Chapter 6 – Love and Let Die

In which Cardin Winchester gets the job of his dreams and woos the girl of his dreams.

"Don't go for the head if you're using a gun," explained Cardin, watching the young boys and girls open fire at the human and Grimm shaped dummies he'd spent all last night preparing. "It is a guaranteed kill, but you're far less likely to hit it. For novices like you, you wanna go for the center of mass. If it's a Grimm, it matters less where and more how many shots you get in. If it's a person, aim high to kill and low to incapacitate."

Unlike foraging, which required Cardin to have to step out of his comfort zone and actually learn something, combat instruction came to him easily. He'd spent the better part of his life learning to be a huntsman, so this was knowledge that he knew better than the back of his hand.

This felt right. Foraging had been a bit of a hiccup, but he was shining in this role. Raven had come by the other day and given Cardin a nod and an actual syllable of approval, meaning that he was on the right track. It wouldn't have done for him to fail here, not when combat was the whole reason he'd been accepted into the tribe.

Kite was aiming a bit low, so Cardin lifted the barrel of his gun using the instructor's stick he'd carved.

"Doesn't that feel better? Less recoil?"

The boy tested the position and adjusted his stance to resume shooting downrange. "Aye. It's better."

"It's better…?"

"It's better, sir."

It did feel good to be in charge of people once again, but Cardin wasn't just doing it to feed his ego. He was feeding his ego, but not just for that. No, the reason Cardin was forcing the kids to call him sir was because he'd started looking at the long game. Now that staying was a far more appealing option than leaving, he had to start making his mark. If a whole generation of warriors were used to deferring to him, maybe even loyal to him, he would be set.

They broke when everyone in the crowd had scored three consecutive bullseyes on the targets he'd painted over the heart. A lesser instructor might have settled for one or even two, but Cardin knew that the class would only be as strong as the weakest student. A single bullseye might have come from luck, but three could only come from skill.

"Right," Cardin announced when the class had gathered up in front of him and set down their firearms. "We're going to switch to one-on-one sparring. I'll be partnering you up."

His eyes roamed through the crowd and noticed Vernal standing some distance away, observing keenly. Guess she's come to watch the master at work.

"Jay, pick up a training sword and fight Marile. Rust, grab a sword and fight Whyre. Teresa and Finch, you two both arm yourselves and take on Owen."

The kids broke off, and Vernal approached Cardin.

"I'm glad I wasn't wrong to have brought you in," she said evenly. "You gave me quite the scare with the foraging party."

"Would you have been punished if I'd been given the boot from the tribe?"

"No, but I would've been expected to bring back whatever you took in terms of rations in addition to my own. That, or I would've had to go hungry for however long you'd rode with us. You were an investment – a gamble that I made. It doesn't matter, though. My gamble paid off. Since I convinced Raven to let you in, I get the reward."

Cardin was about to give her some more of the old Winchester charm, but he noticed his students had gone and failed to follow his orders.

"Marile, Whyre, Owen. I didn't tell you three to get training swords, did I?"

"No," the three said in unison.

"Er…no, sir," Whyre tacked on less than a second later.

"No, sir," added the other two, catching their mistake.

"Good. Spar until I call for us to break for lunch. After that, we'll work on our endurance by doing some jogging."

"Jogging?" asked Vernal.

"I have 'em jog around the forest and scout out areas that have the right plants and herbs to tell the foraging party where to go next. I toldja, I'm planning to stay, and I've no intention of half-assing this."

"Wow."

He could tell from the tone in her voice that she was genuinely impressed. It was an idea that had come to Cardin when he saw the foraging party go out the morning past next. Running laps around the camp's walls didn't accomplish anything, so Cardin figured that he could simultaneously give the kids their workout while also increasing the tribe's shared pile of supplies.

"One question."

"Shoot."

Vernal peered out and did a quick headcount of the trainees. "If you're doing the run immediately after the sparring, then when are the kids going to switch weapons?"

Cardin raised an eyebrow.

"Well, you're teaching some to fight at a disadvantage by only arming half," she explained. "A good idea – Branwens always have targets on their backs, so we need to be ready whether or not we brought our weapons. I respect that you aren't coddling those three. But according to what you said, four of them won't be getting that lesson in unarmed melee against an armed opponent. You'll end up with an unbalanced class if you don't. The four armed kids will be too used to relying on their weapons."

