(Chapter 7)

While Jaune and Penny were enjoying their time together, making the best out of their current predicament, another pair of students were trying to make the best out of their own situation. Unfortunately, it wasn't going to well.

"I'm telling you; we need to find our squad." An exasperated voice spoke out towards his companion.

"And I'm telling you; we have to get to the edge of Mantle and wait for them!" A growingly irritated voice countered with.

The two teens were beyond exhausted, and today wasn't going anything like what either of them was expecting.

Flynt Coal was tired. He'd woken up to cold air buffeting him through his blanket. After a quick assessment of his situation, he found that he missed the first location ping of the day, was seperated from his team, a far trip on foot from his goal, and had fourteen days for his team to pass or fail. Despite being away from his team with almost no way to find them, Flynt was most concerned with one thing above all, and that was finding Neon.

Luckily, having been close friends for years, they'd prepared for a scenario in which if they needed to find each other without normal means. Flynt took out his bracelet and from memory, turned his tracker on and off several times with delays between.

[F-L-Y-N-T]

Flynt was using Morse code to spell his name on the tracker's display, for all other students to see. Unfortunately, this was a long shot and he knew it. Since Morse code was a system of 'di and dah,' he needed a way to recreate that. What he decided on what that every time he activated the bracelet would stand for a 'di' and every second it was left on could stand for a 'dah'.

It was crude and another problem was that Neon would have to have her map activated while he was doing this and understand that he was trying to signal for her in the only way, albeit incredibly flawed, he possibly could. After repeating the process two more times, he waited for any type of response from the other pips of light.

After keeping the display activated for a few minutes, he was about to give up until a pip of light disappeared, and upon reappearing began to mimic the process of spelling out their name in Morse.

[N-E-O-N]

Flynt was elated and he knew what direction he needed to travel in. He turned off his bracelet and began moving in her direction. A few hours later, he heard a growl that was well known to the citizens of Solitas. He freed his trumpet from his holster slowly and turned to meet his enemy.

To his right, a sabyr stalked out from behind the treeline, pools of blood red fixated on the suave trumpeter. He began to move to the right, and the sabyr creeped to the left, keeping pace. Flynt stopped, as did the bone-masked monster. Eyeing each other down, the sabyr was the first to charge. With a roar and a leap, it made its first swipe towards the dark-skinned boy, who responded by stepping to the side. He did so with such a narrow window, that the sabyr seemed confused as to whether its opening move had landed.

It put space between itself and the teen, preparing for its next attack, but Flynt simply brought his hands to the correct placements of his instrument weapon, and took a deep breath. The sabyr decided to charge again, a mistake it wouldn't have the opportunity to repeat.

As it was airborne, Flynt shifted his fingers to the desired note, and blew out his stored air into the trumpet. The sabyr was engulfed in a red-tinted sound wave and let out a cry of anguish as it was slowly incinerated. The teen continued his musical assault until he saw his enemy cease its struggle and emitting the black mist that accompanied an injured grimm.

As he held his trumpet in his right hand, he reached down to his leg where he'd strapped the survival knife that was in his bag, and in one fluid motion after its release, plunged the knife into the head of the beast, just to the side of its mask. As it fully evaporated into nothingness, Flynt put the knife back into its holster and checked his tracker to reorient himself as to where his destination now was.

A good half hour after he'd resumed trekking through the forest, a twig snapped to his right. The teen's eyes darted to where he knew the noise came from and spotted a sabyr making itself known from its previous hiding place behind an incredibly large snow-covered tree. He freed his trumpet once again but heard more growls, causing him to glance around his position full circle, revealing that he was surrounded.

Flynt sighed before taking a lower stance and surveyed his surroundings. He was in a heavily wooded area with snow and ice covering the ground, surrounded by grimm, and he didn't have his team. He pushed up his glasses with his left hand and opted to take the initiative against his new opponents.

