Blake did not like how full her brain was, and how little sawing at vines took away from that. She needed something else to draw her attention. Unfortunately, Qrow was the only option.

"So… what's your story?" Blake asked over her shoulder.

Qrow laughed. "You're that bored?"

No, she wasn't bored at all. She was just going crazy trying to remember Ruby's last name. "You could say that."

"Oh, I see," he said with another chuckle. "What, wracking your brain over my niece?"

"As if, we have the princess for that."

A clump of dirt struck the back of Blake's head, but she didn't pay it any mind. Perfectly expected, honestly. Deserved, even. "Don't talk about them like that," he grumbled.

Blake stopped sawing and turned. "Oh, you don't approve?"

"Get back to work," Qrow commanded, pointing at the vines. "And don't make assumptions."

"So you're actually glad your niece is with that Schnee tyrant?"

Another clump of dirt smack Blake, surprising her this time. "Don't speak so ill of those you don't know."

Blake scoffed. "I know enough about her family."

"And yet that girl still risked her life to save you," Qrow gave a scoff of his own. "Honestly, I can't say I'd do the same. You seem like an ass."

She shot him a glare. "Oh yeah? And what if you knew I was shagging your other niece?"

Qrow barked a harsh laugh, unmoved. "Doesn't change a thing. Yang could find someone better in a heartbeat."

Blake turned her glare to the vines and chopped at them roughly. She didn't like how much that stung. "Shut up, old man."

"And with just one mention of Yang Xiao Long, I've silenced all your wit. What an interesting trick."

"Get off your high horse."

"No thanks, this saddle's quite comfortable."

"You're not funny."

"You are. I'm having a fit just listening to your insecurity."

Blake grunted, turned on a heel, and chucked her dagger at the man. He caught it in a bone-sheathed hand.

"Tired already?" he teased.

"Of your presence," Blake hissed through her teeth.

"That's a shame," he mocked. "I suppose I could leave you to do all this hard work alone— I know how much you fay love your hard labor."

"Says the race who enslaves—"

"It's a shame, too, I was just starting to feel a particular name coming on."

Blake shut her trap, giving the man an expectant glare.

Qrow tossed her knife back and nodded to the obstructions ahead. "I'm sure it'll come to me when we're out of this place."

"I despise you, Huntsman," she seethed, her dagger returning to the myriad vines.

Qrow gave her another one of his grating laughs. "I don't."

Blake glared at Huntsman. "You should, you're a pathetic drunk and I saw how you crumbled before Pyrrha."

Qrow's reaction was surprisingly mild: a brief sigh, barely even audible. "I mean I don't hate you, kid. Calm down."

"Kid?" Blake repeated, whirling on him. The split vines behind her started to slowly inch back towards each other. "I am not a kid! I'm older than you!"

Qrow scoffed. "You sure sound like a kid, petulant and stubborn. Your days don't matter as much as your actions."

Blake rolled her eyes. "Save the poetry."

"Nah, I've got use for it," he countered, pointing back to the vines that'd started growing together. Blake grunted, but went back to sawing.

After a long stretch of just blade-on-plant, Blake spoke up again. "I'm… sorry, Huntsman. I don't hate you, I shouldn't. I've no reason to. I just… I've got a bad history with humans."

Qrow hummed— not judging, not agreeing, just a noncommittal hum. "Now you're starting to sound your age."

"Fuck off, human."

Qrow's smile was audible. "Such niceties as politeness," he reminiscently mumbled. "Shame the princess had to cut 'n run, you two were better than any theater."

Blake stopped sawing and turned again. There was something on her lips— an apology, on Weiss' behalf— that had to be put down like a lame horse, lest it come blurting out. Qrow gave her a look as she turned just to stay taciturn, and made a noise of confusion when Blake went back to cutting vines.

"Oh my fuck! Hallowed fucking stars! You're going to fucking kill me! I'm going to die!"

Those were the shriekings of Valerius once Weiss had encased him in a neck-down coffin of misting blue ice. His rich brown skin was already losing its flush in places, and he tore purple hair from his head as he thrashed what he could against the ice. He made no progress, and only succeeded in making his onlookers watch with an additional shred of concern.

"I can't feel my fucking fingers!" he screamed, making everyone wince. "Frostbite, frostbite! Get me out, I'll leave you alone, I swear! Oh my fucking stars, it hurts!"

The mother of the fay family, Myrta, turned to Weiss with concern. "You're gonna make my kids watch this torture?" she asked in dryadalis, making no effort to hide the disgust in her tone.

Weiss cringed, but bade Aulus to work her mouth, translating her thoughts into fay tongue. "You can chuck him in the barn, or some shit," she said— Aulus said. "Don't have to watch him at all. That's enough ice to last a few days at least, you'll be safe."

Myrta looked between Weiss and Valerius, then sighed. Aulus had an inkling that she was some kind of officer, just judging by her military mien, and Weiss was starting to see it. She was broad for a fay, and looked as if she'd fit more into a suit of armor than her humble smock.

"So what do we get out of this?" Myrta asked, adding, "As payment."

Weiss panicked internally. She didn't have any money, she couldn't give them her sword, Yang probably had about as much, and Ruby couldn't just smith up currency on demand.

'You've got more than money,' Aulus told her. 'Come on, use your head.'

Well she only had… oh!

'There ya go.'

"You've got crops, right?" Aulus asked through her mouth.

Myrta nodded suspiciously.

Weiss welled her Aura into her fingers and wiggled them, throwing off tiny motes of greenish magical energy that flitted through the air like insects. "How would you like an early harvest?"