Summer slept through the rest of the day, and well into the next one. She only awoke a few times to make food for Ruby and promise that as soon as she could, she'd take him to see their father. In the mean time, she let him borrow her scroll, to talk to their dad through it. It relieved his anxiety immensely to hear his father's voice and see that he really was okay, and two days after the Grimm attack, Summer and Ruby took the bus to go and visit him.

Like his oldest child, Ash Rose was a stubborn cuss, never where he ought to be when he was supposed to be there. When they went to his room during visiting hours only to discover he'd wandered off to another part of the hospital, it took them a while to locate him. They found their dad with a crowd of other hunters, all of them haunting the hallways of another ward with the same air of hollow expectation.

His foot wrapped up in a cast, Ash hopped around the others to greet his children as they came running over to him, feet stomping on the tiled floors and causing more noise than was recommended for such a delicate area. "Dad!" Ruby said, throwing himself at his father without thinking. Ash caught him easily in one arm, still managing to keep balance on his crutch.

"Hey buddy," he said, kissing his forehead. A few hunters glanced their way, torn from their private worlds at the commotion the Rose family made. They all looked gaunt, the way Summer had the night she came home. Many of them sported injuries like their father's. "Look what I got! A big white cast for you to draw on."

"Does it hurt?" Ruby needed to know, letting his dad set him down so he could look at it better. Cautious, he touched it lightly— and then retracted it as quick as if he had been burned when Ash yelped in pain. About to apologize, he instead pouted when Ash started laughing at him.

"Gotcha," Ash said, pinching his nose. "Don't worry, it doesn't hurt at all. You can touch the cast all you want."

Bringing attention to herself, Summer cleared her throat. "Hi, dad."

His eyes scanned her up and down, smile dropping a few molars. "Summer," he said. She avoided his gaze, eyes down. Hopping over to her, he gestured for her to come closer; she did, and he pulled her into a one armed hug, holding her head against his chest. "You fought like a champion the other day," he said, kissing the top of her head. "I'm so proud."

"Dad," Ruby said, interrupting. "We had to walk all over the hospital looking for you. You're supposed to be resting. Summer told me a Grimm almost took off your leg!"

"I'm sorry," he said, genuinely sounding so. Still holding onto Summer, he rested against her slightly as she squeezed her arms around him, still quiet. Gesturing at the sign above the door they hovered around, he asked Ruby, "Do you know what that sign says?"

Ruby studied it carefully. "Eyekoo?" he hazarded. Another huntress, leaning against the wall further down the hallway, heard him and laughed, shortly. Burning up at the realization that he'd made a mistake, Ruby glared down at his shoes, trying not to say anything else that would get any attention.

His dad didn't seem to notice or care, just correcting him without judgement. "It's just the letters. ICU. They stand for Intensive Care Unit. It's where they take care of people who are very sick, and need extra attention." Letting go of Summer after giving her one last crushing hug, he guided Ruby over to the big double doors. There was a small aperture between them, too high up for him to see until Ash hoisted him up. He could see the corners of a few beds— maybe six, or eight. All of them were full, silent. No movement or activity could be seen from within, except for the occasional nurse making rounds. "This is where they're taking care of the people who we managed to get out of that town the other night," he said, quietly. "We're standing vigil."

Sudden excitement thrilled within him. He knew what that word meant for sure. "So you're like, being their guard," he said, pleased with himself.

"That's right. It's exactly like being a guard."

Ruby puffed out his chest, looking over his shoulder to see if Summer was paying attention. She wasn't, but when Ruby saw why, he couldn't blame her.

A cat had walked into their midst, plumed tail held high like a banner. He looked to be a long-haired breed, with creamy white coloration and dark tan ears. Sitting in front of the doorway to the ICU, he looked up at it with wide amber eyes, waiting for something. Crouching next to it, Summer extended a hand to see it it would bite. His ears didn't flatten and he didn't flinch away, so she tried petting him. He reacted like most cats would, rubbing his cheeks roughly on her palm, but he didn't move from his spot.

"There he goes again," their dad said. "That weird stray was here yesterday, too."

Still scratching him under his chin, Summer felt a collar underneath his thick fur. Her lips twisted when she found his name tag, certain it was some kind of sick joke.

GRIMM — OFFICIAL HOSPITAL CAT

"He's not stray, Daddy, he's… got a tag," she said, sounding repulsed. But other than his terrible name, Grimm seemed to be a very laid-back cat, accepting her hands on him without even a meow of protest. "It says he's the 'official hospital cat'. Whatever that means."

One did not simply see a friendly cat and refuse to pet it. Ruby had also crouched down next to her, offering the cat a hand to sniff. He butted his head against Ruby's hand in response, chest rumbling as Summer started scratching behind his ears. "Aww, what a sweetie. Listen, he's purring!"

"Why does a hospital have a cat?" Summer wondered even as she stroked him. She'd heard of people sometimes bringing dogs to visit very sick patients, but not cats. And she didn't think they generally had free reign to wander wherever they pleased.

"Why wouldn't a hospital have a cat?" someone new ventured. Looking up to see who had come to stand over them, Ruby turned an excellent shade of scarlet. Nudging Summer hard in the ribs to get her attention, he could only gape at the newcomer.

The Huntsman stood tall and straight, brown eyed, with white streaks threading through his thick black hair though he didn't look much older than Ash. He walked with a certain kind of dangerous ease, despite the gimp in his leg, and the heavy way he leaned on his cane. It was his aura, his presence, that declared him a Huntsman more than anything else.

