Robin Mauve was alone. Cold wind whistled past her ears as she ran into the forest. Belladonna was wounded, and she couldn't heal unless her poison was cured. Sapphire knew the recipe, and Robin knew how to brew. Her friends had scattered to the four winds. Mud was guarding Belladonna. Kale was searching the plains for daffodils. Sapphire was scouring the buildings for woodshrooms. Robin set out for the ingredient that was easiest to get wrong, and closest to the Grimm.
That was her first thought when she dropped into cover. Twenty meters ahead, a dark orb releasing crescents of red energy pulsed in the night. She saw the bony face of a monster emerge, and she knew she was in trouble. She knew she couldn't retreat. She placed a sparkler with a remote charge on the tree beside her, then scurried around to the thing's right flank. She waited for it to move, and she held her breath when it did.
It walked on hind legs, like the things that had chased them. It wore armor. It had a katana on its left hip.
"You're a huntsman," Robin breathed.
Her target's head snapped to the sound, then stepped into concealment and vanished.
"But not a friend," she realized too late.
"No," a voice whispered behind her.
She half-turned. A blade at her neck stopped her. She felt the tingle of Dust on its tip. Robin held very still. She was waiting for a moment to run.
"What are you doing here?" the Huntress asked, her voice harrowed by the Grimm bone mask.
"I'm a student from Beacon. I need help," Robin whimpered.
The Huntress sheathed her sword and stepped into moonlight. The four eyes of her mask shone in the light. The bottom row blinked. The rest of her was red and black, a kimono and combat skirt with hyper-fine stitching. Robin recognized Vale craftsmanship immediately. This couldn't be a rogue.
The huntress turned and walked away.
"Wait," Robin cried, "aren't... Wait! Aren't you going to help me?"
"No," the stranger called, her voice as hollow as the rejection.
"But, I need your help!"
The stranger stopped and turned to face her again.
"You're a student."
"Yes! I need to find Vulgaris or my professor-"
"-Stop. You won't get pity from me, so stop that whining sound."
"But-"
"No. You're a student. That means you have no money and no goods. There's nothing you have that I need. So we have no business. They didn't teach you that about the wild, did they? You still think Goliaths are the top of the food chain and death is the worst that can happen. They teach you how to serve the kingdoms, but you know nothing about the world. So here: let me teach you a lesson."
She lunged. A blade flashed. Robin recognized Iaijutsu. The quick-draw triggered her reflexes and she back-stepped out of the blade's range. Then it doubled in length as it cleared its sheath. Her cheek burned. A kinetic blast floored her. Droplets of blood gathered on her face, and she watched in stunned terror as they drifted from her skin and hovered to the blade.
The huntress raised her mask. She had raven hair, crimson eyes, and a swift pink tongue that cleaned her blade. The mask lowered, the blade sheathed, and she growled, "Nothing is free."
Robin trembled. She had fallen to her back, and the huntress was staying in position for a coup de grace.
"Well? Get up. You can't find it if you stay here."
"Yes, Ma'am," Robin nodded. She stood.
"Cold," The Huntress stated.
Robin knew better than to ask. She waited, breathed, and tested the waters by taking a step back.
"Warmer," The Huntress stated.
"You've got to be kidding."
"I said it isn't free. I didn't say you're paid in full. Now entertain me."
Robin stepped to her right to lean against a tree and address her face wound.
"Colder."
"You're a regular Raven Branwen," Robin sneered.
She froze, and realized with a start who she was speaking to. Raven had a similar static shock in her posture.
"You're quick. I like that," she cooed.
Robin's wound was already healed. She hadn't been cut deep. She expected that it wasn't the only trick Raven had. She'd been in fairy tales for a while now, sometimes as a hero, others as a villain. She was in more villain tales recently, and there were rumors that she had shed her humanity in pursuit of magic. Robin forced herself to think of her team. They were waiting for her to bring Vulgaris petals. She walked.
"Warmer."