He gathered his breath before he turned away from the solitary sabyr that was previously in front of him and charged towards one of the smaller saber-toothed grimm while pulling out his knife once again, before plunging the blade deep into the neck of his stunned enemy. Knowing he'd created a window of opportunity; he pulled his knife out from neck of his enemy and used it as a steppingstone to spring behind the entirety of the pack.

As he turned to face the sabyr pack, he noticed that he couldn't find the largest one among them. Reasoning that it was likely waiting to ambush him when he least expected it, he knew that the most important matter at hand was to thin the number of things trying to kill him.

He glanced around at his surroundings again, hoping he might find something he could use to ease his workload. As Flynt glanced over his left, his eyes widened and he peeked back to where he saw something he thought he could use, a small pond. There was a sheet of ice over the surface of the water, but it wouldn't throw a wrench into the plan the dark-skinned teen was scheming. He heard the various growls and could tell that the sabyrs were probably about to attack again. He looked up and saw a variety of thicker branches hanging above him, sitting below a thick canopy of snow-covered leaves.

For the first time today since he found the direction his partner was in, he smiled before adjusting his glasses and speaking to himself.

"Showtime." And with that, he activated his semblance, summoning forth one of the three clones he could manifest at a time with a specific directive in mind. The sabyrs all began their charge, but as they closed in on the trumpeter and his doppelganger, Flynt reached his arm out towards his lookalike, and let himself be swung around and thrown by the arm up towards the tree limbs above.

As he reached the apex of his ascent, he shifted his balance in the air causing him to flip upright in time to land on one of the thicker branches. The dark-skinned teen's clone dematerialized before it returned to him, and upon seeing the confusion of the sabyrs below, let out a loud whistle.

Once the pack of grimm looked around for the origin of the sound, one of them was particularly unfortunate as it was hit with a small bit of liquid. Looking up to the high tree branches, they saw their prey. Flynt having finished emptying the spit valve on his trumpet, began to move on the tree limbs above towards the pond, making sure to check behind him every few moments to gauge the distance between himself and the grimm following below.

As he entered a bushier thicket of tree limbs, obscuring his enemies more thoroughly below, he put the next phase of his plan into motion. The moment he touched down on the branch he was jumping to, the teen summoned forth two clones. One of them kept travelling towards the same location he had been; the iced over pond. The other, however appeared to his right, and pulled him back to assist in abruptly halting his momentum, as well as prevent him from falling off the tree in doing so.

He and his clone listened from above as the sabyrs chased after his lookalike, and after a few seconds of letting his prey move past, begin to quietly stalk behind the pack. As he arrived as the pond, he saw that the sabyrs had all taken up positions to surround what they thought was the real him.

Flynt's doppelganger looked abnormally calm, if not a tad smug, as it stood atop the ice. The copy of the dark-skinned teen started to tap the literal thin ice it was standing on, and after a particularly resolute stomp, caused the ice to begin to crack around him. The pack of grimm was in the same situation as their prey, and while their weight barely caused the ice to crack, it would crack in warning any time one of the sabyrs would tense their muscles to prepare an attack.

Meanwhile roughly twenty-five meters away from the edge of the pond, Flynt and a clone watched patiently before sharing a look. They both nodded and began to set the next part of their plan in motion. The copy began to carefully hop across the tree branches to make his way to another edge of the clearing, and the genuine Flynt remained in position.

'Any second now, the moment one of them makes a move, we'll take them all out at once.' The dark-skinned teen thought to himself assuredly. Another few moments passed, feeling like a minor eternity for the huntsman student. In an instant, one of the grimm had chosen to lunge from its position, but in its recklessness and spontaneous movement, forced the ice it stood on to launch itself, to shatter and sink into the frigid waters below.