"Hello," he said down to them before also getting on their level to pet the cat. Ruby tried to look everywhere but at him, already turning several shades darker. If it kept up, he'd be purple by the end of the hour. "I see you've met Grimm. He's an important member of the staff here."

Still red as a beet, Ruby didn't wait for the rest. Quickly excusing himself, he scuttled down the hallway and round his father, hiding behind his legs. "Ruby, don't be rude," Ash mumbled to him. "Introduce yourself."

Ruby didn't respond, just shaking his head violently. He couldn't. He just couldn't talk to him.

That was Professor Ozpin. The Ozpin. Headmaster of Beacon Academy, the greatest hunting school in Remnant.

You don't just talk to Professor Ozpin.

But that was exactly what Summer did, standing up straight to offer him her hand. He took it, shaking it brief and curt. "Hello, sir," she said. "Ignore Ruby, he's shy. I'm Summer Rose, I don't think we've met outside of the field." The other huntsmen and huntresses also came in to shake his hand, some of them already his acquaintance, others introducing themselves as Summer had. Everyone who was anyone knew of the Headmaster of Beacon. He regularly churned out some of the greatest Huntsmen and Huntresses of the past decade. People waged academic war for the chance to be admitted there.

As the men and women started up conversation about— what else, hunting— Grimm sat, unperturbed by the people stepping around him. He waited in front of the door like a little Huntsman himself, Ruby realized. Standing vigil. He seemed like a part of the hospital itself, his pale white fur blending in with the stark walls and tiled floors.

When visiting hours started, a nurse opened the door to let them in. Grimm zipped past him, giving his legs a friendly rub before trotting into the ICU with his maned tail straight and proud. "There's only one visitor allowed per patient," he said to the huntsmen and huntresses gathered there. "Family members take precedence."

"There won't be any," Summer said. "Anyone who made it out of that town alive is either a hunter, or in that room."

Nobody really had anything else to add to that. Ruby tried to look past the nurse, to see inside. How many people were in that room? It didn't look much larger than the other wards.

People who treated Grimm victims and the huntsmen who brought them in had a special relationship, an understanding that civilians couldn't tune into. All Ruby could tell was that the nurse seemed exhausted— it painted his every move. "Well." The nurse took a short breath, sounding pained. "Then I guess eight of you can come inside."

Eight.

Ruby suddenly felt very cold.

"Were all of you at the all-call last night?" the nurse wanted to know as eight hunters shuffled inside to pay their respects to the people they had tried to save.

"Yes," Ozpin answered. "There were multiple sectors under attack, but one got hit harder than the rest. Every hunter here was in that town. The town we lost." He paused. "…We also lost no small number of our own."

"I haven't seen a swarm like that in years," Ruby's father agreed. "Not since before my children were born."

"Even this one?" Ozpin asked, nodding his head over to Summer. Ash confirmed; even that one. Turning his attention to Summer now, Ozpin leaned lighter on his cane at the sight of her. "I saw you on the field last night, Miss Rose. The fencer in the white cape." He smiled faintly. "You were a sight to behold."

This wasn't news to Summer. She was top of her class, a tournament champion. She fielded the compliment with the same grace she usually did— that is to say, with no grace at all. "That's because I'm the best fencer in Vale," she said. For the first time since that night she came home from the all-call, Ruby saw the spark of rebellion return to her eyes. The careless, twisted, arrogant grin.

The nurse frowned. "You seem awfully young to be a Huntress, if you don't mind me saying."

She put on hand on her hip, tossing her hair with a careless flick of her head. "That's cause I'm not a Huntress! Not yet, anyway. I'm still in combat school. But I'm on the list for all-calls, just like the upperclassmen getting ready to transfer."

Ash's lips pressed together, thin and tight to keep from saying anything too quick. "Summer is very talented, just like her mother was." Giving her a stern look, he added, "Though she doesn't seem to understand that it's rude to proclaim to be the best fencer in Vale while standing in front of the actual best fencer in Vale." He pointed his chin over at Ozpin, who quietly protested his greatness.

Her eyebrows quirked up at that news; then, realizing who Ash meant by the comment, she gave Ozpin another up-and-down, regarding him with narrowed eyes and her father's tight smile. "I wasn't being rude. I was just saying what I think is true. Professor Ozpin, do you think it's rude of me to say I'm better than you?"

"Presumptuous might be the word I'd use, Summer Rose," Ozpin said easily. If Summer ruffled him at all, he didn't show it. "If you were a little older, I might even say 'arrogant'."

"I can live with arrogant."

Ears turning pink, Ash opened his mouth to say something when the nurse stepped aside to let one of the visiting Huntsmen out of the ICU. Seeing her chance, Summer darted inside to take their place.

Uncomfortable in his skin, Ash just said, "I'm sorry, Professor. She's… she's very… she's a handful, sometimes," he finished lamely, one hand reaching behind him to ruffle Ruby's hair. Ruby, for his part, still clung to Ash and refused to make eye contact with Ozpin.

"I'm sure she is." Ozpin's thumb rolled over the tip of his cane. Ruby saw that while the rest of it shone from regular polish and care, the spot where Ozpin's thumb stroked was dull from the repetitive motion, worn down by the idle habit. "I'm sure she is."