A young man yawned, blinking bleary eyes in the rising sun. Sleeping in the woods isn't for everyone, even if all the leaves were a lovely shade of red. Most people would be rather put off by the whole experience. No indoor plumbing, no air conditioning, no electric light. There weren't even the barest hint of camping essentials! No freeze dried food, no tent, no bug repellent, not even a single marshmallow to toast over an evening fire. By any modern, sensible standard of living, the situation was quite intolerable even without considering the constant threat of Grimm. Fortunately, the young man lacked any such perspective about how dire his situation was. As far as he was concerned, he was in paradise.

Not that it had always been easy. When he first woke up in the woods, the youth didn't know what even he was. He'd woken up considerably taller than he could remember. When he stood up that first morning, he'd lost his balance at once and fallen flat on his face. By his best guess, he was three or four times as tall as he used to be. He certainly wasn't an imp anymore. At first he thought he'd warped, that he'd finally become a demon. But that didn't feel quite right. His magic was still there, flowing beneath his skin. Warping would have snuffed that out for good. And besides, warping tended to result in a lot of unpleasant slime that he'd just as soon avoid. If anything, he was curiously human! Almost at least. His skin had the same soft, squishy quality that humans had, but he hadn't lost the runes and symbols that decorated his skin. His horns had changed, growing long and textured. He would have to find a still pond to get a good look at his new face, but he imagined he cut a very strapping profile.

The not-quite imp, who went by the not-quite name of No1, was rather enjoying this new world he'd found himself in. As far as No1 knew, demons had never particularly cared for modern conveniences. A crossbow was about as far as they were willing to learn, and they certainly weren't going to bother hunting with them. So he had plenty of experience with foraging and hunting to feed himself. Thankfully, he hadn't even needed to hunt. He'd stumbled on a freshly dead bear, barely scavenged at all. Though he wondered why something had gone to the trouble of killing it without sticking around to eat it, he wasn't about to complain. So he'd set up camp nearby, knapped himself a stone knife, and got a cookfire going. He'd felt quite guilty about cutting up the beast, but at least he hadn't had to kill it.

No1's first few days in the woods would have impressed huntsmen and survivalists with sheer ingenuity... but for him, it was Tuesday. Or at least it would be, if demons ever bothered with calendars. Self sufficiency was expected in Hybras, even of the lowliest imp (which he was). Hybras had been an island, floating adrift outside of time. The home of the demons, a volcanic wilderness trapped in perpetual dusk. It had a thriving ecosystem, fresh water, rabbits and boars aplenty, and plenty of easily sharpened obsidian. It didn't even have nighttime. If you couldn't survive there with all that at your disposal, that was your problem.

He made good time hiking through the forest, clad in an ash-tanned fur and carrying his provisions over his shoulder in a still-green wicker basket. He was following an echoing horn that passed through the forest every day. Though the strange, red-leaved forest was paradise compared to his island home, he'd had a taste of modern life. Uncoupled from the magic that kept Hybras from falling back into the proper flow of time, he'd been treated to a very exciting jaunt through Earth. He'd gotten to see things like refrigerators, faucets, automobiles, and buildings that were simply too tall to be allowed. And he hadn't gotten the chance to learn about much of it at all. Whatever that loud thing was, it was consistent and it was moving. He reasoned he could follow it, find his way to a proper human city. He already spoke English, more or less. It probably wouldn't be that hard, assuming he didn't get thrown off any more buildings.

He heard the machine approaching from off in the distance, that strange, shrieking hoot punctuated by percussion.. It was much closer than it sounded yesterday. He smiled, picking up his pace as he cut through the morning fog. He was definitely close now, he could hear a steady mechanical sound between the horn's blasting call... and a lot of very different sounds. He heard a snapping retort of the type he'd only heard once before. Gunfire, thankfully very far away. He hoped it didn't have anything to do with the sound, but he'd be cautious.

It wasn't ten minutes more before he finally found the wood and metal road. He didn't quite know what it was called. The magic gift of tongues was gone, and there was certainly nothing like this in the old book from which demons learned English. Lady Heatherington Smythe's Hedgerow was not nearly so important as the leader of the demons had claimed it to be. Largely thanks to his own gift of magic, Leon Abbot had convinced the demons that it was a vital human text filled with their secrets. He would read aloud choice bits like sermons, both to educate the demons in the English language and to hide its true nature as a poorly written novel. He shook his head, trying to restore his train of thought... right! A train! That's what this was called! If he could jump onto it as it passed, it'd take him straight to the next city or town!

