Of course, it's always possible he's ahead instead."
"Ahead?"
"That trap yesterday was set in our path, so he overtook us the night before and laid it there. Faunus have perfect night vision, so he could easily be nocturnal and sleeping several miles ahead of us, waiting for us to catch up. There's only so many places we can go."
What a delightful thought that was. What little hope he'd managed to accrue faded. Pulling out the map of the area, he saw the now-familiar arrangement. On the north, a plateau. On the south west, Mouk's Grimmlands. And at the east… the Barrier Mountains, and just west of them, at their feet, the old frontier road that led from the plateau along a narrow plateau strip to the south.
No matter where they were on the plateau, it wouldn't be hard to guess where they'd have to go to leave.
In all honesty, it amazed him that someone could survive out here in the first place, hunting dog or not. Pete the butcher had been a hunter, so was experienced living off the land the same way Jaune was, but he doubted even Jaune could make a life out here permanently. Apart from the Grimm, there were threats like infection and disease, lack of supplies or any one of a thousand other silent killers.
With how disconnected the frontier seemed to be, he had to wonder why the cannibal hadn't just moved to a different village. It sounded cruel, but the chances of him being recognised were low and he could begin his reign of terror all over again. Living out here, now that the frontier had receded and there was no one left to hunt, just seemed like a lot of hard work- especially for someone with a decided lack of people to devour.
Then again, why am I trying to rationalise a psychopath? Isn't mental instability the whole point of someone like that?
It was while Ren was deep in thought that his eyes strayed over a small set of bushes off the side of the path Jaune took them down. There weren't even any trees of forest, just five or six plants of various sizes that had for some reason chosen to grow together in one spot. Perhaps there was ground water underneath, he didn't know. But as he looked, he caught a flicker of reflected light.
"I see something."
Jaune ducked low. "What?"
"I… I think I saw reflected light, like a mirror… or metal." He pointed in the direction of the bushes, a good three hundred metres away at least. Jaune strained to look and for a moment Ren feared it would be proved nothing more than a figment of his imagination.
There! It flashed again!
"I see it," Jaune hissed. "Good eyes."
"Thanks." He decided not to mention he'd only noticed because he'd been trying to distract himself from the harsh pace they were keeping. "What do we do? Move on?"
Jaune frowned, thinking.
"It might be better not to. If it's he's trying to lay a trap, it might be better to turn it against him."
"How so? Do you want to lay an ambush for him?" Ren surprised even himself with how matter of fact he sounded, and even felt his blood chill in realization at his own train of thought. Tired or no, Huntsman or no, if the first warning he had of Jaune's presence was a dust-tipped arrow racing towards his face…
Jaune chilled too, likely at the same bloody image, and turned to Ren with a sharp glare.
"Don't even think about it, Huntsman," Jaune hissed. "I don't care what sort of monster he is- I'm a hunter, not a Huntsman, and I will not hunt people! I am not a murderer!"
Ren flinched at Jaune's vehemence and held up his hand pacifyingly. "That's not what I-" he began but changed mid-tact. "What were you thinking, then?" he asked instead.
Jaune huffed, then again as he took a steadying breath, and then looked away to not meet Ren's eyes.
"I was thinking we could shoot his dog."
Ren blanched, civilizational instinct in favour of canines kicking in despite it all. "Really?"
Jaune nodded, though clearly not happy. "Faunus have better night vision, but their other senses aren't anything to talk about. It's the dog that prevents us from losing him, and that's on top of it protecting him from the Grimm. If we could take it out, we'd be giving ourselves a real advantage." He shook his head. "I don't care who you are - a hunter's not half as good as they are with their best friend and partner."
That… made a lot of sense, actually, as Ren's thoughts flickered to his own absent companion. Huntsmen weren't so different, though Ren doubted Jaune would appreciate the comparison. Still, one thing bothered him.
"So, you want to kill the dog, but leave the dangerous cannibal in one piece?"
"He won't be so dangerous without his hunting hound."
That wasn't exactly what he'd meant, and Jaune knew that well enough if his stony expression was anything to go by. A part of him wanted to point out how ridiculous that was, but was now really the time, when they had a killer after them?
"Alright," he said, letting the issue be. "I'll be on guard if he attacks," he said, slipping Stormflower into his hands.
"If he does, we flee," Jaune countered instead. "Don't try to fight him. I don't think he'll, given how he's using traps so far, but if he does anyway he probably has a reason to think he can win. We want to take away his advantage, not fight him when he has one."
Ren frowned a little at Jaune's contradiction, but this was no time to argue. He nodded to Jaune, indicating he was ready.
"Play it casual," Jaune whispered. "We'll walk over there like we're changing path. If you see the dog, shoot it, and then we run away. We can afford to lose Grimm out here, but this guy is proving a problem."
Their change in direction and pace was about as natural as they could make it, which couldn't have been too convincing since it was after the huddle session of whispers. Even so, whatever was in the bushes couldn't exactly leave because that would require it to rush across open terrain. If their enemy was in there, his best bet was to stay low and hope they hadn't seen him
The glint in the bushes flickered again as they approached – and once they were within forty feet or so of it, the two broke into a sprint almost simultaneously. Ren went straight in while Jaune moved to a true, taking cover while hoping to cut off a retreat. As Ren reached the light however, he realised there was no such danger.
Or rather, the danger was of a different sort, one that had his sprint slow into a stop before he even reached the thicket.
"It's another trap," he called back, hesitating before a silvery canister that hadn't quite been properly hidden. Barely visible, but glinting when the light reflected off them, the wires criss-crossed between several branches.
Jaune stowed his bow as he approached, skirting around the now trapped bushes. "I guess that answers the question of whether he's ahead or behind. Still, why trap here? There's no way we'd come through this sort of brush naturally." Despite that, Jaune didn't sound, looking around warily instead. Was this bit of metal just bait for a greater trap? A little something to keep them distracted?
Nothing moved out there, though. Nothing Ren could sense, anyways.
"Is it one of yours?"
Jaune took the can and inspected it. It was a different shape to what he'd seen the hunter use, which answered the question even before Jaune did. "No, this is someone else's. The wire and technique are similar but the trap itself is different." He unscrewed the container and upended it, sprinkling dust and a few small granules of stone onto the grass. "It's not in good condition, either. Looks like he isn't taking good care of his tools." He made to throw it away, then thought better and stashed it instead. "Mind if I take the time to steal this string?"
