Archive of Our Own

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Eight weeks ago, somewhere in the rainforests of Mistral….A soft wind sifted through the woods, its caress was like fingers grazing over the mountainside. Its secrets were scattered among the leaves as they fell slowly in that early autumn afternoon. Careful whispers echoed through the forests below, whispers of battle tactics and stratagems, talk of supply routes, patrols in the area, manpower. There was a small camp at the foot of the mountain with its two tents loaded with supplies and ammunition, and the fire burned bright near the cool shade of a large willow tree. And atop its sturdy branches sat Newt, a charming, delightful young woman with bright amber hair and dazzling emerald eyes.She had a pale complexion paired with smooth brown scales covering her face and arms which was probably why most humans detested her. It wasn't uncommon for people to shower her with rocks and stones whenever she finds herself wandering around human territories like they were trying to scare off a wild animal. When she was young, she tried covering it all up with a brown jacket and heavy make-up. It didn't do much but it never did bother her much anyway. Besides, all of those were but a distant memory to her.Her brother Tuko, a stern man with darker-brown hair and green eyes, took her under his wing. Since then, they have found refuge in the arms of the White Fang who have since protected them from vicious bigots and prejudices. Still, she found herself unhappy within the organization. As protected as they were, she never imagined the cost of her life would be countless others.Now, she just sits upon the embracing branches of the willow tree as she wanders the deepest, most brilliant corners of her mind and dreaming of the clear blue skies above the clearer and bluer beaches of Menagerie, with its crystal sands and tropical forests as green as Mistral's. She never did have a taste of the land her father and mother grew up on, Tuko and her were born in Windpath and were shunned ever since. So she loses herself again in thoughts and tales. Somewhere she can call home."Newt!" a voice calls from below and startles her awake for a moment. She looks below and sees her brother already wearing his mask and holding the high-powered Atlesian assault rifle close to his chest as if it was his hugging pillow. "We're heading out, I'm leaving you with Bruno and Aries," he says swiftly, nothing more than a heads-up.
"Okay," she agrees weakly, knowing full well what they're about to do but that's the last image she'll want to pester her mind with. "Just be back, okay?" she reminds him, too.
But he doesn't even glance , his eyes stay forward, "Move out!" he roars with such ferocity that the eight-man squadron behind him jumps up from their posts, arms themselves with heavy assault rifles, and marches deep into the forest. Then he turns around, "Aries, Bruno, get over here!" he shouts out into the sky like the second roaring trumpet and two guys sitting by the campfire hear his call.First stands a tall, grey-haired man with wide wolf ears peeking out of his head. He moves slow yet calm, he takes his rifle and steadily marches his way to Tuko's side. This was Aries, a large bulk of man and wolf, a hardened veteran of the White Fang that lived only to serve, never to be served. The other one gets up later than him and with a fresh cigarette butt still smoking between his lips. His name is Bruno, haggard looking man with coal black hair covering his eyes and makes him stumble over grassy ground, recovering only by breaking his fall with the butt of the assault rifle. He tries to rush in for duty and meet Tuko's heavy sigh but then he remembers the radio set by the campfire and again he fumbles around again to come back for it. Sadly, Tuko can only roll his eyes so far up his head before the nerves detach from his brain.As the two stand before him, Tuko eyes the shivering Bruno whose rifle is jammed down the ground on his right while the radio set is shaking restlessly on his left. "Aye, sir?" they offer themselves with a chant in unison to the whims of the Pack leader.
"Right," he eyes him some more, "Listen, a Schnee company caravan will be arriving shortly by the main road. Taking the men and we'll be relieving them of the cargo as per the order of Adam Taurus," he says that with a rare light smile on his face. "Hold onto that set like it was the girl you were gunning down the entire night ever since you stepped inside the dance club." He gives the radio set a sharp point but saves a stiff face just for the klutz who gulps down a tongue full of saliva, not knowing whether to answer back or listen still. "If anybody happens to walk down this area, I don't care who they are, you call me. If this location is in anyway compromised, you call me," he points back to his chest firmly. "And if any, and this is important," he says with both eyebrows raised and it widens Bruno's already anxious eyes. "If anyone makes contact, Adam, Sienna, or anyone from Clan Jackal," his command turns to a whisper in front of the soldier's shaking gaze, "You. Call. Me.""Aye sir," he replies softly, lost in translation. Tuko gives them a frowned nod and turns around once more, heading into the forest to catch up with his men."Bye, Tuko!" Newt waves giddily at him from her willow branch, bidding him another farewell. And again he shrugs it off his shoulders like dust blown off the mountainside. And she dives down a well of sorrow and dying memories. He's change, that brother of hers. He always was stern and headstrong when they were young but now he's grown distant and cold.She stares below once again into the endless green horizon, disheartened. There isn't much else she can do except stare. A gaping hole opens up on her chest where her brother was before. It was as if her older brother has passed away and was replaced by this mechanical, blank killing machine after he was made and marked by Clan Jackal, a haunting name in the cesspits of her memory. And just like the weeping willow she had chosen to perch on, a tear began to roll down her scaled cheek and her gaze started to blur. She was alone in this camp, no one understood her, no one dared understand her. "The Pack stays together, from the cub's first tooth to the wolf's last fang, the Pack stays together" the men feared those words. It was an old Jackal saying, an oath taken by those who were made. Even she has heard of that proverb but she never did know what it was about. But more importantly, she never knew why it made her feel so alone. No one by her side, no one to talk to, no one seeing the loud creeping silence.No one except the man hidden atop the mountain cliffs, observing them through the lenses of his binoculars and the scope of his rifle.It had been weeks since Devin Jackal begun tracking the outpost in the middle of the country's heavy forests. Countless hours spent wandering around the diseased, festering belly of Mistral's underworld, calling in favors, knocking out whoever's teeth needed knocking just to get here. And then came days of hovering around the area, mapping out patrol routes, guard patterns, knowing everything there is to know. Just how he likes it.His black long coat is starting to pick dust as the wind grows bolder, scattering leaves into the red autumn sky. His white shirt beneath is already blackened from the dirt. His black beanie cap sways loosely with the tempting air. He takes his eye off the scope for a moment and looks through the binoculars. His lips fiddling with the cigarette between them, switching it from one side to the other. Then he holds onto it as he inhales that long whiff of smoke, clarity in the nicotine. Two people stand beneath the willow tree, one towering over the other. They hold their rifles firm, below the chest and ready to aim and fire. Devin furls his brows, thinking, and then he looks back down the scope of his rifle to get a closer view. One, two, he mouths to himself before he exhales the grey cloud from his lungs.But with clarity comes doubt of the picture before him. He saw a party leave a few moments ago, trudging through the thicker part of the forest. It puts his mind to unrest, uncertain whether to pull the trigger or not. He takes his eyes off the lenses and gazes at the distance. He takes one last breath of his stick and then singes out its ember on the cold ground. The breath of fresh air was a change, savoring the cool taste of oxygen down his coal black throat. His eyes