With some difficulty, as he wasn't used to being any kind of ape, No1 climbed one of the many red trees. He climbed the tallest one he could find close to the forest, doing his best to ignore the ominous sounds that punctuated the train's stead staccato. He didn't know what weapon sounded like that, but judging by the light show he probably didn't want to. He decided that it was worth climbing the tree at least. If he saw anything that looked dangerous, he simply wouldn't jump. Within a few minutes, the massive machine finally trundled into view. With the shrill squeak of grinding metal, more than half of the train simply separated away and began to slow. What luck! They're probably leaving anything dangerous behind.

~o~o~

A young woman took a deep breath, watching the train cars slow. For better or worse, it was over. She'd cut ties in a very literal sense, and she watched the rest of the train falling away with a sense of melancholy relief. She sat down on a crate, massaging her feline ears through the bow that hid them. She didn't dare take it off. She was on a cargo train, owned by the Schnee Dust Company and hauling another half dozen cars full of dust and machines. If she was careful, she could make her way to the passenger cars undetected, and just blend into the crowd when they disembarked. If she was caught, passing for human could be the difference between getting arrested and... Her ears twitched suddenly beneath the bow, craning to hear something through the fabric. She turned to look and her jaw dropped. A faunus had just jumped out of a tree, leaping toward the train. There was no hiding his heritage, a pair of prominent horns nearly half a foot long. Time seemed to slow as adrenaline surged through her veins. 'What!? It was just supposed to be Adam and I! Did they know I was leaving!? How!?'

Her desperate thoughts were cut off as the faunus hit the train, utterly failing to manage anything that could be called a landing. He bounced off the top of the next car, helpless against the oncoming wind. He bounced and tumbled across the floor of the flatbed car, skidding and sliding until he crashed into a pallet of crates bound down with netting.

"D'arvit!" the jumper hissed. A boy, worryingly young. "Twas less than graceful." He tried to stand, and stumbled. His horns were caught in the netting. "Unhand me! Oh where has my knife gone?" Her heart stilling, the young woman approached the other faunus with practiced stealth. He was a teenager, if only just. Wiry, but not weak... and wearing what amounted to a toga made of dark, matted fur. The crushed remains of a wicker basket clung to his back, dripping what she could only hope was water. He seemed to find what he was looking for, and began to reach for something gray and broken. A shattered stone? The boy was stuck fast in the netting, and was resorting to half kneeling and stretching out one bare foot toward the sharp rocks. "Only a smidgen further..." the boy grumbled.

"Do you need help?" She asked before she could stop herself.

"Ah!" He yelped, losing his balance. With some difficulty, he rolled to more or less face her. "My lady knight, be that a blade at your shoulder?"

She stared at him for ten silent seconds, utterly baffled. "Uh, yes? Here, hold still."

Drawing her weapon, a complex hybrid of katana and pistol, she collapsed it to a shorter form and hooked the blade carefully into the mesh. She cut carefully, untangling his horns without cutting enough of the webbing to send the packages off the train at the next bend. When he'd been freed, the young man stood up with a bright smile on his face. She was struck by his appearance. At first he looked eerily similar to the one she'd left behind, glaring at her from the rest of the train. He could be Adam's brother, or perhaps his son... but no not quite. His horns were long and ridged, almost serrated. His hair was a darker red, his eyes were a striking orange, and he had freckles that made him look somehow even younger. Strange tattoos snaked from his chest all the way across his face, coiling around his torso and neck like a spiraling serpent of dark runes.

"Many thanks, my lady knight!" The strange youth grinned. "Might I know the name of my savior?"

Ten more seconds of silence. "... Blake." She finally managed. She couldn't decide if he was concussed or trying to hit on her. "I'm sorry, I have to ask... why are you dressed like a caveman?"

"Ha! I am no neanderthal." He smiled as he spoke, bright and sunny. "I was bare when I found a bear. Already dispatched, thankfully, but freshly so. Its hide was mostly unmarred, so I fashioned a crude garment. Hardly a gentleman's frock, but a man must have his dignity."

"So you were naked in the woods until you found a dead bear?" Blake asked, increasingly incredulous. "How long have you been out there?"