As the sabyr impacted the frozen pond surface a few meters away from the trumpeter, a single large crack formed from its position, before splitting off at every conceivable point into many smaller, spreading cracks. The standoff now broken; Flynt's clone waited anxiously for its moment to escape its surrounded position. The other sabyrs all began to prepare their own assaults as well, not having learned from the events having just taken place. The ice around their paws began to crack, and then suddenly they all pounced towards the boy stuck on the ice.

Flynt's lookalike smiled before lifting a leg up and proceeded to bring it down causing the ice to completely crack. As the sabyrs were in the air, the dark-skinned teen's doppelganger fell towards the water below, and Flynt allowed its form to return to him.

As the pack of grimm fell into the now uncovered pond, Flynt and the clone that had creeped across the branches moved with purpose and conviction. They both leaped from their concealed positions to the edges of the pond, before taking deep breaths and shifting their hands to the correct key of their trumpets. When they pushed their gathered air through the instrument, a blue soundwave was emitted and aimed towards the surface of the water.

The dust being used caused a sheet of ice to begin creeping across the top of the water, almost as if returning the pond to its former state. The irate sabyr pack tried to resist, but even the agitated water began to freeze over, and soon enough, they had been too.

Flynt and his clone stopped playing their trumpets, before admiring the almost work of art they'd created. The frozen bunch of sabyrs looked to be trying to escape the pond at all costs, creating an ice sculpture like picture out of what previously had considered him prey. His clone having strode over to him, shared a similar smirk, and after they both adjusted their glasses, Flynt and his clone went to bump fists, the lookalike phasing back into the trumpeter as their fists collided.

The teen didn't have time to relish in his accomplishment as he heard an alarmed voice call out to him.

"Behind you!" Flynt's eyes widened and he turned around rapidly to see a sabyr a few meters away prepared to take a swipe at him, he went to raise his trumpet to engage his enemy, but the sound of a gun cracked through the clearing followed by the dissipating form of his assailant. He holstered his trumpet before looking to the edge of the clearing the voice called from, where a figure was slowly strolling towards him. As the clearing illuminated his formerly hidden company, Flynt's eyes narrowed before he let loose an uncharacteristic sigh.

It seems as if Flynt wouldn't have to survive and forge a path back to Mantle on his own. Unfortunately for him, he was alone with Whitley Schnee.

The next hours of the trek the two were making had been rather uneventful, in the course of their travels, they had minimal encounters with grimm, and any that crossed their path were swiftly disposed of. But where conflict with the grimm lacked, conflict between the two had made home.

As they traveled, Flynt was uncharacteristically quiet, not to say that he spoke much, but Whitley knew the teen to some degree, and while he was calm and collected, he wasn't soft spoken or an introvert. People gravitated towards Flynt, and he always knew how to brighten up a room. But one thing Whitley noticed, was that none of the courtesies that the trumpeter of his sister team extended so readily seemed to extend to himself.

Flynt was never openly rude towards him, but he seemed disinterested in anything involving the white-haired teen. At most, they would share thoughts on battles, and be involved in general conversation. Beyond that, the two could hardly classify as friends. Currently, Flynt was walking slightly ahead of his squad mate, the hard-light display of his tracker showing him the positions of the other students who also had activated their trackers. What was confusing to the leader of team WICK, was why the trumpeter kept turning the tracker on and off.

Suddenly, Flynt stopped walking, causing Whitley to quicken his pace to stand next to him.

"Is something the matter?" The youngest Schnee inquired. He looked at the tracker display that Flynt was studying to see one of the lights turning itself on and off, and that his squad mate was devoting all his attention to watching that one light. Once it stopped shifting between on and off, having settled on off, the shades wearing teen let his eyes point towards Whitley, before looking back ahead of himself as he kept walking whilst finally answering his company.

"Nah…I was looking for Neon, gotta know what way I'm goin." His tone of voice was one of concern. But more immediately interesting to the white-haired teen was what he just implied.

"You…know where your partner is?" The question was hesitant, probing, but it served its purpose as the teen in question smirked while pushing up his glasses and answering the Schnee.