"Take all the time in the world," Ren said, gratefully taking the opportunity to dump his bag and slump down into the cool, damp grass.
"Stuff like this can be too useful to leave behind," Jaune explained as he started to work on carefully unwinding the thread from the branches and twigs. "Have enough of it and you can repair clothes, close wounds or even fish in a stream. Besides, if this asshole thinks he's going to steal my traps, then I might as well do the same in return. You need some new bullets, don't you?" he asked.
Ren checked his weapons by instinct, but already knew the score. He'd been down to his last rounds since Mouk.
Jaune gave one of those rare grins of his and reached back to pat his ammo-fabricating quiver before picking up the can again.
"I think we just found your new shell casings. Add a little dust, and when we hole up tonight we could give you another clip or two for sure."
Ren chuckled and left him to it. There was no arguing, and the idea of slowly tearing down what their pursuer had to use against them was by all means a good idea. It was what he'd been doing to them. It might even convince him to stop chasing them entirely, lest he waste valuable wire and metal he couldn't replace.
But if he couldn't afford to waste it, why would he set a trap here of all places? The question bothered him more than he cared to admit. The one in the forest he'd fallen for before made sense because he'd pushed the two of them towards it, but this had only even caught their attention because of a lucky flicker of light. Animals, and humans, tended to take the easiest path around an obstacle, and this patch looked to contain more than its fair share of brambles and thorns.
One caught his eye, with a tuft of some dark string attached to it. He stood and moved over, removing it and holding them up before his eyes. It wasn't string at all. It was hair.
"Found something?" Jaune asked, slipping over.
"See for yourself. Human hair, you think? Or beard?" Shaving and hygiene had to be a difficult thing out here, which would explain why it was so wiry. Then again… Ren felt his own chin, and realized he had the first hints of a stubble starting to set in. He'd never been much for facial hair, and had tried to shave himself with Stormflower those first days in the cave, but in the week since…
"I think this is fur," Jaune said. "It's too coarse and long for human hair. Dark brown or black, probably from the dog. It- ow!" He tossed it aside in a hurry, as if it were course enough to cause a splinter. "That was rough," he said. "Still, they must have been here not too long ago. This probably would have blown away otherwise."
"And wouldn't they need to be near a trap for it to serve any purpose?"
"Yes." Jaune's eyes narrowed. He stood and looked towards the nearest woodland again, which was quite a bit larger than the last they'd been in and spread off towards the east. It certainly looked like the kind of haunting place a killer might live. "We could stick to the meadows and avoid them, but…"
"But they'd still follow us," Ren said. "You want to finish this now, don't you?"
"I'd rather be the one hunting than being hunted, but I don't want to be playing this game at all," Jaune said. "The sooner we shoot the dog, the better. Either he has a harder time tracking us, or if we're lucky he gives up when entirely. Maybe even nurses his mutt back to health. You have an issue with that?"
"Me?" Ren asked, surprised. "Since when did my opinion matter?"
"You're the one I'm trying to get out of here," Jaune said gruffly. "And if he does attack, you're the one who's a greater danger to him, and so probably the one he'll target first. Just seems fair to ask since you've got a choice here, that's all."
He wasn't sure whether he should feel shocked or touched, even if Jaune's sentiment came with the slight backhand of not trusting him to hold his own against the cannibal. Either way, he decided not to comment on it. Doing so would only risk another argument.
What did he think about it? He wanted to get out of here, obviously. His thoughts had been on his friends ever since he'd gotten lost here and Beacon was a constant lure in his mind. He just wanted to go home. But was it really wise to leave someone like this behind them?
Every Huntsman learned that some problems, like some monsters, were best faced head on, not by running away from them. Mouk had been an exception to that, but an exception that proved the rule. You didn't have to be hard-headed to know monsters like the Grimm didn't let you back down without a fight.
"Let's finish this," Ren decided. "This isn't a Grimm; it's just some murderer. If we let him go now and he follows us, we might actually get caught between him and some Grimm, and that might be the end of us."
"Alright," Jaune agreed, or perhaps ruled. "I don't care if he is a criminal, but I do care that he's not letting us go in peace. Aim for the dog and avoid a fight, and we should be able to get out of here alright."
/-/
Back in Edge, Qrow Branwen was uneasy. He was one brat short, and the longer it took him to see for himself that no one had been stupidly heroic enough to try and brave the Grimmlands, the uneasier he got.
He still hadn't seen the third brat of Team JNPR with his own eyes, and it'd taken him too long to realize no one else had either. Not her partner, who was with the Valkyrie girl. Not his niece, who'd visited but left early in the morning, saying her friend had wanted to be left alone. And no one had seen her since, despite the directions for everyone to be in vale. The flight corridor to Beacon- and only Beacon- was likely to open any day now, but no one had seen one girl in particular.
Somehow, hearing Zwei had been left as company wasn't reassuring. The brave little corgi was a lifesaver, true, but still…
It was a slow thing at first, building up as he checked one location and then another, hunting around Edge for anyone who'd seen the girl or knew where her family home was. "Should have kept an eye on her," he told himself, blaming and recriminating in turn. "You knew better. You knew damn well one of them would try something. I'm supposed to be better than this."
He never was, though. That was the problem.
Edge's people didn't seem overly impressed with him either and the pilot's words about her mother waiting for a huntsman who never came was probably a part of it. Frontier villages vanished all the time, Huntsman or no Huntsman, and busy as he was for Ozpin he didn't have as much time out here as he used to. Not like the old days, back…
Back when he was supposed to know better and didn't think kids would run through the Grimmlands given half a reason.
Qrow caught sight of Ruby and her partner on the walls, not standing guard but asking questions of the SDC soldiers there. He nodded to them as he passed below, grateful that they'd taken his warning to heart and agreed to help the village out. He'd have asked Yang and her badly-disguised faunus friend too, but neither were around. The faunus was apparently with her own kind, in the faunus quarter of the village, while Yang was in the mines of all places.
Taiyang would kick his ass if he found out his little girl was helping to mine dust in an SDC mine, but his old friend didn't need to know. Whatever kept her busy and out of trouble was a bonus right now. Besides, she wasn't hurting anyone – and when it came to Yang that was a good thing. From what he'd heard, she was actually getting on with some of the other miners, even buying them a round at the bar. At least one of them was even starting to talk with her.