"I'm not quite certain. Less than a fortnight, but I don't think by much." He shrugged his basket off his shoulder and started rummaging around in what was left of it. He sighs, pulling out a shard of crude, grey ceramic. "Dash it all... most of my water jugs are broken. The smoked bear ought to be fine... plenty of nuts and dried berries... I could take it easy for a few more days. I'll have to fashion a new knife though."

Her befuddlement only grew with every word the boy spoke. "Did you have anything when you went into the forest?"

"Not so much as a stitch." He shrugged. "Demons don't wear clothes after all."

Blake's breath hitched. "Demon?"

"Well how many humans do you see with horns like these?" He chuckled.

Blake's heart grew heavy at the implications. "What's your name?"

"Oh I haven't got one of those I'm afraid." He shrugged. "I haven't grown up yet. My betters called me Imp Number One."

"Your betters- what- how?" Blake sputtered, horrified. He didn't even have a name? Had this poor child escaped some kind of twisted cult? "Where are you from?"

"I hail from a distant island called Hybras," he said, finally noticing Blake's growing distress. "If you know of it, I would be most dumbfounded. Are you quite well Lady Blake?" Blake shook her head, knowing how far landlocked the forest was. The poor child had to have been living like this for months. Months trudging through the wilderness, living off the land, fighting off grimm with nothing but a sharpened rock. And yet, he didn't seem bothered.

How bad was Hybras that he doesn't even mind living like this? Blake shook her head, trying to dislodge the thought. "I'm fine... are you going to be alright when we get to Vale?"

"Oh is that where this train is going?" He smiled brightly. "Is it a city or a town?"

She had been determined to lie low until she got to Beacon, but she couldn't make herself leave this child alone. It was amazing how cheerful he was with what he'd been through. But he couldn't pass for human the way she could, not with his impressive heritage. She had to help him as much as she could.

"Alright... One," It felt so wrong just calling him by a number. "It looks like you're a little uninformed. Did you have other faunus with you at Hybras?"

"Other what?" he asked, as if he'd never heard the word. Blake's eye began to twitch.

~o~o~

Thankfully, No1 was able to convince Blake that Hybras had been destroyed. He had tried to be honest at first, but found he didn't have the words. Quite literally. He made a valiant effort to describe the island being lost in Limbo, and that it had disintegrated as it was finally dragged back into the normal flow of time in the midst of a paradox. But, sadly, Lady Heatherington Smythe's Hedgerow just didn't have the words for it. In fact he had a strong suspicion that the author would lack a sufficient vocabulary. He'd been in school longer than most imps, and even when it was read in brief sermons, the plot holes became rather glaring after a while. As far as Blake was concerned, Hybras had been sundered by some kind of geological disaster, which would have to be close enough for the time being.

Blake taught him patiently, informing him that he was something this world called a 'faunus' and that his horns were his 'heritage' and a great number of people would hate him for it. Though he thought this was a marked improvement from 'everyone,' he bit his tongue. Hybras had upset her enough.

"Your story is difficult to believe," she advised. "You should avoid telling it. Being a faunus is hard enough without people thinking you're crazy, or a liar. Just saying you're from a village outside the cities will be enough. They can be pretty out of date, so it'll explain a lot."

"Lady knight, are you suggesting I become a liar so people don't think I'm a liar?" he asked.

"Not necessarily," Blake hesitated. "Just tell the right parts of the truth. Let people fill in the blanks themselves."

"And if I were to refuse?" He asked. "What misfortune could the truth possibly bring"

Blake shook her head, "People will already try to make your life harder just for what you are. The truth would only make it easier for them."

No1 shook his head. "Not a novel experience, I assure you."

"And that makes it okay?" Blake rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Just being a faunus is going to be hard enough. If you make them think even less of you it could get you killed!" The boy looked taken aback. It looked like she'd finally gotten through to him.

"Oh very well," he sighed. "I suppose I can accept the practical necessity of deception. But wouldn't that necessitate proper attire?" Blake winced. He wasn't wrong... a bear skin toga was less than subtle. Everyone would be asking for his story.

"You have a point," Blake conceded. "Start checking crates. These aren't as secure as the dust cars. We might get lucky."

"For what conceivable purpose would dust cars be more secure?" No1 was perplexed. "Do hearth ashes and dust bunnies somehow pass for gold and silver?"