"The kids with the swords are all Faunus. I figure they're gonna be dropouts in the long run, so there's no need to work 'em extra. They make good training dummies against the humans, but I need to spend my time building up those with real potential, not some animals playing bandit. Only the strong survive."

"Ah." Vernal looked away. "I see. Only the strong survive."

"Do you disagree?"

Vernal didn't meet his eyes, but the back of her head nodded. "You're not wrong. There's no point investing any more time on someone that's clearly going to fail."

Noona, Hiide, and the others were unsure of what to make when Cardin told them the areas his class had scouted out, but the rapport he'd made with them by giving them his bags was enough for them to trust him at face value.

"I'm not trying to be generous or something – there's no place for that here," Cardin explained. "The more you bring in, the more everyone has. This isn't selflessness; this is smarts."

"Hmph." Hiide clearly wasn't impressed, but then nothing really impressed the grumpy old lemon. "Same thing. If you don't charge us for that info, then you're a fool."

He rose to leave, so Cardin decided to humor the coot. "Fine. In exchange for this info, how about you lot clue me in on what Vernal's interests are?"

That turned a few heads. "Interests?"

"He's trying to woo her," said Noona, slily smiling as she stirred her soup.

"Vernal? Her? You'd have better luck trying to get a tree stump to crawl to your bed."

"Hey, you're the one that wanted to pay me," said Cardin. "So? What does she like? If you don't know, you can always just give me your dinner inste–"

"No!" The old man pulled his bowl back. "Fine. Vernal, eh?"

There was a twinkle in his eye, and Cardin immediately knew that Hiide was about to try to feed him the largest pile of horse droppings there had ever been. The young huntsman had been in school and participated in clubs for a large portion of his life, and he was familiar enough with the concept of hazing to recognize that they were about to try it on him.

Except I know they're gonna try and pull the wool over my eyes, and I can play with them instead.

Oh, this is gonna be fun.

"Yep, Vernal." Cardin did a slightly exaggerated shrug. "She's such a mystery – I can't tell what she likes, so I thought I'd ask you folks. You've known her for longer, probably since she was a kid, so I imagine you have a better understanding of how I could go about pursuing her affections."

Noona watched as Hiide scratched at his beard and paced back and forth. "Vernal, eh? Well, I know for one thing that she has a soft spot for sensitive guys."

Yep, there we go. No way on the Brother Gods' green Remnant does Vernal want anyone to show her their vulnerable side. If they did, she'd probably take advantage, stab it, and steal their wallet.

"She also loves being music, especially by rarer instruments. Oboe, Vacuoan horn, tuba – the tuba is her favorite. If you can find a tuba, she'll be putty in your arms."

"Where can I find a tuba?" Cardin asked innocently.

"I do suppose they might be harder to come by in this neck of the woods. You'll just have to imitate one as best you can, son."

"Great. So, what else?"

"That girl absolutely loves to read classical works o' literature."

Noona audibly snorted in disbelief at that one.

"Literature?" drawled Cardin, shaking his head overdramatically. "You've gotta be pulling my leg."

"I'm serious. The ideal date for her would be the two o' ya, all calm-like, quietly immersed in a good book."

"All while I serenade her with my best impersonation of a tuba?" asked Cardin, nodding eagerly.

"Aye, that's what'll getcha yer girl, mate."

Raven must've been in the mood for some amusement at Cardin's expense, because she somehow furnished him with a tuba after Noona explained the situation to her. She could barely hold in her laughter back as the brass instrument was present to Cardin.

"I just…want the best for…a dedicated tribesman."

"Thank you, ma'am."

"Knock her dead, tiger."

She was smiling now, clearly presenting it as a smile of support for Cardin when it was obvious to everyone (even him) that in reality it was mocking.

"I'm gonna go store this somewhere she can't find it," said Cardin, accepting the instrument. "Wouldn't want the surprise to be ruined."

He turned his back and could only imagine their snickering smiles growing wider. When he turned back around, they were back to forced poker faces, though.

"Tomorrow afternoon, when the sun sets, Vernal can expect the finest tuba music she's ever heard."