"That's right, we came up with an idea for if we ever got nabbed when we were kids, so we learned morse code, never needed to use it when we were younger though. But lucky me, she was able to figure it out. I'm thinking I might just make her choice snack after the exam…" The older teen thought aloud, before he refocused on what he was doing currently.

"If I may be so bold Flynt, hold here for a moment." Whitley spoke out as he reached into the provided bag for his map of the area. Upon pulling it out, Flynt strode over lazily and watched quietly as the leader of his sister team seemed to do some planning and calculations. He even took out and activated his own tracking bracelet that had not seen use thus far. After a few minutes of silence, it was the trumpeter of team JCKP who broke the lack of conversation.

"Whatcha thinking there, Schnee." There it was again. The way Flynt said that just now. It seemed like his present company wanted an answer, yet…it didn't feel like the older teen was asking a question at all. It felt more like a statement, a jab at him for something beyond his knowledge. Whitley had been forced to sit quietly and observe through many of his father's meetings as he grew older, and as a result had picked up the ability to read a person well. He even considered himself a bit of a people person, though, in his context of the phrase.

So, two things were perplexing the Schnee; why did it seem as if Flynt resented him, and how had he never noticed it before? The second question was easy enough to answer, what with himself burning the midnight oil to improve, but more importantly, he knew it was because this was the first time it was exclusively the two of them alone. The 'why' though…that wasn't as easy a puzzle to solve. He realized he'd kept his squad mate waiting for an answer and replied swiftly.

"According to the map, we are approximately ten kilometers away from what seems to be the end of the forest, and another two kilometers from what I can only infer is an extensive slope." The white-haired teen accentuated his explanation by gesturing to certain spots of the map, the trumpeter giving a brief exhale of air or grunt as the only acknowledgement shown towards Whitley. After he was done showing Flynt what how he was thinking, he put forth what he had in mind.

"I'm thinking we should start setting up camp," As he said this, the white-haired teen redeposited the map back into his bag before facing Flynt and continuing, "we covered a significant distance from both of our respective starting points, and in addition, were fortunate enough to stumble into each other on the first day. However, sunlight is retreating fast over the horizon and if we don't make use of the time left, we'll be setting up camp in the dark with virtually no cover."

His dark-skinned companion put a hand to his chin in thought silently, mulling over the words of the youngest Schnee. A few minutes later, and Flynt put a hand to his neck as he strained it to the side gently, earning a satisfying crack. A groan of tension having been relieved, he just shrugged his shoulders before responding to Whitley.

"Aight, I hear you. So, where do you propose we shack up for the night; right here?" Whitley looked around, and as he was faced away from the trumpeter, let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding before beginning to think aloud.

"Well…No matter where we set up camp in the vicinity, it seems like we are going to have a copious number of blind spots surrounding us. Maybe…" Before Whitley could let himself mumble about possible courses of action, Flynt cleared his throat and caught the attention of Whitley before speaking.

"How about up there?" Whitley looked overhead to see the tall trees standing resolute all around with sturdy, wide limbs and thick bodies. Cover from above due to the canopy the treetops created and elevated from the bottom, the white-haired teen saw this as a perfect locale to stop and prepare for nightfall at. If they could keep their emotions in check, they might even be virtually invisible to any grimm that weren't already at their height.

"A sound idea indeed Flynt, let us proceed with your proposal then." Whitley focused his aura and used his semblance to make a few platforms for each of them to use to scale their trees quickly and efficiently. As he scaled his tree, he looked back down to see the darker skinned teen hesitant to use his glyphs but gave a sigh and proceeded to ascend the tree similarly to how Whitley had done a few seconds prior.

Both of them now safely above ground, they began to settle into their temporary abode. Whitley watched from the corner of his eye as Flynt activated his bracelet once more, and while he wanted to request that he refrain from potentially drawing the attention of grimm, the white-haired teen also understood that he was worried about his friend, and that he would check for her regardless of his personal feelings.