That was better than the local attitude for his latest headache.
"The girl?" a pit-faced man spat, the latest of Qrow's interrogations. He smelled of tar and animal fat, yet he'd recognised the description and that alone was enough to make him stop and listen. "Ah didn' realise that brat came back 'ere. Thought Edge was too small for someone like her."
"You know her?" he asked.
"Ah know of her, or her family. Good folk, mostly," he said, nodding. "Men are hunters, wom'n skinners, or at least they used t' be. Can't say th' same about 'er, but there's always a bad apple in th' bunch. Always knew she was too good for dis place, if you know what I mean. Didn't stop 'er from robbing her family halfway ta blind on the way out."
It wasn't a new story to Qrow, but neither was it any of his business. People dreamed of becoming real Huntsman all the time, somehow believing it meant something special. The adventure, romance or some other silly nonsense about glory and duty and virtue. Being a real Huntsman was none of those things. It was a job, one you did well if you wanted to get paid, and because your own life was on the line if you didn't. Helping other people… well, that's just what you had to do to get paid. The alternative was robbing them, and there was a different name for the sort of fallen Hunters who'd use their strength against people than for them.
Still, those who spoke of glory and honor clearly hadn't tried racing through a Grimm-filled forest after a young boy who begged them for help, only to end knowing you'd never find the body.
Fun? Ha. Fun was for children.
"I've been told she's gone back to her family home," he said, "and that it's outside of the walls. Do you know where it is?"
"Who's askin'?" the man demanded, suddenly a whole lot more suspicious. Telling a stranger about a runaway was one thing but giving up the location of a family that was a part of their community was another altogether.
"Her teacher from Vale," he answered, the lie coming easily. "I'm supposed to take her back to Vale, but she's run off to visit home and left the group. I need to find her."
"You from Beacon?"
"Yes." Technically, anyway.
The man looked him up and down as though considering it, and even with his outfit covered in dust and grime it was still obvious from the colour, weave and the overall design that he wasn't some country bumpkin. The grizzled man nodded. "Alright. Easier for me to show you than explain it. Come in and I'll draw you a map. Might take a while but at least yet won't get lost."
"Appreciated, old timer." Qrow said, following him inside.
/-/
Jaune and Ren crouched low as they stalked through the forest. Jaune's bow was drawn and his own weapons were in hand, the hunter in the lead and he behind – ready to spring out at a moment's notice if they came under attack. Questions flashed through his mind; how strong would this man be? Would he have aura? Would he even be a threat without it? Of course he would be. It was that sort of thinking was what led him to underestimate Jaune in the first place and he'd promised not to do it again.
Would they have as much trouble with the dog as well? Quite possibly, since by the tale it was a man-eater like its master. Once upon a time he wouldn't have put much weight on that, but then he went to Beacon…
The questions were endless, and he ran through solutions to each in turn, finding some small familiarity in the feeling of a combat situation that had been absent before. This felt comfortable, or perhaps that was the wrong word – too relaxed to be true. It did feel familiar, though, to stalk through a forest behind a figure with golden blonde hair.
"Trap to the left," Jaune whispered. "Between the oaks – the one with the fallen log by the base."
Ren nodded, spotting it once it was pointed out. They skirted around it, Jaune leading to make sure they didn't spring any of the alarms and alert their prey. They must have been close now; they'd found more traps, and closer together, close enough that Ren and Jaune had started avoiding the traps rather than try to dismantle them and risk starting a sound. It was odd, though. Some were well-concealed and in the trickiest of places… but others seeming spread randomly through the trees haphazardly.
Perhaps that was a style- the obvious distractions from the well-hidden ones- but Ren's instincts didn't feel like there was a common purpose to all of them. Some obviously were, but others…
They didn't stop to collect the trap this time, too focused on making use of the daylight hours remaining. The canopy cut out much of the sunlight, creating a strange sense of dim light akin to evening, rather than the afternoon it really was. There was enough to see by, however, and enough left that if this beast was nocturnal, he would still be at rest.
It was his dog they were worried about, though. A dog who not only would be on guard but might smell them even if he didn't hear them first.
Jaune held up a hand, stopping them. He pressed two fingers to the space between his eyes and pointed to the east. Ren nodded, moving over to watch that direction as the hunter stowed his bow and crept over to whatever it was he'd seen. Even with the quiet, Jaune felt confident enough to speak, if in a very low whisper.
"Something broke through here not too long ago. No tracks; the ground's too hard, but the branches here are parted to form a path."
"A path? Can we follow it?"
"If we're careful. Not even the best hunter can erase all signs of their passing, but they'll be aware of them. If he expects us, he'll trap this path and use it as bait." Jaune stood a little taller and motioned for him to follow. "Question is, is he expecting us?"
"I guess we'll soon find out."
They followed the path through the forest for several minutes, always keeping a good ten or so feet away but keeping it in sight. Every now and then they'd lose sight of it and have to approach again, until Jaune would find a sapling's branch bent a certain way or some other near-invisible sign that a figure had come this way recently.
Oddly, no traps impeded their approach. The longer they went without spotting one, the more paranoid Ren became, until he was checking the space in front of him with every step. If Jaune shared his worry, he hid it well, but the hunter's pace was no better than his own. His hands gripped Stormflower tighter. His eyes tracked the forest around him for movement. His muscles were tense, ready to snap into action at the slightest provocation. There was an arrow nocked to Jaune's bow, too. He had no idea when that had happened.
A shape slowly revealed itself from between the trees. Jaune saw it first and motioned for silence, pointing it out with a nod of his head. It was too large to be a person and too still to be anything alive. As Ren focused, he realised the straight lines were what truly made it stand out from nature.
It was a small house, or really more of a cabin nestled deep in the forest.
"I think we've found his home," Jaune whispered.
It looked like it, and there was a moment of surprise that the man had a home, before Ren shook his head and cursed his imagination. Cannibal or not, if he'd lived out here on his own then he must have had somewhere to return to. The abode looked still and unassuming and on closer look more resembled a clumsy hut built from logs, mud and loose rock. It wasn't well-built by any imagination, but it was sturdy.
"I take it we're not going to go up and knock on the door." Or shoot a fire-arrow at it and be done with it.
"Not without checking it out first," Jaune said. "People did live out here once, so this could be a woodcutter's outpost. And if it's empty, there might be something worth scavenging."