A tribesman he didn't know gave him a thumbs up. "S-Some of us might watch from afar. You know, just to see…"

"…a beautiful budding romance of two youths," finished Raven.

"We're all romantics at heart," said Hiide.

Cardin nodded. "I'm sure."

Raven was dreaming of wonderful things – feasting on fine delicacies from across the four kingdoms, acquiring the strength of all four maidens, splitting open Ozpin's head and discovering that there were indeed no brains inside – when the world exploded.

It was a violent blaring noise, one so loud that she could hear it through the fabric of her tent. She jolted awake, lightning bursting from her fingertips and igniting the bedspread beneath her, but that didn't matter. If there were an attack on the tribe, it would all be ruined anyways. Her sword was in her hand in an instant, and she threw herself forward using a destructive gust of wind out the hanging ropes of beads that made up her tent's door. The sound of cracking wood from her primal use of the Spring maiden's powers probably damaging the wooden frame of her room filled her ears, but she had no time worry.

That was a roar. A Grimm roar…

She was easily the fastest and made it out before her comrades, who all exited their own tents moments later to peer out into the campgrounds in an attempt to locate the jarring blast of sound that had woken them all.

Raven felt the cool night air breeze past her skin as she stepped out onto the main pathway and slowly rotate around, sword drawn the whole time.

It sounded like it came from the gates. It didn't sound like any Grimm I've ever heard before. Was that some new monster? Has Salem finally come for me? I did only recently use my powers to frighten off the Citron Champion…

"Double shifts!" she barked. "No one sleeps tonight! I want every man, woman, and child out watching the walls until the morrow's dawn!"

There were some groans from the younger folk, but most of the elders knew the danger of a Grimm attack in the dead of night and didn't complain.

Raven held her sword at the ready, prepared to draw open a portal to one of her anchors at any moment. If the tribe fell, the tribe fell. This captain wasn't going to go down her with the ship.

Vernal nearly fell out of her tree laughing.

"How…hahaha…how did you make it sound like a Grimm?"

"Oh, that was easy," Cardin said, barely stifling his own laughter. "I just went out into the forest where no one could hear me play it. I experimented around, squeezing and twisting the metal until it sounded close enough to a Beowolf's snarl that no one would be able to tell the difference."

He dropped the modified tuba with both hands into the hole he'd dug in advance, then kicked in some of the piled-up dirt next to it. With that, all the evidence of his little Uno reverse card prank was buried away, never to be seen again by human eyes.

"HA! Look at them all run around like Nevermores with their heads cut off! What a bunch of dongs!"

Cardin's smile grew to match Vernal's. "I thought you might like it."

"Where'd you even get a tuba?" she asked.

"I have my ways."

"A man of mystery. Hmph." She wiped a tear off of her eye and flicked it into the shrubbery. "Well, it certainly was funny."

"Funny enough for a kiss?" Cardin tapped a finger to his cheek.

Vernal clammed up, and he immediately knew he'd gone too far.

Then, just as rapidly as she froze, the fierce girl turned around and waved for Cardin to follow.

"Wha–"

She held a finger up to her lips and repeated the motion.

"Follow me."

You weren't supposed to go with a kidnapper to their second location, but Cardin couldn't find it in himself to protest. Vernal's expression was playful, albeit slightly aggrieved. He could tell she was planning to somehow do him harm for being too forward with her, but he also really, really wanted to see what she had in store. Besides, if he came back to the tribe, they'd skin his butt for the tuba prank.

The two of them trekked in silence for what felt like an hour, until she eventually led him to patch of forest that was devoid of trees. Just beyond it was an enormous cliff that seemed to go up forever. Cardin looked to his left and right and saw that it always went forever in those directions. It had been unseen due to the dense tree cover, but not that he was looking at it, Cardin wondered how he hadn't noticed it a mile away.

"What is this, the edge of the world?"

"It's Horunburi, the lone mountain. Well, that's what it's called, but it's actually just a plateau that's about a kilometer wide in either direction. This is a holy site for a lot of Mistrilian religions. Unlike the mountain ranges around Mistral City that have fifty clustered peaks and twice as many slopes, this hunk of rock is the only thing around these parts. No one can tell what geological force made the ground shoot up in this spot in particular and nowhere else, so they all ascribe it as an act of the gods."

"Neat."

"Let's climb it."