close, his mind calms, and he takes off his cap and lets his sharp jackal ears at play.He listens, a gentle breeze flows like a melody picking up the beat. Behind him, he hears the rustling of leaves. A lone squirrel pops out of the bushes with its paws full of fallen nuts, it sniffs the air for scents it doesn't know and scents it fears. Its tiny head twitches left and right, wary of the unforgiving land; and then it runs off into the trees. He hears its claws scratching off bark as it scurries to the safe branches above. In the farther distance, he hears the faint sound of footsteps. Heavy ones, armored feet carrying armored men marching into position. He tilts his head softly to the west, cautious and searching. A unit trekked on soil, like the critter, they tread carefully. But then the footsteps grow louder yet lighter. No longer upon untouched earth, now they have found unfinished asphalt and carved ground.He snaps back into his rifle, eyes down the scope and locked on the two guards. His finger slowly reaches for the trigger, the wind brushes by his ears and he feels it grow stronger. Back to the crosshairs, the towering man is still headstrong but his partner has grown careless, his rifle is resting on the side, the muzzle kissing the ground. He has found his target. He tilts the rifle slightly upwards, opens his other eye to see the horizon once again, his ears twitch once more to feel the strength of the wind's sway.Then he pulled the trigger, the blast echoed across the forest, and Aries' head snapped backwards for a moment before he fell dead by the willow tree."Oh my god, oh my god!" stutters Bruno, losing words by the minute. His hands slither to cover his mouth, his cheeks are drenched in brain matter. Bone fragments scatter below his shivering knees as he loses his grip on the rifle.Newt watches from the top, she too is trembling in fear. The shot is still resonating in her ears like wind chimes in a storm. Her hands grip hard on the sturdy bark, nails digging hard into the wood. Her pupils dilate rapidly as she stares at the dead man below her and at her shivering teammate fumbling around with the radio set, trying so desperately to put the phone on his ear and call for back up. The telephone felt like it was about to jump away from Bruno's hands as he struggled to put it close to his temple. The piece finally touching his ear and he looks at her for a moment. His finger taps his pursed lips and shushes her from below. She nods nervously and he begins to dial.But then another shot was fired from the distance and the caliber blew a hole through Bruno's head and the telephone burst to pieces.Newt whimpers in despair as Bruno staggers for a moment before falling to his knees and then lying lifeless on the cold ground. Her grasp on the branch tightens, fingers grip the willow tree stiff. She raises her perched legs up and holds them close to her chest, hoping that weeping leaves are enough to hide her from sight.At first it was silence. Dreadful, deafening silence encompassing the forest. The kind you hear before monsters come out of the shadows. Calm lingers before the storm. So she closes her eyes and covers her ears, wishing the nightmare away. Something rustles in the bushes, light footsteps yet running amok on the green grass. Twigs snapping and branches being shoved away, and out of it all comes Devin Jackal, rifle at the ready, and eyes down the scope.Devin scours the area, looking for more, expecting no less. He treads carefully towards the two bodies, two clean shots and two clean kills. It doesn't settle down the ever wary jackal, though. Acting against time is an exercise in futility and he can't act without certainty. He snaps his aim to the camp, light feet on hard ground. Closer to the willow tree he goes, listening to the deafening whispers of the wind. Trying to peek inside from afar, only empty tents and stacks of boxes reveal themselves. His grip tightens as a feeling of shooting someone begins gnawing at the back of his head. His finger slides to the trigger, the butt presses hard against his shoulder. He turns and she opens her eyes.And she found herself on the other end of his rifle."Ma'am, come down from there," forward in his thoughts, not a second to lose. But she remains frozen stiff in her branch, kissed by winter's dead lips. Her head shakes slowly, mustering whatever courage she has left to decline death in his black coat. But he notices her long brown jacket and her absent White Fang overalls, no mask, no shroud. And he tries again, calmer this time, "It's okay, you won't be hurt."
"How do I know that?" she suddenly snaps, a tick of adrenaline, long enough to bargain, "How do I know you won't kill me once I come down?"
"Ma'am, I'm a horrible fortune-teller but I'm a pretty good marksman and I think I can shoot you as easily from up there as I can down here," she flinches and he wins. He notices it in an instant, "Now, come down here."She wants to relent but there's nothing to fall back on. Legs and arms crawl on the sturdy wood, shivering from anxiety. Fingers dig deep on the bark, descending as slowly as she can. Making it last an eternity but when you already feel the bullet enter your jaw and pass through you head, eternity's but a moment. And before she knows it, her feet touch the ground and she faces the barrel."Lie down on your stomach and put your hands behind your back," he orders her like an officer would, pointing with the rifle. She complies and kneels down as calmly and quickly as she can. Her face slowly kisses the grass."Now," he begins strapping his rifle back, "I'm gonna level with you, once I'm done here, I'll take you to the next village and they'll turn you in for minor demeanor and civil disobedience." The idea sparks interest but sounds too good for her. "Should just get you a warning and be on your way, if not don't worry I'll stay long enough to make sure." She nods and turns her head only to see him moving into her side
"What are you doing?" she manages to utter in her situation.
"I just need to check if you're marked," he says as he opens his jacket and unclips the pistol strap.
"Wait, what was that?" she exclaims and starts to hyperventilate. But she starts to stand up in her panic but is immediately forced down by his hand on the back of her head. "Please don't," she worries already feeling the bullet at her the back of her head.
"I'm not, don't worry," his voice cool and certain, every word is meant and every action is intended.
She slows down her breathing, settling down her chaotic mind, cleaning it from thrashing thoughts. She closes her eyes, a faint whisper tells her to trust him and trust him she does as one hand pulls down the collar of her jacket and his other hand clicks a switch on his pistol and transforms it into a dagger. She hears the blade flip to a point and awaits the smooth steel. But there was none, nothing grazes her skin but she does hear flesh being cut as Devin slides the tip across his forearm, blood begins to seep from the wound and when there was enough, he drives the dagger on the ground and clasps his hand onto the bleeding wound. His fingers sift through her hair, a soft touch running across her scalp and into her neck, then soaking in the red like a sponge. And then his caress slides down the back of her head, nails dig lightly into her skin and wrap around her neck like moss creeping on the walls, and then he paints it a deep crimson."What the hell?" she squirms as her neck is now covered in blood.
"Hang on," he presses her back down, just looking at her neck.
"What do you think you're doing?"
"Checking if you're marked."
"I told you I'm not 'Marked'," she rebuts but stays still with great frustration.
"We'll see," he jeers as he gently pushes her down to the ground. She tries to relent even further, her patience is thrown out the window but he's still there, observing, waiting.And then backs up, he opens his coat and puts his pistol back into holster and straps it tight. She hears the snap of the clip and her storms calm down. Unknown on what is to come next but already feeling the gun at the back of her head, her neck smeared with gunpowder and drenched in blood. But Devin had a different idea. He pulls her back up from the collar and she is lifted suddenly in the air and stares up at his eyes.Because he found no mark, nothing familiar, just pale skin mixing with the thick crimson. "Welp, seems you're clear," he assures her in a flash and pulls her up by the collar. "Name's Devin by the way," a tired smile on his face.