The tone of his voice made it clear he didn't believe that but was simply rattling off the possibility. A woodcutter would surely have known how to build something better than this and be somewhere he could deliver the trees he cut down. And an honest man wouldn't have needed so many traps around his home in the first place. It had to be the Butcher's.
Motioning for quiet, Jaune led him closer to the building, sticking this time to the road and passing at least two traps tightly woven on either side. At last, the traps were revealed – naturally being close to the home itself. That there was a hole in the defences was foolish, but perhaps the person within hadn't expected to become the hunted or hadn't bothered checking in a long time.
Ren caught Jaune's shoulder before he got any closer. "Where's the dog?" he asked. "Is it inside?" A strange place to keep a guard dog, but…
"Can't be," the hunter's brow furrowed. "You wouldn't keep something like that inside if you didn't have to."
"Or they're not here," Ren suggested. "Why else would there be a clear path leaving, and with no trap set in its place?"
The hunter tested the idea and found it to his liking, nodding his head after a few seconds. "You might be right. Nothing says he has to hunt at night." He eased his bow down, not quite unstringing the arrow but at least holding it in his other hand. "We should check the place out. If he's not here, we can lay a nice little surprise inside."
"Should we trap the path?"
"No, leave it. We don't want to tip him off."
Jaune padded around the building and held a finger up. An ear pressed to the wood indicated him listening and Ren held his breath. Apart from the sound of his heartbeat and the occasional rustle of the wind through the leaves above, there was naught from inside. Tentatively, Jaune placed one hand on the wooden wall and tapped his finger twice. It was a quiet sound that barely echoed even to Ren's ears, but a dog inside would have probably noticed.
Nothing. Not even an animal shuffling around to investigate.
"I guess he's not home," Jaune said, standing a little taller. "Lucky for us."
"I can't believe we missed him in the forest…"
"He might still be back where we were before or waiting for us up ahead. He'll be on his way after us, and since we're coming close to his home he'll definitely pop in to resupply. We can catch him then."
Rounding the corner, they came upon the front door of the property, which was a ramshackle wooden thing with a handle made of three or four heavy sticks strung together with twine. Below and beside that, a little away from the wall, was a wooden post driven into the ground, attached to which was a chain.
Beneath that chain, blood.
Ren's stomach twisted.
"It's not what you think," Jaune said, noticing. "Look at the chain, there's no band on the end or anything to lock someone down. This is probably for the dog and clips on his collar." Jaune knelt and touched it. He didn't move it however, likely concerned to make too much noise. "The ground here is all torn up…"
"And the blood," Ren pointed out.
"Probably meat for the dog. Deer, rabbit…"
Human…
"You think he fed people to his dog!?"
"Not any time recently. Frontier's been abandoned for years," Jaune reminded, before frowning as he stroked a hand in the dried blood. "Guess that means he hasn't been Cannibal Pete for awhile either, come to that. But something was eating here, and not that long ago. Can you smell that?" he asked, taking a whif. Ren couldn't- the sog of a week's journey dumbing his senses- but Jaune nodded to himself… but narrowed his eyes as well. "That's the smell of rotting meat."
"And all the ground up dirt?" Ren asked, indicating the torn soil beneath it, like some animal had raked its claws continuously through it.
"Digging, den-making or just attacking its prey," Jaune offered, not really looking down as he kept watch outside. "The poor thing doesn't even have a kennel. It'll almost be a shame to shoot it."
"The `poor thing` is eating people."
"Its master is eating people," Jaune countered, standing. "The dog is just doing as it's told. I'll put it down, but I won't hate it for loving its master any more than I would a child for the parent's sins."
He paused at the end of the chain, frowning down at what looked to be a broken link. With a sigh, he looked away. "We should go inside before he comes back. We don't want to linger outside."
The door creaked as it was pushed open. The stench of blood and death hit them immediately, and Ren gagged at what he saw.
Jaune summed it up in two words.
"Bloody hell…"
They'd found Pete the butcher, it seemed. Except he wouldn't be butchering anyone again, mostly on account of the fact half his body had been torn from itself, leaving his eyes bug-eyed and open on one side, missing on the other. His tongue had also been torn from his mouth.
He was, in technical terms, very, very dead.
And boy, did it reek. The scent of rotting flesh was overpowering, and he wanted to retch. He focused on his breathing instead, sheathing his weapons now that the immediate threat was… well… no longer along the living. He tried not to gag at that.
Jaune, in turn, took a breath and held it despite the… odour… and didn't sound the least bit overwhelmed by the grisly seen.
"Well," Jaune said. "I guess Pete the Butcher became Pete the Butchered."
"Really, Jaune? Really?"
"Too soon?"
Ren sighed. He'd almost forgotten what Yang was like, and now he had Jaune doing his best impression – and with the worst of timing, too. Somehow, Ren didn't think Yang would laugh in the face of death quite like this.
Ren stepped back and nudged the door open once more, hoping some fresh air would help remove the horrible stench. It also let in some light to show the scene. The interior of the dwelling was an absolute state, with gouges on the walls and a table sheared neatly in two. There was a spear on the floor, snapped in two, and a bow on the table, unstrung.
Whatever had killed the faunus before them had done so by surprise.
"Looks like a wild animal tore into him," Jaune said, strangely dispassionate, as he looked the body over. "It must have happened outside because you can see the bloodstain leading from the door. And it must have been recent too. Whatever happened, he was attacked outside and wounded. He crawled back here to recover, but whatever it was came after him, broke in and finished him off." Jaune eyed the bow on the table. "But what sort of hunters goes out without his bow? Why only the spear?"
"D-does it matter?" Ren stammered, half in horrified imagining and half in nausea. "C-Can we move on already?" Ren asked. "He's dead, and a lucky break for us. He must have been attacked by a Grimm yesterday after running after us. It couldn't have happened to a better guy."
Jaune frowned, staring at the bloody corpse, as if something didn't sit well with him. Besides the reek, that is.
"Monster or not, no one deserves to be left to the Grimm," Jaune muttered. "Maybe if we'd been here in time to save him, he would have let us go in peace."
Ren doubted it. In his experience, evil people didn't quite work that way, which was why the Kingdom needed Huntsmen. But still… it was a surprisingly soft note from his companion who was just as willing to shoot the late Pete's dog.
"Well, I don't think we have to worry about him anymore," Ren said. "Which means we can probably push on today too. I don't know about you, but I don't want to stay here any longer than I have to."