"What?!" Cardin looked up the vertical rock wall and nearly hurt his neck. "There's no way we can get to the top of that thing!"

"If you get to the top, I'll give you that kiss. If you get there before me, it'll be on the lips."

She didn't have to tell Cardin twice. When the word kiss passed her lips, he was already doffing the heavier bits of his armor. LJ curled up into a ball on top of Cardin's breastplate, standing guard like a steadfast watchdog.

"You're on."

Vernal had the edge when it came to agility. That much was obvious.

The spry girl could hoist herself up using a single outcropping in the rock, then fall to the side and catch hold of another stone that stuck out without missing a beat. She moved like a spider in its web, hands and feet tactically seeking out every open space in the cliffside without any wasted motion. If Cardin hadn't been enamored with her before, this raw display of grace and strength would have had him sold on her now.

He, on the other hand, found that brute force was a strategy on its own. After wasting a few minutes trying to get off the ground and failing miserably, he'd realized that the rock itself wasn't as strong as it looked. Using his muscles and overwhelming strength, he could jab the flanges of The Executioner above him into the cliff, pull it out, and heft himself upwards using the holes he'd dug into the rock as footholds.

It was backbreaking, mainly because he was such a big man, meaning the load he was lifting was heavier, but it was working. He'd taken the lead. Vernal had to use the natural roughness of the rocks to climb up, meaning that she sometimes needed to move left or right just to find a path up. At one point, she even had to backtrack quite a ways when a rock that jutted out of the cliff snapped, and there were no other paths above her. He, on the other hand, was making his own path and could ascend upwards in a straight line.

"C'mon, Vernal. Pick up the pace – I'd hate for you to lose to the greenest recruit of the tribe."

"Oh, you're gonna be tasting my dust when I zoom past you, big boy."

"I'd rather taste your lips when we get to the tops."

Cardin jammed his mace into the vertical face of the plateau, and some of the shattered stone fell downwards, showering Vernal.

"Cheating oaf," she grumbled.

"Hey, you never said I couldn't use my weapons."

She clearly had been expecting him to be a pushover, and that overconfidence was no doubt burning her up to no end.

Vernal snarled furiously. "When I catch up to you, I'll–"

"If. If you catch me."

"This isn't…GRRRRRH!"

Cardin slowed down for a second. "Do my ears deceive me? Was Vernal about to admit that it wasn't fair?"

"I'll murder you! Your life is over when we get to the top!"

Jokes aside, Cardin actually was beginning to feel the burn. He didn't doubt that he would make it to the top, though first place could swing either way. His aura felt like it was about the low green, maybe 75% or so, drained from the exhausting use of it to carve a steel weapon into solid rock. That said, he was about a third of the way, which meant he'd have enough to hit the summit before even entering the red.

I'll have to take a nice, long lie down when I make it, though. It'll be worth it for a kiss.

He was hoping that, for all Vernal bantered, his impressive strength and stamina (in climbing) would gain him some points in her book, which was what this was all really for, in the end. She hailed from a tribe that valued strength above all else, so she wouldn't take losing personally…

"I'll cut you up into mincemeat! Then I'll feed your unrecognizable remains to the Grimm!"

…hopefully.

Cardin took another good look at the way forward and grinned. He was halfway up and had a huge lead on Vernal.

"Time to bring it home," he said to himself. "Just a little…bit…"

He trailed off.

Home.

Cardin stopped dead in his tracks…in his carved rock outcropping. What was his plan for getting down?

He'd nearly exhausted himself climbing this far up, and that was only a quarter of the round trip. When he got up there, was he going to spend his entire night on that plateau resting off the heavy workout? He'd have to catch a full night's rest, climb back down, and jog back to camp, all before dawn. There would be no way he could make it back to the tribe in time for his training sessions for the kids.

And my aura – I've been burning through it to make it up. If I run into any Grimm in the forest, I'd have to fight for my life if I start at red aura…

"What's the hold up, lard butt? You're stopping traffic!"

Vernal passed him while he was frozen in place, but Cardin didn't chase after her. Instead, he dropped The Executioner towards the tree line, careful not to let it land anywhere near his armor where LJ was resting. The footholds he'd dug into the cliff beneath him were already there, so it was just dead weight at this point.