They walked together, Raven following her with folded arms and a smirk in her voice. The walk into the forest was deep and winding. Raven would bring her to a place and then decide she was mistaken.
"Oh, wait..." she cooed the third time, "Maybe it was before the low copse."
Robin was cold. She was tired. She'd run dry on adrenaline in the firefight. She had nothing but bad ideas, and hope.
"I appreciate your help, Miss Branwen, but-"
"Mrs," she corrected.
"I- I don't-"
"There was no divorce."
"Mrs. Branwen, I appreciate your help, but I don't have time. Is there a faster way I can entertain you? I know how to juggle. I can sing. I know stories. But please, my instructor is poisoned, and she needs Vulgaris to cure her or she'll die of her wounds."
"That's so tragic," Branwen noted.
Raven had the appearance of thinking, then she flattened her combat skirt and sat. She removed a sack from her pack, and laid out a whole bushel of Vulgaris petals beside her.
"You need more than you could have picked in an hour, little girl. I happen to have it. So I propose-"
Robin pointed at the Vulgaris and stepped too close. A blade flashed and cut her palm.
"That's close enough," Raven hissed.
Robin stepped back. Branwen flicked her blade, and its length evaporated with the dust enhancement. She returned it to the sheath, where Robin noted a revolver-action infuser. She understood the trick and had a good judgment on the blade's maximum length now. She was ready for a fight, if it came to it.
"I'm sorry," she shivered.
"I was proposing a quick solution. Sit."
Raven gestured. Robin obeyed. The dirt here was moist and rich. The smell of soil wafted from every surface, as if the whole of the place was a tea steeped too long. Branwen had the look of shadows out of place. Her red and Black contrasted in the blended darkness of nature. She removed her mask, to show Robin a stern face.
"I'm going to tell you a riddle, for free. You have three guesses. If you solve the riddle, you may have my Vulgaris."
As she spoke, she removed tea leaves from her pack, and a pot, and a burn crystal, cut.
She began her brewing, and then looked to Robin for her reaction. Robin's only preparation was to hug herself tighter and find a comfortable way to sit on a log.
"What if I guess wrong?" she was wise enough to ask.
"Then I sell you another riddle," Branwen stated.
"Okay," Robin nodded.
Raven held up a hand.
"You know who I am."
"Yes."
"You know I won't hurt you if walk away."
"... Yes?"
"You know I hurt the people who stay near to me."
Robin looked at the Vulgaris. She knew she couldn't leave.
"I'm going to have a lot of fun with you," Raven smiled.
She took a piece of chalk from her bag and wrote something on a rock. She placed the writing face-down.
And then she gave her riddle.
"I hunger.
Maidens vex me.
Ritual is my scialytic.
Sanguinolent Intelligence, lacking malevolent ardence.
Aura fuels my body.
Death, my soul.
I hunger."
"The Grimm," Robin blurted.
Raven blinked. She offered no hints.
"But..."
Robin thought it through. The answer was something with insatiable hunger. Scyalitic meant something about shadows. Ritual was a human trait.
Robin guessed, "Humanity and/or the Faunus, whatever it's called when you include both?"
She squinted. A corner of Raven's mouth hung open.
"You poor girl," she cooed, "Is it hard to be stupid?"
The grimace became a very broad smile. Robin had been staring at Raven's face for a while. Only now did she notice that her smile was too wide, and that her teeth were sharpened. Even without her mask, it was hard to tell her apart from a Grimm. Her crimson eyes blinked.
Robin focused back on the riddle. At its face value, she was meant to think of humanity and the Grimm, about their similarities. But there were problems. Maidens don't vex humanity. Grimm have no rituals or gods. Aura fuels the soul, not the body. Death fuels the soul of a Grimm, but not humans. Well... It depends on the human.
"The Schnees?" she tried.
She wished Sapphire was there. She wished Mud was there. She wished a lot of other things. Raven took her time reacting. She checked her teapot, which gave the verdict.
"It'll still take a few minutes to boil," she muttered.