Jaune seemed a lot more ambivalent about that, looking up at the sky outside as well. The fact that you had to look out the walls to do that meant that technically they were in the first shelter they'd found since Ren was lost out here.
"It's getting dark soon and might rain tonight. We should probably make use of this place while we can for the night."
Horror pooled in Ren's stomach and he stared at the hunter.
"You can't be serious."
"We'll move the body out, of course, and set a fire with some scented herbs. I'm not suggesting we sleep next to this thing, but it'll be nice to have a real bed for once," Jaune said. Jaune sounded reasonable but looked perplexed at Ren's obvious disgust until something obviously came to mind.
"Is this your first time seeing a dead body?" he asked, guessing at Ren's shock. "It's just blood now. It's not going to do anything to you."
"I've seen dead bodies before but, well, I've never been asked to move one. Why have you?"
"Hunter, remember? But if you mean people, mine collapse." He said it like it was a common thing. Maybe it was. "Had to help haul bodies out of the wreckage while the SDC looked for other survivors. Made sticking to the wilds an easy choice." The hunter sighed and collapsed his bow, stashing it on his side. "Fine, fine, leave it to me. You get the fire started and I'll toss him in the woods nearby. Something will eat his body, or it'll decompose on its own."
"It looks like he's already halfway there," Ren pointed out.
Jaune paused. His eyes narrowed on the man, lips moving without any words coming forth. Suddenly, he stepped forwards, crouched and shook the man's exposed stomach. The sound alone was enough to make Ren almost throw up.
"Shit," Jaune cursed, not even noticing. "You're right. Call me tired but I knew something was off. He's way too decomposed. He's been dead a week or more, maybe two. This isn't good…"
"Why? One less problem to deal with."
"Think, city boy. If Pete the Butcher died two weeks ago…
Ren realized it too.
"Then who's been hunting us?"
/-/
Qrow left the old man's hut what felt like hours later with a crumpled piece of parchment gripped between his fingers. The map was meticulously drawn, far in excess of what he needed, and failing to realize that explained much of the delay. Still, what he had was sufficient.
The hunter's commune – little more than a walled collection of houses – wasn't exactly far from Edge. The map was marked with lines to represent distance, and when Qrow had asked why the man had laughed in his face. Apparently, it was so that people like himself didn't get lost and walk past the place and into the wilds.
It had taken awhile but find it he did. Checking out of the main gates, Qrow made his way down a worn dirt path in the direction indicated, following not the contours or a compass, but rather a drawing of a road winding between trees on the left and a small hill on the right. He lowered the map and inspected the road, finding it just as indicated. "Guess I can't knock it if it works…"
There were no Grimm that threatened him along the way and little sign of them. Some deer appeared briefly from the woods on the left but vanished back at the sight of him. The soldiers from the SDC probably patrolled the route, which explained why anyone would feel safe living in such an out of the way place. Eventually, less than half an hour away, he came upon the ringed wooden walls of the commune. They were at least four or so metres high and reinforced several times where damage from high winds and rain had taken its toll. The tips were sharpened to spikes, making the climb a treacherous option. He could jump or fly over but decided to try the gate first.
It wasn't open, but to his surprise there was a small door near it, with a rope pulley system that revealed a latch he could pull. It was just complicated enough that a Grimm couldn't use it, while being simple enough for someone in the dark to do so. The smaller door clicked open and he slipped inside, revealing a wide courtyard area with a large bonfire and several wooden racks. Some had furs and animal skins drying on them while others had normal clothes doing the same. There were also two or three large wooden troughs fit for washing clothes or bathing.
There was even a kennel, and more than one dog seemed excited to see him, barking at the unfamiliar face. But it was an excited barking, not an angry one- and locked away in cages against the border wall as they were, it was obvious they only cared about one sort of intruder- the Grimm kind. Seeing just another human, the oldest among them laid back down and went to sleep soon enough.
The houses were a little larger too, and constructed of timber instead of mud, adobe or some other combination of the two. One house at the centre stood a little larger, though still smaller than Tai's cottage back in Patch. The lower floor, up to about a foot or two, was stone and rock, while the rest of it consisted of timber frame dyed a dark colour by resin or sap, presumably to keep it all from rotting in the rain.
And there, above the front door, he saw a crude sword and shield insignia scratched into the door.
"Well, here we are, and here she should be," he grunted, moving for the house. "Unless she's stupid enough to go wandering off unarmed in which case I'm not even sure I can be bothered anymore." He sighed and moved up to the door, hammering his fist on it.
The door was study, probably sturdy enough to hold out against a Beowolf for a little while, but nothing he couldn't cut if he had to. Still, even he drew a line at forcing his way into someone else's house. Instead, he made his presence known – and his impatience – by shouting through it.
"Oi, brat! What part of `stay in Edge` did you not understand? I get that you know the area but that doesn't mean we all do. What are you going to do if someone else gets lost trying to find you?" he called.
No answer. No Response. And no sound of any belated and embarrassed rush to the door either.
"Hey! Open up! Don't think I want go in there and drag you back to Beacon if I have to!" Qrow called, banging on the door even harder. "I've had enough trouble looking for you today, so you can-"
"Oh, put a sock in it you bloody stranger!" some other voice called from another abode. "If you want to bloody talk to her, just open the door and do it yourself! Bloody city-folk," the neighbour complained, voice tapering off at the end.
Qrow had the shame to be a bit sheepish, if not deterred. Still… he looked at the door and tried the handle.
It opened without resistance, having never been locked in the first place.
"Well, I guess it's not forcing my way in if it's left open," Qrow reasoned. Stepping inside, his eyes adjusted for the gloom and saw-
/-/
The Diary of a Killer.
It sounded like a good name for a movie or best seller in his head, but that was literally what Ren had in his hands now as he sat in the rickety rocking chair of Butcher Pete's shack, the first proper seat he'd had since jumping out of the Bullhead. Scavenging the Butcher's shack for anything useful had been the first order of business once the body had been… disposed far enough away to no longer stink. They'd opened the door to let the breeze ease the odour too, to the point it was almost negligible. And then, in the last hours of light they'd had, they'd ransacked the shack for everything they could find.