Step by step, he carefully made his way down, poking his hands and feet into the same path of holes he made on the way up.

Vernal passed him again on the way down, crawling headfirst downwards like a monkey. "Still on your first lap, slowpoke? Pick up the pace!"

She was waiting for him at the bottom when he eventually found his way down, a victorious expression on her face.

"Awww, poor Cardy. Couldn't hack it and had to go back down."

Cardin nodded. "Yup."

Vernal's smirk morphed into a nasty sneer. "You lost."

"That I did." Cardin slid Long John off his armor and began to put it back over his shoulders.

"And?"

"And you won," Cardin admitted, moving over to pick up the mace he'd discarded. It had made a crater in the dirt from having been dropped at a height of hundreds of yards. "Congratulations."

Vernal studied his neutral expression. "I thought you would've been more beat up. You didn't get your kiss, and you didn't impress me."

"There'll be other chances to steal a kiss from you in the future," Cardin said. "And I think that killing myself to get to the summit wouldn't have impressed you as much as proving that my brain isn't made completely of pudding."

"I made it up," said Vernal. "And back down. That means I'm stronger than you."

Cardin smiled. "It does. Would you like me to give you a kiss as a reward?"

Surprisingly, Vernal nodded and held out a hand. Cardin kissed the back of it.

"You're a weird one, Cardin Winchester."

Cardin beamed.

"Thank you."

The next morning, the raiding party was far larger than usual, and all of them were armed to the teeth. Cardin didn't ask any questions – it was above his paygrade to worry about the why of it, and he wouldn't have gotten any answers either.

The only difference to his routine was for Raven to approach him and order him to not take his charges beyond the gate. Cardin nodded in obedience.

Other than that, training was the usual business. He had them disassemble, assemble, load, and practice on their rifles. Today was moving target day. He'd been planning to take them out to the rivers and not let them come home until each brought in a fish with a bullet hole in it, but Raven's specific orders took precedence, so he instead just had them fire at him instead. Again, the exercise only ended when every student had hit him three times, though he didn't insist upon hitting any particular body part this time.

Next came sparring. None of the kids had aura, and they weren't supposed to get it unlocked until they were adults in their own right, so Cardin just had them spar again. No one was denied a sword this time, human or Faunus. He took a page out of Goodwitch's book and had them fight one at a time, with every student being forced to offer their take on the fight – who was better, how the loser should have turned it around, how the winner could improve, that sort of jazz.

Only three kids were able to pick apart the fights from a tactical standpoint with the precision and intellect of pros: Whyre, Rust, and Finch. Cardin briefly considered shifting his focus to the three of them rather than investing his time and effort in the just humans like he'd planned to before. Rust and Finch had good heads on their shoulders; both would have been the leaders if teams were drawn up like back at Beacon. Whyre was a Faunus, but he was the only one who genuinely seemed to remember to watch an opponent's eyes, a critical point that Cardin couldn't drill into the rest of the class. In the end, Cardin decided to sleep on it and make the choice after tomorrow's lesson. It would be premature to change up which students got the special treatment based on a single day's performance.

Whyre was in the middle of whupping Owen when the gates opened, drawing the attention of Cardin and his students. The raiding party had returned, but their haul was much larger today, so much so that they needed to carry it in on carts. Strangely, Cardin couldn't remember them having wheeled the carts out with them that morning.

"Class dismissed. Scram, ya anklebiters."

The kids were all far too distracted to focus on the spar, so he dismissed them a bit early. Truth be told, he was just as interested in greeting the returning raiders, even if he hid it better.

There were three carts, all full to the brim. One was loaded with just Dust, but the other two had a mixture of goods. Some of the things inside them were food items – cans, packets, bottles, and other subsistence items you might find being imported to a rural village – but others were luxury goods. Cardin saw many articles of clothing, textiles, gold and silver trinkets, and a bunch of other stuff he had trouble making sense of in terms of value. Shattered shards of glass and broken pieces of scrap metal were all well and good, but he couldn't for the life of him figure out why they'd make the effort to drag useless junk like that back to base.

Maybe it's because they can't make it and need to have some spare. Yeah, I guess if the Branwens reject civilization, they also don't have access to the benefits of industrial enterprises. Wrought steel, alloys, refined materials – you need a factory to make these things, or else you'll need to take it. Dust, too. I doubt Raven has an exclusive contract with the SDC, but she probably still depends on it just as much as the kingdoms.