"Newt," an uncertain one on hers as she stands up by his hand. The confusion could not be matched and she was left speechless by that. She could only gaze at him as she completed the puzzle. But raised eyebrows cannot give her an answer, and Devin just stands there glancing over the horizon, calm and unburdened. "What do you mean? What just happened" she breaks the ice.
"Means, I'm proceeding as planned, I'll take you to the next village after I get something from one of those tents right there," he points by the campfire, "a manifest containing patrol routes and supply run schedules."
But her brother crosses her mind and her eyes look away, "Can't you just let me stay here? I promise I won't tell."
He smiles at her sadly, unable to let her go, "I can't, the squadron comes and they find out you're the only one left alive? Those're gonna raise some questions."
"My brother will protect me," she says proudly.
"Doubt your brother can protect you from the higher ups," his sad smile, a waning crescent under the red sky.And she backs down, knowing who those are. Cruel people, bad people that impale heads on pikes and puts children to the axe. People her brother can't contest, "Taking you to the village, you have to distant yourself from these people," his hand rests on her shoulders, solemn and sympathizing.
She knows he's right but still she remains reluctant. Yet, his touch was warmer than her brother's and she looks him back in the eye and gives a hesitant nod. "Okay."
"I know some people there, I'll make sure you're taken care of," words as sweet as berries and she smiles at him again. Her hand find his and it feels warmer to know someone is trying to look out for you."Right," he starts, "Climb back up the tree, I won't take long then I'll come fetch you and we can reach the village by nightfall." She accepts and he gives her a boost, light as a feather.Once she was perched up again, she pondered and reflected. Though she had felt protected and secured, she never could stomach the cost of her safety. A life of her brother butchering and robbing innocents was a life she could not stand. Even the imagining her brother out there right now, ambushing that unsuspecting caravan was a strain on her soul. Perhaps, it was time to let go of him.Devin Jackal walks inside the tent, a cool breeze sneaks through the covers. Inside he finds a small desk with cardboard boxes full of paperwork below. Beside it is a worn out hammock with combat boots underneath. He rests his rifle by the desk then takes one box and throws it into the hammock, searching through the its folders, only vague names of low rank White Fang members are in it, too few and irrelevant to continue further.Discarded, he grabs another one and flings the lid off without a care, revealing the large stack of folders. They still had names but all of them were unfamiliar to him. None native to Menagerie, they were closer to those of Mistral. "Humans," he mutters under his breath as he sifts through each one as if convincing himself. Yet, the longer his fingers fiddled through the documents, the more he began to notice the attention to detail each file contained. Home addresses, spouses, children, siblings, academy graduated, semblance, rank, "Huntsmen Dossiers." His tiny epiphany is followed by a grim conclusion and he puts a couple dossiers to the side as he doesn't stop there.He digs through the next one and almost cries for joy. "Here we go," he exclaims as Faunus names are written before him in time tables. Letters detailing patrol routes, men counts, supply runs, all stacked in the same box. Puts a smile to his face, like reading a good book and he begins folding them and pocketing them inside his coat.Outside, Newt contemplates leaving. Her brother is her world but her world is turning to hell. The thought of parting with him is too heavy to bear yet the thought of turning into him is too repulsive to stomach. Up on the tree, she buries her face in her palms, hiding away the tears. But footsteps began approaching from afar and before she could turn and look, two men were already aiming their rifles at her.She stutters and backs up as they stand there menacingly. But Tuko and the rest of the squadron marches from behind, her brother presses a finger on his lips, "Stay here and wait," the order is given yet before it can be questioned, the men line up in position by the campfire. Guns aim down the tent, fingers reach for the triggers, Tuko walks to the end of the line. His mercy's gone with wind, he extends his hand and starts the count.One"Tuko, wait!" Newt jumps down from her branch and runs to her estranged brother.Two"Tuko!" her feet only gets her so far.ThreeA storm of bullets rain on the single tent, tearing through fabric and wood. Steel beams break as they're chipped off bit by bit every time the hammer on those rifles strike down. The ground behind erupt from stray lead, chairs fall down as the squadron goes wild. Laughing in the wind, making love with the trigger. And Newt crumbles down inside. Watching the brother she never wanted to see. Shattering behind him, knees weaken down.She hides in her arms, burying her ears to drown out the noise. She can almost hear flesh tearing with every caliber, Devin drowning in his own blood. If only her scream was louder than the gunfire. But in cowering, the shooting ends. The squadron is smiling, taking ease. The muzzles of their rifles smoking from the heat, fresh from the kill. The rush is starting to die down, they look at each other satisfied with their handiwork. Some feel dizzy, some want to laugh but Tuko just gives the hole-ridden tent his coldest glare.It doesn't feel right. "Too easy," he says under his breath. Green eyes narrow down on the gunned down tent. A fire started to spread, rations and supplies began to burn. But beneath the burning wood and singed fabric, he cannot find a body. And on their side, a cloth unfolded, a single step emerges onto the grassy ground. They all look to the left as Devin Jackal exits the other tent, biting the end of the pen as holds it in one hand and reads a clipboard manifest on the other, lowly humming to a pop country song stuck in his head. But he stops in his tracks and finds the squadron staring back at him, frozen in place.Heavy breathing, the wind grows, Devin bites down hard on the pen, wide eyes meeting wider ones armed with rifles. And then he strikes fast, throwing the pen like a dagger and claiming an eye from one soldier. They all turn at him fast but he was faster, a quick draw to his pistol on the side and he immediately fires two shots on men at the middle, both bullets find their heads and they fall down like flies.The next man finds him in his sights but the little jackal pushes his grip with his forearm and shoves the rifle away from his face. He drives his shoulder right into the man's solar plexus and pushes him backwards, into the squad. The others opened fire on him but he hid behind the faunus' staggering body and caliber after caliber plunged down bloody holes on him.Devin evades gunfire before he pushes the corpse onto the next soldier, pinning him down with its weight. The others hesitate, the light-footed jackal shifts his pistol into a dagger and jumps high as he drives it into another soldier's eye. He then grasps him by the shoulders and tumbles down and flips the dead man over, launching him to the rest of the squad. A moment to shield him from their sights, a second to shift his dagger again and fire two more shots on the frantic men. One bursts a skull like a balloon and another finds a lung but Devin gives them no time and fires a few more rounds at him, no inch to breathe, one instant double tap. Then he sits back up and executes the last one that was pinned down.He rolls to the side without another thought, keeping the blood flowing, adrenaline rushing as shots are fired in his direction. None finding their mark. Tuko misses and runs to hide behind a nearby tree, unrelenting but thinking. Devin finds only bushes and lies down as low as he can. He crawls through the prickly grass and settles behind a sturdy tree. His jackal ears free in the wind, listening, searching.Tuko reloads his rifle, he treads lightly, as quiet as possible. He saw Devin slip behind the tree on the other side earlier but hasn't seen him come out yet. Hearts begin to race, thumping like a beating drum in his chest. He keeps his hands steady, ready to pull the trigger.Devin holds his pistol close to his chest, he heard him sneak into the tree during the fray. Managing to slither out of the chaos. But he knows just as Tuko does that they're both just waiting and waiting. For someone to snap up and fire, to trip and fall, to throw away their shot. Waiting.Tuko breathes deeply, reminding himself This is why you were Made.Devin presses his forehead against the metal, its cold embrace he has felt many times before.Tuko cocks the rifle one last time.Devin pulls the hammer down.And then the wind carries the whispers in the forest, silent secrets.Tuko stands and keeps himself low, running to the campfire and aiming down the rifle. Devin holds his gun high above his chest, eyes locked on the fore sight, shoulders firm and ready for the recoil. Both men rush down the middle, both men had each other in his sights—Both men fired their shots and both men fell.Three clacks came out of Tuko's rifle, each bullet found their way to Devin's chest, taking him out. He staggered with each hit, each lead heavier than the last as he fell to the ground unconscious. Tuko took two in his abdomen, they ripped through light cloth and leather armor. Flesh bore holes and he felt the bullet ran amok inside him, probably tore through enough organs to keep him down.Gasping for air, he crawls backwards. Blood's gushing down the wound, he presses hard but doesn't have the energy to. From the distance, he sees Newt shaking as she shatters before him. "TUKO!" she screams before running towards her brother, concerned to the brim. Tiny steps clattering closer, she kneels down and holds him on her arms. The warmest embrace of his life.