Some of it was practical. Already Jaune's ammo-fabricating quiver was chugging away, using some of the scrap metal and the alarms they'd recovered earlier along with the dust from Mouk's cave to make new dust ammunition for Ren. Bullets were harder than arrows, but by the morning he should have an entire new clip - a much-appreciated safety net going forward. Some of the butcher's tools had also been repurposed- or outright seized by Jaune, who had shifted his pack to make room for the skinning knives and meat-cleaving blades. Never know when that might be useful in their own hunting, Jaune had said, without dwelling on just what they might have cut before.
They'd even found some extra clothes - raggedly old patchy cloth that at the very least could be used to patch and mend their own wear. Some… unmentionables had been left behind, but at the very least they had something like a towel now, perfect for wiping themselves dry after rinsing themselves in the rain.
Other stuff was… less practical. A grass-filled bed they couldn't take with them. The chair Ren appreciated while he could. They'd even found an entire meat cellar of Butcher's Pete's game, the game he'd have to have had in the time since everyone else left the frontier. Most of it was rotted of course, but still. Butcher Pete had his name honestly too, it seemed.
And, of course, the diary. Ren had offered it to Jaune when he found it, but the other boy had rudely declined the chance to read it. Or rather, made clear his only interest was in burning it as kindling.
Heresy, as far as Ren was concerned. Books and the knowledge they held within should always be protected, which was why he'd even made space in his own little tote bag for the small book he was now reading. Where Pete had gotten such wares…
Well, that was just one more thing that this book might answer. Ren sat on a rickety chair in front of a table smashed in two, small booklet in hand, while Jaune slept on the ratty thread-bare bed. He read to the light of a small fire in the small stone fireplace, which lit the room with dancing shadows, casting light on the macabre bloodstains in the permanently discoloured wood.
He tried not to notice the horrible stain where the faunus had died. He had no idea how Jaune could actually sleep in a place like this, but sleep the hunter was doing while Ren took first watch. He'd been offered it the other way around of course, but sleep? After witnessing this?
No thanks. Perhaps when his body was a little more spent.
So much about the situation didn't make sense, from what - or who - had killed the faunus, to what had convinced the man to go out with just his spear? Even from his short time with Jaune he'd come to learn that hunters were a cautious and meticulous lot, and if Pete was patient enough to set up traps around his home, then he'd surely take the time to ready each weapon before he went out on a hunt.
And speaking of the traps, how had he been surprised in his own home at all? The area outside had been littered with traps. If a Grimm had set off the single trap, Pete should have known. And if Pete had known a Grimm was approaching, and not tried to shoot it, he'd have wanted to fight it when it came through the door. Mad or not, he wouldn't have gone out there.
So, Ren read the man's book in hopes of finding answers, and maybe a little curiosity.
The diary provided little in the way of answers. Despite the usual means of movies, it didn't in fact end with a monologue confessing his crimes and a long-jagged spike of ink to the edge of a page splashed with blood. It was actually a rather well-kept and organised little thing with pages upon pages of neat handwriting.
Pete had apparently been quite learned, though that made sense because from what little Ren had read, he'd come from Vale originally. Like Jaune's legend, Pete's diary was sparse on detail as to why he'd left Vale, or more likely what he'd done to be driven out. Ren was rather grateful for that.
He was also grateful for the relative lack of detail Pete put into cataloguing his killings. Pages often referred to `meat` and some being more `tender` than others – and he really tried hard not to think on that – but for the most part Pete referred to his kills as others would game, referencing a `good hunt` at times, and complaining of how sparse the hunting had become since the frontier receded and the nearby villages were forced to evacuate.
Apparently, he'd been keen on sneaking into one of those evacuations but had seen someone he recognised at the last moment and realised they would out him. Psychopathic the man might have been, but his diary showed him to be rather intelligent and educated. The perfect murderer, he realised. Who would suspect the well-mannered and soft-spoken city man of being the killer? There were plenty of reasons for a faunus to want to escape the racism inherent in Vale, after all. Nothing unusual about one coming to the frontier, or not wanting to talk about his past.
What little did reference his victims was… not easy reading. Like many mad men - not that Ren had much experience, but he assumed it was the case – Pete liked to paint himself as the victim, or at least as being misunderstood in some way. He complained about being chased away by his people after he'd hunted them so much meat and game, all because he'd `taken some meat in return`. When it started to talk about a young girl who had caught his eye for her pale skin and tender complexion, Ren grimaced and skipped ahead.
Towards the end of the diary, Pete spoke about his friends. Friends who were not, by any indication, cannibals of their own or aware of Pete's preferences for human flesh. He didn't recognise the names of any of them but assumed they were from the village Jaune had mentioned before. It seemed Pete's isolation had taken a toll on him, and there were regular references to Fiend, or `my puppy` in the little book. It seemed that as the years passed, he'd become very frightened of the prospect of his only companion dying of old age and leaving him alone.
He doesn't have to worry about that now, I guess.
It wasn't much of a silver-lining for the man.
With a sigh, Ren put down the book and leaned back. The mention of friends had drawn his mind to his own, as it often did when he had a moment of peace. They might be back at Beacon by now and in lessons, and Jaune certainly seemed to think so, but he wasn't so sure himself. The mere idea of his team going back without him was… he couldn't imagine it. Not really.
He didn't like to sound arrogant and really didn't feel like he was all that great anyway, but his teammates always acted like he was, and he knew that if it were any of them missing, he'd have turned the Grimmlands inside out to try and find them. He more than anyone would have been equipped to find them. It wouldn't surprise him if they still were looking for him in turn, whether he wanted it or not.
Still, he couldn't shake the feeling they'd try. It was why he had to get back to them as soon as possible, so that they wouldn't do something silly and be hurt for it. If only their scrolls had any battery and the frontier a signal; life would have been much easier if everything was properly civilized out here.
A distant sound like thunder caught his attention, and after a second to tense and reach for his weapon, he realised it was thunder and not the traps outside being sprung. Jaune had placed a new one over the gap in Pete's system once it was obvious he wasn't around to hunt them. Whatever had killed him, and whatever had attacked them before, was still out there.
Another sound caught his ear when he relaxed back into the seat, relaxing to the sound of the wooden creak. It was low at first and hard to make out, especially with the rain that had started to fall, but it sounded like…
/-/
"Kid?" Qrow called, a bit quieter now that he'd stepped into the house. "You there?"