"No survivors."

Cardin and the other onlookers peered up to see Raven at the front of the trail of wagons.

"Damn," Cardin said.

To his surprise, others expressed equal and greater degrees of disappointment at this news. He hadn't expected a rowdy tribe of lawless jungle-dwellers to care so much about the deceased Grimm victims whose village they'd just looted, especially not when the respected him for killing their own, but perhaps some semblance of morality still persisted in all people.

"UHHHHFFFF! Back off!"

The voice was Vernal's, and she was in distress. Cardin swept past the crowd and raced over to where he'd heard her.

She was cut up. Her shoulder looked like it had been shredded to bits, and her arm had a nasty gash just above the elbow. Some people were trying to apply salves and bandages to the wounds, but she shooed them away with her good arm. The action of doing so seemed to take a lot out of her, not to mention cause her great pain.

"Oi, leave the lady alone," Cardin bellowed. He rested a hand against his mace, and the healers departed.

"My hero," she coughed sarcastically, now alone with him.

"You alright?" He looked at the wound and moved to poke it, but she pulled away. "Do you need medicine?"

"Aura…euuurrrrg…will clear it up. If I take any painkillers, I'll get that much less food tonight."

He understood what the problem was. Aura could heal, but it tended to be slow about that. Vernal wouldn't die from her injuries, but until her own accelerated healing sewed up the wound, she'd have to suffer through the agony of having her insides on the outside.

Cardin held up a finger. "I'll be right back."

He raced off to the spot he'd stowed the few supplies he'd managed to sneak out of the Grimm castle. The food had long since been eaten (mostly by LJ the night he turned sentient), but Cardin still had some materials that were his and his alone. Duct tape, Emerald's ID…there!

Sprinting back to Vernal as fast as he could, he stretched a hand out to her and bent over to catch his breath. When she didn't take it, he rattled the bottle.

"Go -pant- on. T-Take it."

She inspected the pain pills in his land like they were poisons. "There's no charity here. If you don't–"

"S'not charity. Now c'mon, take them."

He shook it once more, and she snatched it out of his grasp. Cardin realized he should have gotten her some water, but she downed the entire bottle (there were only three pills left) in a single go without any drink.

"Fool."

"Weird way to say thank you."

The bottle connected with his forehead, and Vernal grimaced in pain from having thrown it. "Don't you get it? There is no thank you. There is no power of friendship, no happy ending, no spirit of community. You're a fool for just giving away what's yours."

Cardin put his hands on his hips. "I didn't give them away. Call it…an investment. I think you're worth the cost of some medicine. Now, the prettiest girl in camp owes me one, which means that wasn't a waste."

Vernal's gaze narrowed. "If you expect me to–"

"Nothing naughty, dear tomboy of mine. Just…not having to see you in pain is something I want, which meant that it benefitted me."

Vernal rolled her eyes. "Fool. You're probably the worst recruit the tribe has ever inducted."

"Nah. I'm the best you've ever had, baby."

He winked. Vernal turned away, but Cardin was sure he caught sight of a rose-colored blush tinting her cheeks before she did.

Definitely worth it.

The raid had been one of the most successful they'd had in years, so a celebration was held in the form of a grand feast. Cardin ate like a king, as did all other members of the tribe. Everyone got to dine on meat, spices that he hadn't even been aware they had were broken out, and the best of the raided foods that wouldn't last long in the pantry tent were passed around. The grub that the Branwen tribe offered was ten times better than any of the slop back at Beacon.

Anyone was allowed to have anything they wanted. In theory, that kind of gluttony could ruin the camp's stores, but in practice, the human stomach could only take in so much food before filling. After a wild night of curry pork, roasted potatoes and parsnips, savory dried fruits, biscuits with the most buttery of gravies, and even a small scoop from a melted tub of ice cream that had been brought back, Cardin didn't have any room left in his stomach.

Then, the hard ciders were uncorked, and Cardin realized he had plenty of room left.

The next morning, Cardin woke up with the mother of all hangovers. Pressing both hands to his head, he sat up in utterly horrifying agony.

Yawning, he shook himself awake and opened his eyes.