"Newt?" he begins.
"I'm here, Tuko," she replies in tears, remembering what matters most.
"Newt," he repeats, the life beginning to fade.
"Don't talk too much, I'll get help. We're gonna get you fixed up and running and—""Newt," a deep call, "Is he dead?"Newt stutters, losing her train of thought. She looks at Devin and finds a lifeless body in the field. But she remembers her contemplating, her reflection, her chance to be free and the cost. And before she even tries to answer, a breath of life enters Devin and he takes one deep gasp of air before he snaps back up breathing heavily.He unbuttons his shirt and reveals a bullet-proof vest with three bullets lodged in the Kevlar. He gasps for more air, pulling out the armor and giving more space for his chest to expand as he breathes. He recognizes Newt and the man he exchanged gunshots with. "Frigg," he mutters breathlessly.He struggles to stand up, his chest bruised from the shots. Slowly loosening the vest before he takes it off completely and drag himself across the field. Newt stares at him, begging for help but Tuko keeps dead eyes locked onto his soul. "Devin, tell him," Newt pleads with tears in her eyes, "tell him we can still help him." Devin looks at her injured brother and he can already tell that Tuko made up his mind."Fuck you," Tuko grunts at him.
"Tuko, please control yourself," Newt begins shaking him desperately to his senses. Devin shies his face away, he picks up his pistol and hides it in his coat pocket.
"Fuck you," the words bear hate. Like daggers through the throat.
"Tuko, just please calm down. We can still help him, right? I-it's just a gutshot, that would take days before he dies, right? Right, Devin?" her eyes clawing for the jackal's. But he blankly walks to them, feet dragged through bodies and skull fragments.
Devin finds no joy in looking at her, "Yeah, he'll be begging for death first before it comes and gets him," he forces a smile to crack, small enough just to see her face glimmer with hope.
But Tuko suddenly grabbed her arm was like a hawk's talon that found prey, "Don't you know who he is?!" he questioned in anger, Newt tried to pull back from fear. "What he's trying to do? He's Devin Jackal, the traitor. The deserter, the jackal the other jackals drove off," his words were like fire and brimstone. His hand bruises her and yet she was frozen still. And Devin watches him burn ablaze in fury and rage. Blinded by blood lust and duty, kicking harder and screaming louder the closer the little jackal came. But he soon comes to realize that he can't fake the smile any longer."Bend him over," he tells Newt who holds her brother up in her arms.
"What?" her voice shaking and it quakes even harder as she sees Devin kneel down and drip his hand in a pool of blood.
"Bend him over and pull down the collar behind his neck," hand clenches into a fist, blood dries in his palms.
"No. No, he's not-!" her voices breaks, words elude her as she quickly realizes that she's wrong. "Wait, please!" she begs but no one is listening, not anymore.
Devin walks up undaunted. He lifts his hand to preserve the sanguine puddle on his palm. On the other, he opens his cloak to reach for the pistol. "I'm sorry," he begs, "I have to check," he repeats.I am a Jackal, Tuko begins to chant and it stirs up Devin and Newt's faces. and this is my pack
There are many like it but this one is mine.Newt despairs, Devin proceeds.The pack is my family, it is my life, Tuko continues, undaunted, ready for the next life and its greener meadows.
And I shall serve it as I serve my life
And I stand behind it in victory
And fall beside it in defeatTo serve the pack, I must live free
Never to be bound in chains
Never to be trapped in a cage
I live free or dieDevin's hand begins pull his collar down and graze on the hardened skin of the pack leader. His fingers wrap around the neck. Tuko catches his silhouette by the corner of his eye and instantly takes a deep breath, a cold grasp slithers on his back.
To serve my pack, the blood paints it red. My blade must be swifter
Than my enemies before me, dripping down to his chest.
