Chapter 23

(Day ten of the cracked lunar year.
Location: The wilds of Mistral.)

The sun had yet to rise.

Nestled high among the cliffs, Raven watched the territory. Her deep crimson eyes coolly scanning over the land that her people had claimed as their own. Behind her one of her most loyal members stood behind her. Raven had been expecting her visit, complete with several vials of dust and a full report of what her tribe had been up to.

It was all standard information, but Raven wasn't happy with that. It seemed ill-fitting. Something still irked her, she couldn't quite place it, but there was something that still seemed out of place. She could feel it on the breeze, that unsettling malignancy.

"And there has been no other movement from my brother? Raven asked.

"No."

"What about the other bandit tribes?"

"Not recently." The sitting woman murmured as she too overlooked the land. "Qrow went into the city, but wandered back into the woods drunk. None from his group have strayed far from their camp since."

"There's only the two others, correct?"

"Yes. Winter Schnee, and a boy."

"Her little brother." Raven said in explanation.

"Neither of them have moved far from their campsite. We've been keeping an eye at a distance."

Raven hummed softly in acceptance. "Will our dust supply last in the event of a boarder argument?"

"It'll hold out. Did you really think it wouldn't be enough?"

Raven shrugged. "Torchwick isn't always so generous with the way he handles our allotments. I wanted to ascertain that our current situation remained satisfactory." She licked her lips then. "What of the White Fang, then?"

Her companion said nothing, frowning deeply in thought. A worrying sight to say the least. Bandits were never known for being careful, schooling their emotions happened to be a rather foreign concept among the tribes. There were several reasons for that, all of them perfunctory, and hardly worth Raven's notice. However, this woman particularly was unlike most of the tent dwelling people.

She had not been raised in the tribes, but rather absorbed into them. A woman with no place else to go, her loyalties resting entirely on Raven and her leadership. As a result, she still held the ghosting images of the village girl she used to be close at heart, her actions sometimes reflecting that.

"Vernal." Raven spoke pointedly. "You're report, please."

Scratching at the short hair atop her head, the woman sighed. "Honestly?" She murmured then. "I dunno. It's difficult to say, really. We can't get anything solid."

"I'm hardly surprised." Raven sighed at length. "Ever since Ghira allowed the White Fang's influence to spread beyond his borders, they've begun to splinter. You can say what you want about Mistral's branch of the White Fang, but they're no different from us. There's nothing noble in the way Sienna Khan uses her influence."

"Fewer Faunus are joining the tribes, so they must see something in her."

Raven let out a dark laugh at that. "What could they see in her, Vernal, really?"

"The same thing we see in you, maybe?"

"No, we're not the same. We might be equally ruthless in our mentality, but that's by societal design." She bit her lower lip, the heel of her boot digging into the dry soil. The gravel grinding as she turned and paced a little. "It's been peaceful lately." Raven said thoughtfully then. "Too peaceful among the tribes."

"Everyone's laying low."

"I can see that." Raven muttered. "I don't blame them."

Vernal was sure that all of the tribes in the area felt the creeping malignancy of peace. The organized state of the bandit tribes, the hushed stillness of the thieves and murders that lived among them. All of it was unsettling. When even the most sadistic bandits refused to let out even a peep, everyone took notice. "We've been staying away from the cities, like you ordered, but we're still getting messages from the inside. The academy headmasters don't see anything wrong with what's going on. They think the wilds are quiet, that the Grimm are thinning out."

"They are." Raven murmured. "But that's not a good thing."

"They believe it to be."

"The headmasters are short sighed." Raven spat. "It's just idiotic to think that way, plain and simple. The moment any headmaster believes that they can truly maintain this level of balance and harmony have another thing coming." She turned back to Vernal, her words deadly serious. "It's the calm before the storm."

During this beatific time of year, even in the shattered moonlight, everything was bathed in color. The flowers bloomed among the rich dark grasses. The crystal clear waters were perfect to drink. The flora and fauna alike were plentiful, food easy to come by. All of it, a usual boon to the bandits, resources vital to their survival as a tribe. Yet, Raven, like most of her tribe, was experienced as a huntress.