As Flynt began to communicate in code with his teammate, Whitley started to unpack his equipment to try and make his place of reprieve feel a tad more comfortable. The branch he sat on with his pack and gear was rather wide and accommodating for the lone Schnee, also pleasant, it dipped slightly down, creating a dip in its structure that was fitting to lay in.

He looked at the area around him but saw no suitable place to affix his lantern securely, so he rotated the chamber of his revolver the ice dust vial was staring down the barrel and activated his semblance. A glyph later and a shard of ice impaled the tree limb he was resting on, and after he removed the shard, placed the lantern into the appropriately fitted hole that was left behind. Lastly, Whitley unrolled his provided sleeping bag and let it rest perfectly in the tree's dip and nodded at his own resourcefulness.

A few minutes later, the white-haired teen was eating some of his rations with his legs hanging off the edge of the tree limb. Flynt let out a minor sound of relief and turned off his bracelet before turning to face towards Whitley with his own rations in hand. The two sat a few feet across from each other eating in silence from their respective trees, and once they each finished their meals, Whitley started to speak.

"Flynt…I was thinking that tomorrow we should adjust our course and head towards Mantle." The trumpeter tilted his head to face Whitley with a look that spoke volumes. He wasn't on board with the idea, at all. Quickly, the youngest of the Schnee family resumed speaking as he felt the quiet emotion behind the look Flynt was giving him.

"I'm not saying we can't meet up with her along the way, but we should realign ourselves more towards Mantle for now. It will save us a few extra days of travel time on our trip, and you can still rendezvous with your partner. It just will take a few extra days, but-"

"No." The stern voice of Flynt was something seldom heard, but when it was present, other voices quieted. The dark-skinned teen gave Whitley a look that said the matter wasn't up for debate, and after staring the teen down for a short time, looked off into the distance, trying to leave behind the presence of his current company.

And as the younger teen began to collect his thoughts to negotiate with Flynt, the following argument was something neither teen hoped for, but received nonetheless.

Two hours later and the two teens were still arguing in the trees above the ground. More than once, they had to put their squabble on hold and return to the ground to dispatch grimm that had been drawn to the area by the increasingly negative emotions being exuded by the two.

Frustration rolled off Whitley in waves now but was matched by the resentment Flynt held towards the Schnee family, as well as the desperation he held towards to finding his partner.

"I'm telling you; we need to find our squad." The exasperated voice of Flynt spoke out towards his companion.

"And I'm telling you; we have to get to the edge of Mantle and wait for them!" A growingly irritated Whitley countered with.

No progress towards a compromise had been made or thought about as both huntsmen-in-training were steadfast in their stances on the matter. A silence followed as both the teens refused to speak or look towards the other, a chance to catch their breath and pause from their heated debate.

Whitley was the first to continue their discussion. "Okay, I've tolerated this long enough," He earned the attention of the trumpeter as he spoke again. "Flynt, what is your problem," As the darker-skinned teen was about to respond, Whitley cut him off. "With me, Specifically?"

At this, Flynt recoiled slightly, not having expected a question so direct and away from what they were previously arguing over. He looked to Whitley and saw narrowed eyes and pursed lips. He was normally able to contain his feelings when around the younger teen, but without Neon around to take his mind away from the Schnee, the trumpeter could only try to contain his emotions.

Seeing as how Whitley figured out that he had something against him, something personal, Flynt decided to lay his cards out on the table to his squad mate.

"You really wanna know?" A nod of the head from the white-haired teen, and Flynt let out a sigh before looking to his company, his eyebrows came closer and his mouth shifted to something akin to a sneer. This was a face he'd never seen the trumpeter make before, one of true resentment.

"It's because you're a Schnee. Your family has ruined the lives of countless people across Remnant and benefitted from it in the process." The emotion present in the teen's voice shocked Whitley, it spoke of anger and sadness, and the young Schnee couldn't help but listen as Flynt continued to speak.