"Not that kind of dust," Blake clarified. "Maybe you called it something else? Come on, we don't have a lot of time"

An hour or so passed as they gradually worked their way through the car. While there were still plenty of SDC crates, there wasn't any dust to be found. It was mostly things like industrial parts or empty dust storage. Other packages looked like standard mail, which they left alone. They found crates bound for clothing stores, but most of them only had socks or underwear. Ironically, it was an SDC crate that let them strike gold.

"Aha! I believe I've located some attire!" No1 pointed out a stenciled label. 'SDC UNIFORM, 100 CT. ASTD SIZES' They pried it open and started sorting through nearly identical sets of denim overalls and pale blue T-shirts. Soon enough, No1 had ducked behind a crate and put on a fresh set of clothing, complete with steel toed work boots. He had put the shirt on over the overalls, but it actually made them less conspicuous. He just looked like he was wearing a boring t-shirt and jeans.

"Well, you're not a caveman anymore," Blake nodded in approval as No1 shoved his supplies into a backpack she'd found in a crate of school supplies. "We should be arriving soon. Have you thought about a name?"

"I haven't," No1 said. "If I'm honest, I've always thought most of the names I know are horrid, present company excluded. Epithets like 'Sumner Conray,' 'Tobias Habborlain,' and 'Eoin Colfer.' A wasteland of utter tosh."

"Well they certainly don't sound very colorful," Blake frowned. This 'Hybras' must have been incredibly isolated if it never picked up that particular tradition. "If you're going to fit in, color's important. Weren't you taught about The Great War?"

"I think we both know that I have not, Lady Blake." No1 chuckled.

"Right... well the short version is that there was a war over creativity and artistic expression. When it was over, it became traditional to give names that invoke color." Blake said, somewhat hurriedly. They had to be approaching Vale. He'd have to open a history book on his own later. "With your hair, you'd probably pick something red." Her ears twitched beneath her bow as the train's horn blared.

"D'arvit! What is that?" The imp asked, thoroughly startled.

"It's the train. We're coming up on Vale," Blake replied. "Follow my lead, don't talk to anyone. We don't want to be caught when they try to figure out what happened to the rest of the train."

"Why not?" He was confused. "It's not as if we've done anything wrong."

"Just... just trust me." Blake sighed.

As the train began to slow, Blake leapt up onto the next car. Reaching down, she helped No1 up. Surprisingly she didn't need to steady him. He seemed to have decent balance on his own. She guided him over the cars, their footsteps drowned by the shrieking brakes. Blake dropped them down between two passenger cars, where they waited until they pulled into the station. As the crowd disembarked and began milling around, they simply climbed down to the tracks and back onto the platform, vanishing into the crowd.

To his credit, he did his best to keep his head down. He tried not to gawk at the holographic lamp posts and the tall buildings, or the shop windows full of merchandise of all kinds. He failed miserably, but he clearly tried.

Blake pulled a device out of her pocket, unfolding a white plate into a blue window of light. "I say, what manner of contraption is that?" No1 asked. "Is it magic?"

Blake shook her head, almost amused at what little it took to dazzle the boy. "It's just a scroll. They give out the basic ones for free. I'm going to try to find a youth center for you."

He smiled at the thought of having his own magic window. "And what is a youth center?"

"It's a place that helps kids when they don't have anyone else to turn to. They can get you into school, get you a place to sleep... They'll look after you." She wasn't sending this query directly of course... she was looking up an address that was already there. "I know someone who'll be able to help us find one safe for faunus. Come on, I think I know the way from here."

They wound up hailing a cab, since Blake's friend was too far away to walk. They'd tried to catch a bus, but they had been curtly refused. Blake had been ignored, but No1 was rudely informed that the bus had a 'no animals allowed' policy.

Tukson's Book Trade was a very well stocked, if poorly lit place. Like any good bookshop, its wall to wall shelves were laden with all manner of books, both reference and fiction in various conditions.

"Welcome to Tukson's Book Trade!" A man exclaimed as he came in from the back of the shop. "Home to every book under the sun. How can I help you?" He was much broader than one would expect of someone in his trade. He was built like a fighter, which seemed wholly unnecessary for shelving books.

"We need to see your rare books," Blake looked him in the eye as she spoke. Her expression didn't quite match her question.

"What are you looking for?" He replied, his gaze searching.

"Call of the Wild, first edition." Her tone was final.

"I might have that in the back. Follow me," He turned and waved for them to join him in the back room. He locked them behind them, but he didn't stand between them and the door. This was security, not a trap. "What do you need, sister?" Blake shook her head.