My shield stronger than their blows
Heart be fierce and mind be sharpI shall hunt as a jackal
I shall fight as a jackal
I shall live as a jackal, bite mark shapes from the blood, two rows of teeth, six fangs each embedded on his neck.Newt breaks, Devin looks away from her, Tuko feels the hot barrel kissing his temple.Or I shall die as a jackal.Two rows of wolf fangs appear on the side of his neck. Devin recognizes them, the Mark is hard to forget. Tuko's finding it harder to breath with a shot out lung. The wind grows softer, the sky bleeds out a sunset into the fading autumn afternoon. Newt has no more words to plea, no more excuses to make, nothing to say, not even a whimper. Only her brother's name, "Tuko—"But then the shot resonates around the forests, scattering birds from nests and echoing throughout the mountains. The wind cannot match its howl, the bullet ricochets for a few moments on the ground before it embeds on the hard bosom of earth. Smoke comes out of Devin's pistol, the bullet went through in a flash. Tuko falls dead to the side, brain matter pour out his temple. And Newt finds herself gasping for breath. Disbelief sucking out the air from her lungs, no one had to die that day.Devin cracks out a sad smile as he straps back his pistol, "The Creed," he scoffs slyly, a distant memory peeks back at him. "I haven't heard the Creed in a long time," the last light of the sun glints on his eye. A red sky looms over the horizon as frigid winds pick up their pace, "A Jackal to the end, he was," he says softly. But as he laments the fallen Jackal, Newt find no rest in her cries.It was hard to face her, much less talk to her but he had to try, "I'm sorry, it had to be done," she heard him, or at least he thought she did. Empty eyes stare at emptier hands, the touch of her brother slipping away from her fingers."He was marked, can't take him to the authorities," he told the hollow girl that had no more tears to shed. "They'll hold him captive and the clan don't take kindly to their own in captivity." Words passed from one ear to the other but he prayed and hoped that she'd listen, she had to."They'll raid the village, search every crack and crevice for him, then they'll kill him anyway, along with you and everyone else in the village." But Newt kept her eyes on the open space before her, broken and beyond repair.Devin takes his eyes off her and gazes at the willow tree, "That's what it means to be Marked, you live by the Creed. You live free or die." For a moment, her breathing slows down. Her hands stop shaking but she still stares at nothing. Yet, he doesn't let the sudden silence slide past his ear. But when he turns to face her—He saw her reaching for Tuko's rifle.The scent of grief is heavy in the air. The end game is nigh. Night approaches from the horizon, another twilight in autumn passes, the unforgiving winter getting closer. She crawls to the rifle, he subtly unstraps his pistol. In mourning, she pulls it closer. With caution, his thumb presses down the hammer. Her fingers lock around the trigger, his hands wrap firm around the gun. Newt's rifle was heavy, Devin's draw was quick.And then she points the barrel under her chin before her hands begin shaking violently.Tears pour out her eyes, she begins to silently sob beneath the red autumn sunset. Winds carry her cries along the forest to the whispering trees. Devin eases up his grip. A somber look of surrender is plastered on his face. There is nothing else he can do, loss is something he has felt many times in his past. Friends, lovers—brothers, something he has long accepted as a part of his life, something he cannot change. It hits everyone differently, he understood that long ago. There is no comfort for a grieving sister, none he can give.He turns around and starts walking back from whence he came. What he needed were in his pockets, nothing else to stay for. He walked past her and into the tent to pick up his rifle and then he came back out to her still weeping for her brother. Again, he walked past her. At the back of his head, he hoped she would change her mind.She didn't.He'll never forget the rifle's clatter going off that day. The way the bullet passed through jaw and bone. The way it drowned out the body's heavy thud. Then again, maybe he will. It's hard to remember when you're walking away.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

In the small town of Haruka, three days after the attack on Mistral ….Smoke was rising from the town's fading ember. Buildings were torn down brick by brick. Taverns and Inns were raided for supplies, blacksmiths were robbed of iron and steel. An unforgiving gale swept through the streets of Haruka, a pack of wolves preying on sheep. Daylight came like a solemn eye watching in horror as it illuminated the streets littered with bodies, the blood stained houses, and the lone man crawling his way from the town square. His legs were mangled beyond use. And the only thought that could plague his mind was the narrow tunnel of survival.He never expected this, any of this. When he was assigned to Haruka two months ago, he was already picturing two months of watching livestock and simpletons coexist in a newly-built and smelly settlement. But now he couldn't even picture himself ever using his legs again as he dragged his way out of the slaughter behind him. A few men like him were lucky enough to barely survive the chaos that ensued but weren't lucky enough to endure the killing blows as the raiders swept through the town, like locusts on the field.So he crawled, he crawled as fast as his arms could carry him. Squirming at a snail's pace, passing by broken shields and shattered swords, clambering through shrapnel and skull fragments. But where else could he crawl to? The dirt road leading to the capital city? The hollow pass to the mountains? Or the weeping willow tree at the edge of town? He did not know, he only knew he had to crawl away. It didn't matter, anyway. He wasn't going away unnoticed as a massive axe hanged over him, like a pendulum in motion, inching closer and closer by the minute.Jin Jackal's steel is dyed a dry crimson, it's seen enough battle for one night but it hungers for more. Mistral's military has gotten soft, softer than he remembers or perhaps he has gotten stronger. It has been years since the Armistice between the Wild Faunus Clans and the Mistral council, and it seems that the comfort the kingdom enjoys has bred weakness. This small town is a testament to that.The light breeze grazed upon Jin's short, light-golden hair, a gentle caress in the bloody morning. Flesh and innards were dripping off his thick leather armour. The coming dawn illuminated the clan's sigil on his back, The Devouring Jaws of Clan Jackal. He follows the pathetic worm before him as it crawls to its safe space. Fleeing desperately into the haven of the willow tree. As his men cleaved and cut the remnants of the town guard, Jin's axe hovered over the injured man, hungering.And his hulking boot presses down on the man's shattered foot. There is no more scream for pain, no cry in fear. Just a hopeless attempt to claw a way out as Jin lifts his axe over his head and swings with strength that could cleave mountains.The sunrise greets a graveyard, a town succumbs to war and ruin.Jin stands by the willow tree, enthralled by the long array of leaves flowing from its branches. A mellow yellowish-brown complements the meek sunlight. Memories he is not fond of but the weeping willow is a reminder. A constant voice in the shadow and the cold, awakening his true purpose for everything does. All the battles he had to fight, all the alliances he had to forge, all the people he had to lose.Everything he did was and is, for his clan, his pack.It has been more than twenty years since he lost his mother, Ividja , who always professed deeply her love of the forests of Mistral. Though she does not hunt with the rest of the clan, she was often found lost in the woods, chasing after butterflies and foxes and rabbits. "One with the woods," the clan called her, but there was another reason for her penchant of the forests. It was something she always told him and his brother, Devin, when they were younger, old tales that the clans used to believe in that have faded into obscurity. "Diwa", he recalls, or rather, her voice whispers into his ear. Old spirits it the forests, faces hiding behind trees and underneath lakes. Creatures that were neither god nor man but were made by the God of Creation long before mankind was born. Mischievous things, playful yet deceitful and many