There was no answer from within, which wasn't precisely approval for him to enter but wasn't a refusal, either. The corridor he'd stepped into was really less of a hallway and more a narrow tunnel flanked with wood and sporting a small pile of boots and shoes of leather, fur and other material. Off to one side he could see a doorway – lacking a door, more of a hole in the wall, really – that led through to a dining room of some kind.
The large table in the centre could have fit eight easily, but there were only four seats around it. Each was roughly carved from wood and decorated with patterns cut directly into the backing. It was rustic at best, a pauper's seat at worst. It was obvious from that, and the general feel of the place, that nothing had been purchased that could instead be made with their own two hands.
There was no sound from the bottom floor, even when he poked his head in the kitchen and sniffed toward the open fire pit. No cutlery out, either, if they even had it. His eyes flicked back to the entrance instead and the rickety-looking staircase that led up to the second floor. He hadn't wanted to try that if he could help it. The thing looked like a death trap.
The first step creaked, making him wince and wait until it was done before he dared shift all his weight onto it. Despite the noise, the step held, and after a second's pause to make sure that wasn't a cruel illusion, he dared for another. The construction was solid enough, the noise notwithstanding, and he slowly made his way up with one hand on the rough banister. The floorboards of the second floor creaked just as bad, but at least the rough rug laid down helped muffle it somewhat.
"Place is bigger than it looks," he realised. Compared to the homes in Edge it was a palace, though it still would have ranked as one of the lowliest dives in Vale or any other city. The second floor appeared to be mostly living quarters, with doors leading off each side of a central corridor. Most of them were open, though not used. His eyes scanned over dusty beds and wooden chests, with only the shape and colour of a few trinkets to indicate whether it was a male or female who had lives inside. One or two were a little cleaner, presumably still lived in.
Many were not.
It was the last one he reached that was the cleanest, and the only one where the door was closed. Well worn and obviously recently washed, it couldn't have been the brat's, not when she'd been in Beacon for the last few months. A bow, unstrung, lay beside the door, and he realised just whose it was a second later.
It was the guide's; the one that Team RWBY had lost. Her brother, if he recalled…
There was no good reason to delay, not after violating so many people's privacy, but then… things like this were never easy. He was a good huntsman but a shoddy person, especially when it came to grief. You'd think living through it would make one more understanding, but, well… it didn't.
It'd make sense if the girl were here, though. Summer's room had become a shrine of sorts too, for a while. Where everyone had gone to think of the last encounter, the last memories, the last ways they'd said goodbye, not realizing it'd be the last.
What was going through her mind? There was only one way to find out.
Qrow tactfully, but firmly, knocked on the door.
A low growl answered, one that almost made Qrow reach for his weapon as arm-hairs raised. But only for a moment, before there was the sound of a shuffling and something hitting wood.
"Uncle? Hold on- give me a moment!" the feminine voice inside called, raspy with thirst and a suppressed sniffle. It was still a relieving response to hear. "I'm sorry, give me a second, I just-" excuses flowed as the source moved closer, the sounds of moving fabric accompanied no doubt by a wipe of the eyes and nose.
The door opened, and there she was, the last brat, the leader of the ill-fated Team JNPR, and the cause of this day's trouble and so much more. Blonde hair, smooth skin, and fair blue eyes ruined red with crying all framed a beaten girl who couldn't quite look him in the eyes.
"Uncle, I know what you're going to say but please…" she began, but then realized Qrow wasn't he.
"Oh," she paused, before covering one hand with the other and made a short, polite bow. "You're Ruby's Uncle, right? She told me you might come. I'm sorry I didn't hear you come in, I just…"
She trailed off, realizing his unnatural silence, and looked back up. Seeing his expression, she cocked her head to the side in the confusion. Blonde hair framed brilliant blue eyes that bore into his, despite a lack of recognition.
"I'm sorry, is there… something wrong?"
Blond hair framed brilliant blue eyes that bore into him, desperately urgent. "Please! Someone! Anyone! Our village is under attack, and my Dad can't handle it alone! We need help! We need a-"
"-Huntsman? Huntsman, are you alright?"
Qrow stumbled back, face pale in horror.
"You- you're that-!"
/-/
Far, far away, Ren swore he heard it again. Something from outside.
There, again – a noise like a high-pitched whine with a little stutter. It was a whimper or a cry, and not from a human by the sound of it. Not Grimm either, since they wouldn't be calling out in pain if they were nearby.
Could it be the hunter's dog?
Grimm didn't bother killing animals, usually, and the chain had been snapped. Perhaps it had escaped. Maybe it had returned. Too late for its master, but-
The whimpering came again, closer – but not too close. He could just hear it faintly over the sound of the rain on the roof of the little shack. Was it possible the dog had noticed the house being used, and now thought its owner was still there?
He looked towards Jaune for an answer, but the hunter was asleep rolled over in a corner, fit snugly into his sleeping bag with his bow beside him. After tracking and marching all day, he was tired and probably wouldn't appreciate being woken up.
It wouldn't hurt to take a small look outside, though. Not to leave the house, of course, but at least to see if the dog had returned. If it was hurt, it wouldn't prove much of a threat, and if they could convince it to share some of their food… maybe they could recruit it as their own companion?
No Grimm would be able to sneak up on them with a dog around.
The door rattled a little as he opened it, the rain pelting off the wood as he pushed it out and stuck his head into the dark. The noise had stopped the moment he did, which made sense if the animal was nervous. Ren checked the post from before, but the wooden stake was still driven into the ground and the blood, chain and furrows of dirt and soil were as they'd always been, bar the fact it had now filled with dirty water to become a puddle.
He couldn't see much further in this blackness- the rain clouds covering the moon once more- and couldn't see the dog at all. Between heading out into the pitch-dark rain or waiting until morning…
He began to close the door, until the dog whimpered again.
This time, he stepped out of the door a pace, risking the rain that dampened his hair as he strained his hearing to pinpoint the sound. It was close, but not so close as to be upon them. It was somewhere off beyond the traps, in the trees towards the west or south.
The dog barked. It sounded excited now, almost hopeful, begging. It was also a little further away, though. Not as close to the house as he'd thought.
And then, faintly, he heard what he swore was laughter in the distance.
Grimm didn't laugh. Animals didn't laugh, either.
"Hello?" Ren tentatively called into the rain, looking out into the darkness.
Were there people out there? Survivors? Other hunters? Frontiers people who had stayed despite all the warnings?
Or people who had come in later regardless? Nomads? Huntsmen?