"It's not me, it's him," Blake gestured to No1. "He's not a member, but he needs a safe youth shelter."

"I say, a member of what?" No1 spoke up, thoroughly confused. "Are we seeking help from some nefarious individual?"

"Nefarious?" Tukson chuckled. "That's a new one. Don't worry kid, I'm just an informant. What's your story?"

He mulled over his story for a moment. "Long," No1 shrugged. "First and foremost, the tropical locale where I was born and raised suffered critical damage to its very existence. I can't honestly call it a shame. To say the place was less than pleasant would be a dubious understatement of the facts."

"Why are you talking like that?" Tukson asked, his curiosity thoroughly piqued.

"There was but a single book on the island," No1 grimaced. "We made do."

"Riiiight," Tukson pulled a notebook from one of the shelves. "Probably want somewhere close to a school. No offense kid, but that book was probably a little... dated." He flips a few pages. "Alright, your best bet's going to be St. Vodello's Youth Refuge. It's close to a school called Four Colors High, and the whole neighborhood is pretty well integrated. The janitor's an asshole, but he hates everyone equally." He pens down the address, and tears out the page. "Here's the address. You need anything else?"

"If it wouldn't trouble you, do you have a book on names?" No1 asked hopefully. "My current moniker is less than traditional. Best to clean the slate, as it were."

"Yeah, I think I have a trade in... give me a second. I haven't processed everything yet. It's just me back here, after all." He starts rooting through a couple of boxes. "Could use a part-timer though, if you're interested."

"You would employ me, good sir?" No1 was a bit bewildered. "I was under the impression that sort of thing was more of a formal sort of process."

"Perks of owning a business," Tukson chuckled. "Besides, it's real simple work. Maybe ten or twenty hours a week. Gotta start somewhere, right?" He finds what he was looking for, a somewhat dog-eared paperback with a faded rainbow across the cover. "Here you go. Complete Chromatic Names by Roy G. Biv. On the house, I wouldn't get much for it anyway."

"Thank you kindly, Mister Tukson." No1 smiled. "I am most pleased to have made your acquaintance."

"Let me know when you come up with a name, kid," the elder faunus smiled. "I'll need it for the paperwork."

"Thanks for the help, brother." Blake almost muttered the last word. She wasn't quite comfortable calling the White Fang family anymore. "Is the cafe across the street any good?"

"Oh they're great! We've got a little cross promotion going right now. If you buy a book here, and show them the receipt, you get a free coffee." Tukson grinned, happy to be talking about normal business.

"In that case," Blake smiled. "Do you have a hardback of The Man with Two Souls?"

~o~o~

Blake had wound up purchasing a few books, though it had been very clear she wanted to purchase more. She was content, sharing a booth and while they both turned pages in silence. They were nibbling on sandwiches and sipping coffee as they read. Every once in a while he would suggest a name, trying them on like clothing one by one.

'Red' had been right out. 'Scarlet' hadn't sounded quite right. 'Sanguine' and 'Brick' sounded far too harsh for someone so innocent. So he'd started focusing more on the meanings of names. He'd been silent for a few minutes, sipping at his coffee as they both read in personable quiet until something made him smile.

"I think I might have it. 'Ifrit - Culture Unknown, refers to a type of djinn, demon, or spirit of flame. Often depicted with horns,'" He grinned wide. "Ifrit. Ifrit Monochrome."

"One color?" Blake asked. "Like 'number one?' Are you sure you want to hold onto that?"

To her surprise, he nodded with a smile. "Of course I do. I was content to keep my moniker, to define it rather than continue to allow it to define me. This is just a few steps further, and I wouldn't have it any other way."

Blake found herself smiling. It was surprising wisdom from someone so young and sheltered. She wished she could get to know him better. "Come on, finish your sandwich. We should get to the census office before it closes, so you can get registered." She managed to keep the sadness from her voice, if only just. Helping him had meant leaving a trail with Tukson, so she wouldn't be able to hide in this part of the city. She wasn't done running yet.

~o~o~

Author's Note
We've hit ten chapters! Thank you all for your support. We've decided to start a discord to interact with our readers, and we hope to see you there. Just put VXg2seC after the slash, or find this story on AO3 for direct link.
And don't worry, Holly and Artemis are going to be back in the spotlight next chapter.