She tipped the rock face-up, to show where she had written "Balefire."
"That's not fair. I don't know what that is," Robin pointed.
Raven scowled at her hand. Robin retracted it, remembering the pain from last time.
"There are other ways for you to get my Vulgaris petals," Raven hissed.
"And I assure you, they are much less fair."
Her hand had moved to her sword. She relaxed it again.
"The Balefire is the smartest of the Grimm," Raven explained.
"But I thought Goliaths-"
"I already told you they aren't. I'll explain the riddle. Grimm, like humanity, have a hunger that they can never sate. Maidens vex the Grimm, but not humanity. Balefires are the only Grimm with rituals. For example, they have a scialytic ritual, for banishing the shadow from their bodies. It renders them invisible. They have rituals that stop them from aging as well. Sanguinolent intelligence is another unique feature of the Balefire. They are not compelled by emotion, like the other Grimm. Aura fuels their immortality ritual. Killing fuels a Grimm's soul. The last line was just prose."
Her tea was boiling. She addressed the pot, and Robin saw her chance to sprint and steal the Vulgaris. She hadn't revealed her semblance yet. She had a chance, and Raven's guard appeared to be down. Temperance won. She watched Raven pour the tea, and realized that she was being watched in the metal reflection of the pot. Raven enjoyed a sip and relaxed.
"We can negotiate now, if you'd like to buy another riddle."
Her smile returned, this time voracious.
"But you'll sell me another riddle that I have no chance of guessing!"
"Then we can negotiate for the Vulgaris," she decided.
Her eyes sparkled. Her smile, and her teeth, seemed to sharpen.
"But you said-"
"I've changed my mind. Cut off your hand and give it to me. That's what I want for the Vulgaris petals."
She sipped her tea while Robin was stunned.
"No!"
"I was going to charge a finger per riddle. At least this way, you get to keep some. And we save time, too."
"I... I can't cut off my own hand!"
"It's easier than it seems," Raven cooed, "with the right motivation. What was that sad, sad story you told me?"
Belladonna. Robin's team would be waiting for her. She thought of Mud. He would never forgive her. And she wouldn't be the first Huntress to lose a hand.
"I'll do it," she said, "But you give me all of the Vulgaris, and our business is done."
Raven nodded. She sipped her tea, and leaned in to watch. Robin had a utility knife. She knew to make quick work of it, and to prepare her bandages beforehand. She steadied her breathing, and readied her aura.
"Roll your sleeve up," Raven suggested.
"I need it to tie the wound," Robin mumbled.
"Don't blame me if the cut's crooked," Raven acquiesced.
The blade moved. Robin didn't cry. She watched her own hands work, but felt nothing. She emphasized her strength in the middle, and her finesse to separate the skin at the end. She made quick work covering the wound. She sniffled. Tears streamed. It was not the pain, but the presence of such an evil woman- her mere existence. She belonged back in her fairy tale.
The hand was in a sack, and Robin tossed it across their divide. Raven smiled at it, and tossed her sack of Vulgaris in return. Robin turned. She expected resistance. Her plan was to run. If she had to fight, it wouldn't be on the ground Raven had chosen. She had enough surprises to gain the upper hand now, so to speak. But she did not expect Raven's parting words.
"Enjoy the labyrinth, Robin."
Robin stopped. She considered. And she realized, with a jolt of fear, that she had lost her bearings. She turned on Raven, her stump arm clutched close.
"This was a trap."
"No. Just insurance," Raven hummed.
She tipped the hand-sack over, and let the prosthetic roll away into the dirt.
"I don't like being swindled," Raven said, "So I took you into this artificial forest. The Balefires planted every tree themselves. It took them twenty years, but they've had their fill of Huntsmen since. You have no chance of escaping here without my help. And I want your hand."
The ruse was over, so Robin pushed her real hand out of her sleeve and pressed the detonator in her pocket. The sparkler rose up into the sky, and she had all the bearing she needed.
"Get juked, hag!" were her parting words.
She ran.