Friends…?
The dog barked again, eager and encouraging. It was a timbre he thought he recognized. He couldn't be sure through the rain, but still… Still…
"Ein? Zwei?" he called.
A happy yip… and then a hint of laughter, ringing like bells. Who else would never give up on him?
"…Julia?"
He stepped off the porch, and a branch cracked.
But not beneath his feet.
"Ren!"
Ren only had time to feel the malevolent intent, and see something reaching out of the dark, before everything went loud and black.
/-/
Ren came to on his back and with a ringing headache, which wasn't helped by the shaking.
"Wake up, wake up you damn Huntsman bastard," he heard above him. "Don't you dare do this to me now of all times…!"
Ren groaned, which was about the best he could do to say he was awake. It also said he ached, and his spine ached, and he had the feeling of splinters poking against him…
But none of that mattered to the blue eyes peering down upon him, eyes wide with- dare he say it- fear?
And then, upon seeing his eyes, Jaune punched him, lightly, in the chest. Slammed his hand down on the ribs, at least.
"Ren, you idiot," Jaune hissed, blinking enough for Ren to see. "What were you thinking?"
"Wha- what happened?" Ren groaned, trying to sit up. Jaune let him, and with a look around he could see he was inside the cabin once more. Suddenly the bloodstained floor didn't bother him as much anymore- not when it looked like half of the floor and a corner of the shack had been torn away, with naught but a few wires of Jaune's traps covering the corner.
"You tell me- I just asked you!" Jaune returned, even as he brought a canteen out and passed it to Ren. Ren accepted it easily to take a swig, even as Jaune checked the room- and the gaping hole- with him. "One moment I'm sleeping, the next I wake up and realize you're gone, and then you fly through the wall into the fireplace!"
Ah, that might explain the splinters and the headache- and why his aura felt like he'd been thrown into a wood chipper. He'd been the woodchipper to that shanty wall.
"I felt something attack me," Ren said. "From outside."
"That explains the alarms, at least," Jaune said, throwing an unquestionably cautious look outside. Now that he listened for it Ren could swear he heard a few of the exterior traps still rattling. "Whatever it was, it ran off when you flew in here. But still - it knocked a Huntsman like you all the way through the wall?" Jaune asked, a hint of surprise and wariness in his words, even Ren frowned and shook his head.
"No, I jumped," he clarified, the memories coming back slightly. The instinctive dodge… and the lack of instinctual aura before he hit the wooden wall, taking him by surprise as he'd thrown himself back and apparently through the wall. "It wasn't striking, it was… reaching. Grabbing. Everything else was instinct."
Jaune chilled.
"Did you say grabbing?" he asked.
"I think so," Ren said, shaking his head, thoughts still addled. "It was right after-" he sat straight up, remembering. "It's still out there!" he realized, mind lagging. "We have to warn them!"
"Them?" Jaune asked, obviously confused. "Them who?"
"My team!" Ren said, exhilaration powering through delirious exhaustion. "I knew it! My friends, your sister! They're still looking for us! They're close, I heard them, but we have to warn them about-"
He saw the hand approaching before he felt the slap. Even the flash of aura didn't stop the sting.
"I told you," Jaune hissed, glaring with all his might to get his point across. "Your team isn't here. My sister isn't here. No one but me is here! Now tell me, what did you hear?"
"I heard laughter," Ren said, shaken by Jaune's intensity. "And a dog barking in the dark."
He wasn't sure what he was expecting, but Jaune looking like he'd seen a ghost wasn't it.
"A dog… barked?" Jaune repeated, almost whispering. "But it didn't come close?"
"Yeah," Ren said, now his turn to be confused. "It sounded hurt. I thought it might have been afraid of us, but when I stepped out-"
Jaune never heard what he'd intended to do, because Jaune had already stood up and marched directly to his bow, before grabbing it moving directly to the door and looking outside. He'd see nothing, of course, but…
"No, no, no, no, no," Jaune muttered, looking outside into the now-silent night. "It can't be- it can't be. I thought-"
"What?" Ren asked. "I thought it was Pete's dog at first- you know, after hearing it the last few nights- but-"
Jaune whirled. "What?!" he demanded, tripping over himself. "Why would you even want to see if you thought - You heard - why didn't you wake me?!" he demanded.
"For what? It was just a dog - you told me they're common here, right?" Ren asked. "And then you told me about Pete, and then - didn't you hear it too?"
I didn't. Of course I didn't, I was asleep, and thought-" Jaune growled. He clenched his eyes shut but didn't take a deep breath. "Of course it didn't try when I was awake. Damn it!" he snapped. "Damn it, damn it, damn it. I'm so stupid! How did I miss the signs? How did I not realise? The dog- the claw marks-"
"Jaune…?"
"And you! How stupid are you?" Jaune whirled, ire indiscriminate as his voice rose. "Dogs are social creatures! They travel in packs, or seek out humans, not hide in the darkness by themselves! Don't you know that? Didn't she tell you anything?"
"Who? About what?" Ren asked, too off-kilter to be much offended yet.
"That dog-stealing bitch! And-"
And then Jaune abruptly, obviously, remembered to compose himself, and did so with a deliberate pause to breath.
When he let it go, it looked at Ren with passionless-eyes, and an eerily-even voice.
"Tell me, Huntsman," Jaune began, looking him dead in the eye.
"Have you ever heard of The Legend of Dogsnatcher?"
CF's notes:
Mixed thoughts and a lesson for all. Sometimes you have a scene in mind that's really great in your head, but that's not as easy to realize as you hoped. This chapter ended on one of them - a point the arc was always supposed to build towards but was a bit hard to reach along the ways. All my fault, and none Coeur's, who did the best with what I directed in the time I gave him.
So, get ready to meet Dogsnatcher - the true villain of the arc, and the one always intended to be the first real boss for our boys to face. (Yes, once upon a time Mouk was a much smaller monster, figuratively speaking.). Butcher Pete? A side-show, a red herring, a monster to set the mood. Just a little legend we wanted to share, fitting that idea of spreading lore by legend. Some of you might have noted the discrepancies yourself. Why would a blood-thirsty cannibal be living in the abandoned frontier? Why the badly placed traps?
Well, now you know. It wasn't Pete. And next chapter, we'll get to learn a little more about our new nemesis, and how it affects our boys.
Next Chapter: 28th April
P a treon . com (slash) Coeur