"My family was no exception either. We lost almost everything because of the S.D.C." Whitley was silent as he listened trying to figure out what his family's company could have done to cause his squad mate so much grief. As the darker teen was silent, Whitley thought about the trumpeter of team JCKP to try and understand what could make him feel this way.

Whitley thought about if he may have ever met the teen, but discarded the possibility swiftly, maybe something to do with Neon? Had she or her family worked in the primarily faunus manned dust mines owned by the S.D.C? But even so, why would he resent Whitley for something like that. Whitley continued to comb through his knowledge to solve the puzzle that lay in front of him.

'Let's see, my other theories don't add up to what I'm feeling…what else do I know…He uses dust as well, a type of dust we've never manufactured. If I recall correctly, sonic dust was made…" And suddenly it all clicked to the younger teen.

"Coal Dust Industries." It was whispered out by Whitley, but with the icy silence of forest not providing any ambient noises, it may as well have been said clearly at room volume. Flynt's eyes found their way to Whitley, who sat across him with something akin to uncertainty.

"Flynt…you have my apolo-"

"Don't." The even voice of the trumpeter sliced through Whitley's words with a heavy weight. As the white-haired teen sat in silence, he waited for Flynt to speak what was on his mind.

"I don't need your pity. I don't want your pity. You asked me why I resent the S.D.C. so much? Its because what your family did to mine, changed our lives. My parents went from thinking about buying or building a nicer house up in Atlas, to looking for a cheaper house than what we had in Mantle. But here's the thing,"

"I could forgive having to find a cheaper house in Mantle, if we didn't…I wouldn't have met Neon. I could forgive having to learn street smarts because they helped me to develop schemes. I could forgive that my mom had to go back to being a huntress who was always away from home on missions." He looked towards Whitley with a tired, forlorn look on his face before he spoke again.

"The one thing that I don't think I'll ever be able to forgive, was how your dad robbed my pops of his dream. My mom told me stories about how all he wanted to do when they were my age, was to own a little shop that could grow into a business that everyone knew the name of. She told me about how he took his ideas for artificial dust compounds, and how he became an upstart in the business world."

Flynt looked down to the trumpet that was a gift from his father for when he'd been accepted into a preparatory school for huntsmen and continued.

"My trumpet uses sonic dust to make those sound waves. It's perfect for my trumpet because I can amplify those waves with other types of dust. My pops had a ton of other ideas for artificial types of dust, even made other types. But then, the S.D.C. muscled him out of the dust business, and tried to buy the ideas for his dust so they could make it themselves."

Flynt looked up to the treetops above the branch he sat on and spoke finished saying what he had on his chest with a heavy heart.

"My old man was devastated. Mom was never home because she was on missions, and eventually dad sold most of his patents so that we could live semi comfortably. He was just…broken for a while. He worked day in and day out to build the beginning of his dream company, only for it to be taken from him."

Whitley could only let his head hang down in shame of what his family had done to his squad mate's. 'If this is what we did to one company, how many others did Father…" His thoughts were interrupted by Flynt who had leaned against his tree somewhat reserved and before beginning to play a sad tune softly on his trumpet looked to Whitley and spoke out.

"Imma take first watch."

As the white-haired teen listened to his companion play softly, he wormed his way into his sleeping bag and rolled over to face away from Flynt and thought to himself about what he learned from the teen.

'So much for trying to be friends.'

(A/N)

Hey guys, know this is a few days late, and for that I'm sorry. Took a bit longer to write because I've had a bunch of spring cleaning to do since we're all stuck at home.

Hopefully you are all staying safe and healthy.

Also, thank everyone for reading, reviewing, and voting in my poll! So far, we've had more than Fifty voters give me their input. Anyways, I'm keeping this note short so I can start writing the next chapter immediately.

One last thing, the new cover art is a picture I had drawn of Jaune and Penny by that artist friend of mine.

B.J.H.