of them toyed humanity and faunus alike. Yet they still lived by laws given to them by the God-brothers, laws that fortify their place in the world, laws that Jin would have remembered had he paid attention to his mother's tales.It has been a year since his father passed away. Logge the Fire-eater they called him for when he charged against the armies of Atlas, he was always in his wolf form and he broke down their ranks with his mighty jaws as they tried to shower him with gunfire. Ruthless and unforgiving he was in war but stoic and fair he was to the clan and his family—until Ividja died. Jin will never forget how he wailed in the shaman's tent over her cold body. They found her in the lake by the mountains near Windpath, torn and ravaged by a private army from Atlas. Jackals cried into the moonlight that day, howls echoed through the ears of Mistral. Logge grew mad and relentless, even on his own sons, shaping them through fire and steel. Training became torture, hunts became raids, and though Jin shone through his father's training, Devin did not and the little jackal received the brunt of the Fire-eater's fury. So many times he remembered how close Devin was beaten to death by the madman, yet so many times he remembered remaining at his side—even now, he still does.It has been six years since he executed his brother for treason. Both of them were raised in the era of war but Devin was the one who had barely spent his days with their mother. He was always the one that paid heed to her tales of gods and diwas but cannot remember her too clearly. Her smile, her voice, her caress were all vague memories hidden away in old lockboxes. But surprisingly enough, he did not grow cold and bitter, even with how his father treated the little jackal. He was warm and sweet, especially during their days with the White Fang, he was often the one that gave everybody smiles. Small banter in times of defeat and plenty of horseplay in times of victory. Though he was forfeited of one, how he reminded Jin of their mother was what made him regret that day all the more. For he was too much of their mother in times of war and it made grow too soft that eventually, he left the White Fang and Clan Jackal to live among the humans in their kingdoms. And this devoured their father's soul and drove him even madder. There was a hunt, Jin remembers, it wasn't brief and it costed him more friends than he could count. It was a misty memory but when they finally caught Devin, who else is there to carry out the sentence but him. But what made that day unforgettable wasn't how he flayed the back of Devin's neck and ripped out his ribs one by one. It wasn't the tears in his eyes as flesh dripped from his hands to his feet. It wasn't how he watched as they lifted him up dangling on the branches of the willow tree with arms wide open. The Screaming Angel it was called, a sacrifice through execution. No, what embedded that day in his mind was how Devin smiled at him where most would scream their hearts out. He remembers the little black jackal's laugh, the grin forever etched into his soul."And that's the last of 'em," delights Corvina Tempest in her small voice. The men turn their heads and see the little brown-haired girl in a thick, black blouse carrying a pike three times her size with a corpse still impaled on top. She holds on to her weapon with both hands and tries to shake the thing off. It plops to the ground almost immediately then the pike folds upon itself, shrinking into just a tiny baton in her hand before putting it in her back pocket."Though there wasn't much to begin with," said a hulking middle aged woman walking out of the streets with her men. She was Yelena Briarlock, Lady of Clan Briarlock and she wore thick hide armour and a grey combat skirt with her axe and sword sheathed on each side. Just like many others, she carried a large, round wooden shield on her left arm which she wielded with ease. Her hair was a wooden brown and was braided into locks that went around the tiny antlers on her head."I do disagree, big sister," sneered a scrawny man behind her. He had shorter braids but longer antlers on his head and wore simple cloth with a leather vest to protect his chest. "Me and Darby stabbed plenty, didn't we Darby?" he snickers."That we did, Boc," his twin emerges beside him, he also wears the same outfit but his locks are entangled in his antlers yet he cares little of it. "That we did.""Oh, please you lot stumbled around in the fray and threw those tiny peckers you call swords the moment it began," remarks a stunning young woman. She has short golden hair and cat ears on her head and wears a bright red armour with golden linings drenched in blood. She wields two sickles which she sheathes back to her belt. She was Ember Khayyam, Lady of Clan Khayyam, she bears a more feared name known among the Clans."Slander! Lies and Slander!" shrieks Boc as he points angrily at her. She just laughs off at the bony man with the warrior women beside her."Stay your tongue or we'll stay it for you!" Darby threatens her with a swift wield of his blade."Come and try, bramblehead!" she answers with both sickles in hand and her warriors step up with her. Jin Jackal just sighs in front of them but will rather just let them burn each other out with empty threats and pretentious macho bravado than interfere."Everyone be quiet!" a woman's voice thunders in the morning as another one lands in place. She comes in flying down with great white wings and wearing scaled steel armour. Her blade is smooth iron and her shield thick shark hide. She has pale skin, short hair, and serrated teeth and she bares them upon the twin brothers and sends them cowering behind their sister. Ember remains unfazed."Just shallow bragging and empty threats, Darya. Nothing more," Ember declares with a grin as she puts her blades back. Darya eyes her deeply."Yes, the cat hisses when it cannot win," sneers Darby who is met with Ember's swift turn of the head and squinting sights.Jin lets out a deep breath, breaking from his trance. "So, how does do you fair Clan Mako's first raid with us?" he asks already expecting approval."Hmm" she begins with a deep pondering. This raid lacked in many aspects but also opened her minds to new worlds, "it is different than raiding merchant ships along the coast. More costly but more entertaining."I pray you haven't lost too many men," says Yelena as she eyes her brothers down, "I know I have.""It was just a couple big sister," pleas a cowering Boc."Nothing we can't replace in a day or two—or three," snivels a shaking Darby who receives the brunt of Yelena's judgment.Jin pays no mind to the arguing siblings and turns to Darya with a steep curve on his brow, "What about the outskirts? Any news from Gravelsnout? I don't see any of their men here." His words are snide and doubtful.She shakes her head but Corvina props up like a delighted bird hopping about and raising her hand, "It's as you said, those snotty humans tried to escape through the woods leading to Mistral city," she says with a tiny, snickering voice."Hmph, as you said, the Gravelsnouts rounded up the stragglers," remarks Ember with a sharp yet proud smile."Spread thin as their ranks may be, they still proved useful," agrees Yelena Briarlock.Jin gives out an unimpressed yet satisfied expression and nods in agreement, "Very well, send for Gravelsnout. Tell him to round up the survivors," he asks Corvina who jolts up and runs away in a second.But as she leaves, a messenger arrives wearing a familiar white mask lined by bright red marks. He had a black hood and dark clothes plated with bone white armour. The White Fang messenger was met with the coldest glares from the soldiers and a raised brow from Jin Jackal."Why are you here?" a quiet statement, a soft chill before the winter rages."I'm sorry, Warlord Jackal," the man catches his breath and calms his thoughts, "I have news from Brother Adam—""Speak," he permits with utmost courtesy.The cowering man gulps down hard. Courage is a hard virtue to come by these days and bearing dreadful news to the man they call The Wolf, well, that takes more courage than anyone can find. "T-The White Fang, sir Warlord. They failed the attack on Mistral.""What?!" a roar echoes in the woods of Mistral, sundering trees and sending bird to flight. A wave of gasps and disbelief ebbs through them for but a moment. Then there is anger among the bickering and whispers, ignited by failure, cemented by affirmed expectations for the young new White Fang High Chieftain."Miserable wretch!" screams Boc."After