Next Update: Monday, April 30th.

Chapter 8

Deep in the forests, the huntsman had searched for hours. The sun now high in the sky. Yet no matter how good of a tracker he was, he couldn't find the child he'd been put in charge of. Scratching his scruffy stubble, the huntsman slouched against a tree, reaching for some long lost insight about how to deal with a missing child. Sadly, his memories were foggy now. They were dulled by the drink that so consumed his every waking desires, and fitful dreams.

"God damn kid." The dark haired man mumbled to himself bitterly. "Where the hell did he get off too now?"

Buried deep in the foliage of Mistral's woodlands, the lone vagabond cursed to himself. He was an expert tracker, but he was a terrible babysitter. He swigged from his flask to fortify himself, already in search of any hint to where the Atlas born lad had wandered off to. "Just my luck, getting saddled with a kid who hates me." He continued to rant, his tongue particularly loose from all of his imbibing as of late. "Should have known I do better with girls." The he smirked to himself. "Least they could take care of themselves…"

He scratched the back of his head as he kept looking. A fallen tree showed no signs of a lost child, and the footpath left no distinguishable tracks. The tall grasses were trampled, but if that was because of humans, or because of a Grimm, he wasn't sure. He followed it carefully, just in case it was a trick of the mind. "Winter's going to kill me if she finds out about this." He said, leaning on another tree trunk to take another swig of booze from his flask.

"Okay, jackass, think!" He demanded of himself. "Can't be that fuckin' hard to find him…not like he just up and vanished."

He closed his eyes to ward away the hangover he had been nursing, thinking about where he could search next. He rubbed his face, the stubble poking roughly into his hand. He looked like hell, but he could hardly bring himself to care. Rubbing his hands together, and breathing warm air into them to ward away the chill, he began to get just a little anxious. Already, he could feel the wrath of the boy's older sister just as soon as she found out the truth.

He had to do something before then.

He recalled why he had been given the task to babysit the youngest of the Schnee siblings. It was a messy, family related ordeal. Apparently the rebellious middle child had been cast aside, and Winter had been furious to find out. She retaliated against her father, and stormed out of the house, her youngest sibling in tow. She didn't think it wise to leave the boy at home, making her a kidnapper. Of course, she couldn't expect to protect the boy on her own in the wilds filled with Grimm, so, she had called the one hunter she knew trustworthy enough, discrete enough, to take the job without asking any questions.

Winter had been rather occupied on her travels, leading them to Mistral, where she suspected Weiss to be.

Qrow insisted that staying in any of the populated areas might put them under scrutiny. Winter was inclined to agree. They set up a camp in the old bandit territory. Winter thought it to be a place of degenerates, she often complained as much. Still, Qrow insisted they stay here. He knew these forests, living among them when he was just a child himself. No one would think to look for a Schnee in these parts.

There was only one problem.

No one would even dare lose a Schnee in these wilds, either. If a bandit got to him, Whitley would be sold off too fast for Qrow to catch him. The drunk man worried that might be the case. With his stomach growling, he only had time to grab a piece of beef jerky from his pocket. Biting into it, he continued on his trail. "Alright then, squirt, where'd you get to?"

"Qrow Branwen!"

He flinched under the fury in that voice.

"Yo?"

"Where is my little brother?"

"Oh, son of a bitch…" Qrow muttered to himself. He could see the white haired woman, garbed in an equally bright uniform. It was hardly made for subtly, as she marched through the trees and bushes. Winter was going to try and murder him, and he was just drunk enough that she might actually succeed this time. Everyone knew her time in the Atlas military had honed her skills to a fine point. She had a harsh personality, strict and stringent to go along with it.

She didn't tolerate lapses of oversight from anyone, and downright sloppiness was a direct invitation to provoke her ire.

Qrow rolled his eyes, ready to defend himself as he considered every excuse in the book. Then, he foggily realized, he had none. A huntsman of his caliber didn't just lose a child in the woods. It was impossible, and negligent. He just deserved what he got, so he stood quietly and waited for her approach.

"Qrow." She spoke, her voice dry and distinct. It was a bad sign to see her so cold and calculated.

"Winter." Qrow parroted back. It was a dumb move, he knew, but there were just some things that were unavoidable.

Winter looked the man up and down. She could tell that he was drunk, which only fouled her temper more than before. With a calm indifference drilled into her by her training, she blinked, schooling her hot tempered retorts. "You are drunk."

"Astute observation." Qrow muttered.

"I ordered you to maintain sobriety on this mission." She told him for what seemed the umpteenth time.

"So ya did… I didn't feel like listening." He might have been three sheets to the wind, but he wasn't completely stupid. He knew a beautiful woman when he saw one, and Winter was stunning. Alabaster skin, pure and without a blemish. Long limbs, powerful and defined, without being overbearing. A mask of neutrality that rarely wavered. Smiling only in the presence of her siblings. Frowning only when in the deepest rage. She was a mystery to most, refusing to allow most people in her life to know the depths of her mind…and most certainly not her heart.

"I noticed." She replied, with the same forced calmness instilled into her by her upbringing. She was the first born daughter of the Schnee family, the highest of Atlas aristocracy. Her long flowing tresses of white hair were kept prim and proper, tightly wound in a bun, a single delicate tendril framing one side of her face. She carried herself with decorum, even while in the messy forest. No one would think she had been camping out here for days.

No one, but Qrow. "Good, you can keep noticing. Meanwhile, I'll keep drinking." He said, wiggling his flask. "This baby isn't going anywhere."

"Unless you want me to slice out that tongue of yours, I'd suggest you start talking." She intoned with that same frozen disposition. She didn't tolerate failure from anyone, not even him. Their friendship was not enough to keep her from swift retribution, if she deemed him deserving of such a thing. "Where is Whitley?"

There were times he would playfully provoke her, but this would not be it. Winter Schnee, to those who knew her, understood her to be cold, distant, and unusually cruel…but Qrow was different. He knew the truth. He knew as a fact, Winter was fiercely loyal to those she cared for…and she loved her siblings deeply, both of them. That she was even in Mistral at all proved she would go to the ends of Remnant just to keep them safe. "I don't know. The damn kid wandered off."

"I see." Winter closed her eyes, reminding herself that now was not the time to fight with a man who struggled to keep himself upright. There would be time for that later. For now she summoned a great white beast from her glyph. "My brother is missing." She told the towering wolf Grimm. "Find him at once so that we may retrieve him." She ordered, the creature easily picking up the boy's scent to do his master's bidding. "Come along, Qrow." She ordered, already keeping in step with her monstrous creature.

"Right." Qrow said, rolling his eyes. "Completely forgot you had a pack of those demon puppies."

At this, Winter raised her hand, smacking Qrow on the back of the head. "Contemptable bastard."

"Haven't killed me yet." He grunted, though he felt, this time, he had truly dodged a bullet.