He wasn't in the camp.

Cardin blinked and looked around. There were no tents, no wooden walls, no tribesmen, no nothing.

Did I drunkenly wander outside last night?

Standing up, he took stock of his surroundings. He was in a clearing roughly the size of the camp, but there was the small problem of the entire camp not being there. Cardin's eyes went downwards, and he inspected the grass, dirt, and dust on the ground.

There are definitely the impressions of the tents, and I recognize that length of dust as being the main road of the camp. That patch of open space is my training ground – I recognize the lines I carved into the ground to be our makeshift sparring ring. Where is everything?

As he turned around, still half drunk, the sun blinded him, and he raised a hand to block it out. It was just coming out from over the tree line, meaning that it was barely even dawn.

It was baffling. There was no way the camp could have broken down all their tents, packed all their things, and moved to an entirely different location in the time he'd been asleep. He could recall dancing with an equally drunken Vernal until the wee hours of the night, meaning that it should only have been a few hours.

"Awful hot for a morning. Also, awful fast for the hangover to kick in."

Cardin looked back up at the sun.

It was just partially covered by the trees. That meant that it was around sunup…

…or sunset.

Panic filled Cardin's chest. "Oh, crap. Did I oversleep and miss us breaking camp? Did they leave without me?!"

It wasn't too late. He could still catch up to them. That many people would obviously leave a large trail behind them. If Cardin packed up his things and tracked them down, he might still be able to…

Cardin's hand absentmindedly patted the empty space where his mace was supposed to be strapped to his waist.

He looked down when the familiar feel of its sharp flanges didn't press against his fingers.

The Executioner was gone.

His armor was gone.

His scroll was gone.

His backpack with all his supplies was gone.

Everything except Jaune Arc's sword, the shirt on his back, and the pants that his legs filled was gone.

It didn't take long for him to figure out the truth: he'd passed out, someone had robbed him blind, and the rest of the camp had abandoned him. A mixture of emotions filled his breast: regret at the loss of Vernal and the life he'd built in the tribe; fear at his prospect for survival in the jungles of Mistral without his weapon, any supplies, or the scroll that had a map to Argus; anger at the fact that he'd been so casually discarded by people he'd come to trust; and white-hot, burning murderous rage when he thought of everything he'd do to the people who'd thrown him out alongside last night's garbage.

"I'LL KILL THEM ALL! I'LL CUT THEIR EYES OUT AND EAT THEIR–"

"…dsss…dsss…"

The familiar sound of a clicking hiss filled Cardin's ears and dulled his rage. Eyeing the treeline, he raced in the direction of the noise, dashing through the foliage as the noise got louder.

"DSSSSSDSSSSDSSSSS!"

There he was. Just a few paces outside of where the camp had been was a small cage with one very agitated Centinel inside. Cardin tore the lock off with his bare hands and offered his hand to the Grimm, which it immediately crawled onto.

"Thank the Brothers. I thought I'd lost you too!"

"DSSSSDSSSSDSSSS!"

Cardin spared a quick glance at the undersized cage his little buddy had been crammed into. It was a simple thing, little more than two planks of wood with a strip of chicken wire fence used for bars. The letter V was carved into the top plank.

"She still loves me!"

tl;dr Cardin gets ghosted by his fit tomboy GF

Next Chapter: Outreach

In which Cardin Winchester sets out on his own and HOGWASH RETURNS!

Author's Notes

That seems like a good stopping point. Enjoy the two weeks break!

For those who are worried, this isn't the abrupt end of the Branwens from within this story, but it does mark the conclusion of their arc.

What's that I smell? Character development? I thought Cardin wasn't supposed to be a thinker! It's in the summary!

We're nearly halfway through, and this fic has almost zero interest by comments and views (comparatively - for reference, my single best posting day of LTD has more views than this fic has accumulated overall). I really thought it might've dragged over Living The Dream fans who want to hear 'the rest,' but I guess it's also pretty short in size, and without as beloved a fandom character for the protagonist. I still like it, though, even if it's not as popular as LTD or Origin Story. I'm just sad, because I like this fic as my favorites among my own works, and I hoped and continue to hope others may too.

It's also just personal preference. I like the idea of a grand journey story, especially across a vast continent.

Happy rats, and don't do crime!