everything we've done for him—" says Darby, "and he still fails?""Someone more useless than the bramble-heads—that is surprising" Ember's smirk is met with quick looks from the two brothers."How?" is all Jin musters, holding back as hard as he can."Huntsmen, sir—" the man tries."But we have thinned down Mistral's ranks. There shouldn't have been enough to push back an attack of that scale, especially with our allies," argues the Yelena."Not from Mistral, Lady Briarlock but from Vale," Jin squints at him, thinking profusely. "And there were reinforcements that came from Menagerie," he informs him with light steps."Ghira" the wolf mutters to himself, realizing crucial failures on the White Fang."I see. So the Albains failed as well." Jin lets out a long sigh, it wasn't news of failure. It was a wake-up call, something he was afraid would come knocking at his door. Years ago, Adam showed promise to his father, Logge Jackal, in the raids on Atlesian caravans and supply trains. Though being merely a splinter group back then, Taurus and his men were heavily supported by Clan Jackal in their operations, with each success, he gained more of their favour. And when the fall of Beacon was orchestrated, it was the clan that supplied the men, the weapons, and the propaganda. All the way until Adam's ascension to High Chieftain, Clan Jackal stood behind him, they invested much in him and awaited the day they could reap what they sowed. But he was a bad investment, and Jin could not stomach bad investments.Still, it doesn't mean he can't recover. Just a minor roadblock, a quick detour before engineering new plans, new stratagems to follow. Rinse and repeat."Fine," he gestures to the Briarlocks. "Bring forth the traitor, we'll try him by the willow tree." Cheers of undaunted obedience erupts from the clans, reinvigorated by the Wolf's words. Yelena turns to her brothers and signals them to fetch the traitor in chains. "Ember," Jin continues, "take your people and search every building, turn this town household by household for any remaining survivors. Bring every damn human here," Ember grins, Darya follows and with their men they scavenge the burned town, eager to feed their blades and axes once again."And you," he looks down on the messenger, "tell Adam to meet us by the Mangrove's road near Camp Titanfall," an order that saves the White Fang man's skin."The one north of the great lake, past the city of Windpath?" he stammers but intended to ask humbly."Yes," and a humble answer he receives, "We'll meet you after we finish what we came for here," the man nods nervously, "Go!" Jin shoos him away and off he flies with his tail between his legs.The sky beams a humble blue hue as grey clouds approach that late autumn morning.Cheers begin to erupt from the back of the crowd, the people gave way as Boc and Darby drag a young frail man in tattered clothes by his arms. His hands are still in chains and his reluctant feet scrape away at the ground below but when he sees Jin Jackal's waiting glare, they begin to push away and resist, like a rat fleeing when its tail is caught on the hinge of a trap.A small crowd followed behind, prisoners held by the clans. Led by Clan Khayyam, Ember and her warriors whipped and pushed them around like cattle until they presented themselves before Jin the Wolf. Barely a few soldiers in the crowd's ranks, mostly women, children, and the elderly all ragged, filthy, and wounded. Another group walked beside them, also captives. But this one was held by a round, hulking boar of a man with thick, dark skin and sharp tusks protruding from his lower jaw. "Porto Gravelsnout!" Jin welcomes him with wide arms and he responds with a wider smile. "Did I not say this would be a worthwhile raid?" he chuckles.The boar-man shoves his way through the lines to embrace the proud Wolf, "Indeed you did, Lord Jin. My men haven't seen a raid like this in months!""And there will be more to come," he smiles as he gives him a pat on the cheek before walking back to the willow tree.Boc and Darby hold down the traitor before the tree who is still quaking in his knees. A rat eyeing down its captor as it squirms on all fours. Futile and almost pitiful for Jin Jackal to look upon had he mercy left to spare. A slower pace, like a wolf eyeing his toy, "What's your name again?"A thousand scenarios played in his head but none of them had a question, "What?" he tried to reply."Your name, brother," calm like the grey sky, "What is it?""W-what?" he repeats, a silent squeak that the wolf heard loud and clear."What kind of name is Wwhat?" he looks at the Briarlock brothers who snicker at his words. "Do you speak English, Wwhat?""W-w-what?" he squeaks one last time before Jin drives his boot deep into his belly."ENGLISH YOU STUPID RAT! DO YOU SPEAK IT?!" he demands like a snarling dog as he swung his massive axe to the man's side. Embedding it on the hard ground, much to the amusement of the clansmen with him. People laugh aloud and bang their shields and chests as Jin put on a display."Y-y-yes" the man coughs out as he feels last night's red wine dinner coming out."Then what is your name?" he demands again, straight to the man's face. "A simple question, all I ask." He paces around, the crowd cheers his name."Pe-petey," a hint of air slivers through his about-to-be vomit-clogged throat. Petey's diaphragm wails in pain, breathing becomes heavier by the second."What was that?" Jin lends an ear to the aching man, more than he deserves."Pe-petey, sir Jackal," says Petey before turning to the ground and regurgitating what looks like hollow bean shells and digested bits of liver."You know why you're here, Petey? Why you stand before the clans now under the willow tree?" his massive hand almost the size of Petey's face as he flares his finger at him."It was becau—""It was because you were caught and chained and caged like wild animal!" he growls, mad as a dog and impatient as a wolf.Petey is in dismay, when he heard the gunshots and ringing of swords, he pictured his salvation close to his grasp. So he begs, "I didn't mean to—"he tries but sees a hounding Jin circling around him like a wolf closing down on its prey. "My patrol was defeated, I had no choice but to surrender"Then Jin's expression was shrouded by a dark cloud. A storm brews in his thoughts, raging violently in that sea of regrets and convictions. His mother whispers and his father screams, an endless cycle of conflict begets a hand full of fury that reaches for his massive axe and upheaves it from the ground. "Wait, no-!" Petey pleads but Jin ignores it and when the axe transforms into a shotgun—He fires it behind his back, blowing up one of the survivor's heads into a scattered pulp of brain and skull.The survivors scream and quiver at the sight of one of their own brutally shot at. "Aw, goddamn it," complains Porto as he was the one covered in the fleshy bits of a man's former head, trying his best to scrape and wipe away the blood from his clothes. The corpse falls forward, triggering another wave of shrieks from the survivors. Children cried, the clans cheer, Jin kept his back turned and his eyes fixated upon the tiny man, unmoved."Do you know the Creed, Petey?" he whispers down to the man who has pissed himself long ago.But the shaking man had no other choice but to answer. At this point on, there are no right answers anyway, "T-t-the what?" he perks up his head, a glimmer of hope sparks desperate curiosity.But the wolf stays his temper and shakes his head before turning around to face the clans. Silence clouds them all, anticipating his orders. His boots drive heavy into the ground, dust scatter beneath his feet. He signals one of his clansmen before walking up to Darya who watches with time shattering vigilance."You do the honours," he whispers to her and she subtly pops out a surprised expression.A thick-bearded, dark-skinned man in heavy leather armour walks up to them carrying a large wooden box. He hands it to Jin who opens it immediately in front of her, inside are an iron-clad glove with finely honed fingertips and knuckles that can cut clean through flesh, a heavy squared metal hammer with its sides still smoothed clean, and a ceremonial dagger with a bone-plated hilt and serrated blade still dried with blood. "You want me to do it?" she asks reluctantly but in the back of her head, she cannot fathom the pride in carrying out the tradition and takes all of the tools out of the box and into her large scaly hands."Carve an angel out of him," Jin's words forces the panic out of Petey's heart."A Screaming Angel," Darya