She knew that the lack of Grimm tracks, and the rare sightings she came across in recent days, meant that the Grimm were moving away from humanity. This spoke deadly volumes, because humanity, like it or not, were the primary prey of all Grimm.

Living or dead, the beasts didn't care.

"It's time like this that I curse this burden placed onto me." Raven muttered hotly.

"With all due respect, the burden shouldn't have been all on you. Qrow should have stepped up."

Raven scoffed at that as she closed her eyes, wondering what her parents would have done in this circumstance. Among the bandits there were only two people who had been unanimously feared. One was Raven's mother, a mercilessly cruel huntress with little to recommend of her. She was a black widow, killing her husband in cold blood after he'd forced himself on her one too many times.

His body was found in tattered pieces, his blood on her hands. The crime seemed clear to those who saw it, never understanding the deeper depths of the truth.

Raven never knew the details, either. Her mother refused to give them. As far as Raven and Qrow had ever been concerned, they were an unwanted reminder of a nightmare made real. Abortion avoided only at the behest of a fellow exile, and murderer, who had taken her mother in when no one else would.

The now deceased man was once the beloved leader of the bandit tribes. He, at one point, had been considered lord and master of all bandits in these very territories. A dog Faunus with military history, and an unquestionable chip on his shoulder. He had been greatly loved and respected by the wayward peoples, those who bathed in blood, and had no home to return to. His followers were trained like militant warriors, and under his command the tribes communed under his sole leadership.

During his reign, they needed no other.

As far as Raven was concerned, that great dog Faunus had been the one to raise her. He had certainly taken a particular interest in the Branwen twins, and she would never forget the long hours she spent at his side, learning the ways of bandit life, and skill with a sword. The time he took carefully molding them into skilled hunters wasn't an easy detail to bypass. That he sent them away to the cities for further education, that he shooed them away from the bandit life to learn about the larger world, it meant something.

What exactly, Raven had never quite been sure. In the grand scheme, the lesson didn't matter now.

Raven's burden happened after his passing, when the tribes began to fracture and the twins were away. They were delusional, living their own blissful lives away from the family that raised them. Raven was never quite sure what separated the bandits, forcing them to dispersed and fight amongst themselves. All she knew was that the few that followed her, were the last truly loyal kin that she'd ever have. Those still grieving their great lord's death, as if following Raven's command was the last honor they could do onto him.

Truth be told, there was no honor in any of it, and those distant reasons were only an excuse.

It was one that all of them shared, including Raven herself. It was cowardice, little more, but there was no changing it now. No going back. That was fine though, because she didn't want to go back. This life suited her just fine. Her eyes drifted open as she sighed. "Qrow and I have always maintained a somewhat acerbic relationship, up until my father's rather abrupt death. We were raised to be rivals in a way, taught to be as strong as we could be."

"That strength could have unified us all. It still could, if you could convince Qrow to come back for good." Vernal proposed softly. "Even if he doesn't agree with everything you've done, he can't deny that we needed you."

Raven shrugged then, pushing away the muddy logic. "In his opinion, I turned my back on my family. In my opinion, he turned his back on us. When it came to the topic of uniting the tribe, there was little to discuss."

"It must have been hard on you."

"It was." Raven murmured.

"If you ever want to talk about it…"

"There is nothing to say." Raven shot back. "Vernal, enough of this. Go back to the camp and see that everything continues to go as planned. I plan to also make a return soon, perhaps you should consider a feast for my arrival. Have the men slay a few wild hogs. I'm sure they would love the excitement, I'll even procure a keg of ale for the occasion."

It was enough for Vernal, but Raven could still feel the tension in the air as the woman began to leave. The edge of hesitancy, as though she were waiting for Raven to join her. Alas, such a deep desire wouldn't see fruition.

In the pre-dawn darkness, Raven crept back into the shadows of the forest, where she felt she belonged.