smiles and he nods back with simple eyes."Wait, please! Don't do this!" Petey instantly stands up and tries to run at the two Clan leaders but is stopped in his tracks by Boc and Darby who subdue him by the shoulders. "Please!" he cries out, tears erupt from his eyes like fountains, "Please, I had no choice," the brothers begin to carry him to the willow tree. He's still struggling from their grasp. Darya follows slowly, the glove on her left hand holds the hammer and the right holds the dagger. Still, Petey begs, "Please, they killed everybody in my group. All my friends, my clansmen, I did everything I could," one last try, one last time.And for a moment, the Wolf turns his head and he was given a second. Just one second of Jin's priceless time, "If you did, you wouldn't be here right now," and it was a second that shattered him into a screaming mess of despair.The brothers pull back harder, the man is driven mad by grief, kicking and screaming pleas that are neither Jin to give nor his to receive. They force him to his knees, the ground is jagged and unwelcoming. Petey fights and squeals like pig in the slaughterhouse as Darya wastes no time and makes a small incision on the mark on the back of his neck with the bladed fingertips. Then she pulls back the skin and slides the jagged dagger down his flesh and flaying huge chunk of his skin from his back.A cry of pain echoes like a symphony. Each slide of the blade is welcomed by cheering clans. Jin Jackal paces back to his men and the other clans, his dead glare sends captive citizens to curl up into their loved ones and families as they are forced to watch a man flayed alive before them. More of Clan Jackal run up to the three carrying with them ropes and hammers and nails and hooks. They toss ropes over the willow tree's branches and secure them with hooks hammered to the ground. And while Darya carves out Petey's back from his mark, they tie knots around his arms and legs tightly and carefully, don't want to pull on his flesh too much."Watch," the wolf barks the order and silences the roaring crowd of clans, "and Listen."They lend their ears and pay unwavering attention. Every clan, every man, woman, and child—everybody."He is Marked," he begins, a low moan under the greying sky, "As are all of you. The Wolf's bite is embedded on his neck as it embedded on yours." He points a sharp finger down the man, everyone's eyes flare with judgement. His words drown the man's screams like howls in the night drowning the singing forest."That Mark is not given! That Mark is not earned! Our elders kissed him on his Naming day as your elders kissed you." He waves his hand around the crowd, hundreds, if not thousands, raise their chins high, their eyes gaze upon a heaven-sent angel for them. A messiah in wolfskin—and his name is Jin Jackal."That Mark is duty, etched on skin and carved on bone!" shoulders back, chest out and his fist pounds hard on the leather armour as his howls match the shifting breeze. "Do not mistake that Mark as a trophy you bear or a medal you wear. That Mark binds you to the clan—every piece of you," a faint whisper, a grim reminder.Petey wails like lamb in the slaughter. The serrated blade slides smoothly through his spine and chips off parts of vertebrae. It's both a miracle and a curse that he hasn't fainted from the pain yet. The skin down his neck has been peeled off like a banana and the stoic leader of Clan Mako begins flaying his back open, the dagger digs lightly into his flesh, careful to avoid hitting organs or arteries, keeping him alive as long as she can. Then the incisions are made and she begins peeling off the skin, opening his back like book. "Tooth and nail! Grit and wit, bound to the clan from your Naming day to your last breath! Remember who you are-" then his voice calms all of a sudden, like a quiet sea below the passing storm."And who do you think you are?" a solemn air engulfs the clans. A moment to think and rethink, to dig deep for lost answers for questions buried away long ago. But still, they remembered.And they thundered in their steps. Hundreds cheer and chaos surrounds Jin Jackal as his clan—and all the other clans—erupt into a symphony of pounding shields and arms and weapons raised in the air. Many answered his call, an endless ocean that echoed upon itself, drowning the surviving villager's whimpers and Petey's rib cracking at the blunt of Darya's first blow."Jackal!" from the back prides in his clan's name."Jackals!" a woman corrects his misplaced pride."Jackals in the winter cold!" another finds depth in her duty, serenity in her purpose."Fangbrothers!" they embrace what they truly are."You are Jackals!" Jin shouts back, his voice hoarse from battle yet fierce and ferocious. "Hides thick as shields and fangs sharp as steel. Carved in battle and hardened by winters. You are not born! You are Made just as I am! Just as he was!" his points behind him. Then he turns, his glare falls upon the man whose screams are already being drowned out by the applause of his former brothers and sisters.The hammer lands hard on his back again and Darya bends another rib backward, her hand pulls back and ready to swing again. "No one is above their clan," Jin bellows before the roaring horde. "We do not put ourselves before our Clan, even if we witness our brothers and sisters fall before us," he glances at the man behind who can no longer match his agony with tears and has been wailing for what feels like an eternity below the willow tree. "That is not what the Creed tells us.""Dare we forget the Creed?" he throws the question and the ground shakes with Jackals shivering to their core. There are few things to fear and love in this world and Jin the Wolf is one of them.He growls, the wolf is calm and collected. His eyes find no one, they don't need to. He knows those who stand beside him and those who don't. And the words fill his head and duty floods his heart. Thoughts of his father, his mother—and most importantly—his brother scatter in his mind for a moment but that isn't a luxury he can afford.He looks to the pack, and only the pack, as he beckons.I am a Jackal, Jin begins, his men follow. An unforgotten song, and this is my packThere are many like it but this one is mine. Slowly they gathered their voices, steadily their melody rose into a harmony.The hammer was heavy on his exposed ribs. Blood spurted from his back and muscles were torn by her blow alone.The pack is my family, it is my life, Yelena stood with the Briarlocks in silence. Listening to the grim tune of Jackals in their finest form.And I shall serve it as I serve my life, Ember mutters words under her breath. Long has she known part of the creed. But those nights spent with Jin Jackal taught her much more than a clan's creed, passion under soft covers, beneath watching stars. She remembered the taste of conviction, dripping sweet on his lips.And I stand behind it in victory, she cried and pounded on her bright reddened armour. It resounded like a war drum marching on the field of war, leading her clan—her pride—into a blaze of glory, win or lose.And fall beside it in defeat. The hammer fell again on bone and again his cry was drowned by the Creed.To serve the pack, I must live free, the Wolf echoed his voice ever louder against the listening trees and whispering woods. His clan matched his pride, matched his roar, matched his heart.Never to be bound in chains, the shackles upon Petey's wrists tightened as a small pump of adrenaline pulled back at the chains.Never to be trapped in a cage, the men did not give him the room, they had to let Darya work as smoothly as she can.I live free or die, Angels weren't easy to carve.To serve my pack, the words began to pass through Yelena Briarlock, May my blade be swifter. A long lost song suddenly echoed upon her soul.Than my enemies before me, it had been too long since she laid eyes upon someone with such drive and ferocity.My shield stronger than their blows, it had been too long since she found purpose and will to move forward with her clan.Heart be fierce and mind be sharp, it had been too long since she lived. And now, she had never felt more alive.She thunders with the clans, moved by the howling wolf in his golden fur upon the darkening sky. "I shall hunt as a jackal, Gravelsnout wasted no time and erupted with everyone else, shaking the ground and the survivors to the core.I shall fight as a jackal, Clan Khayyam bursts like mad lions ravaging a herd in their wake. Boc and Darby shared a grin that cuts from ear to ear as they watched Petey the rat was slowly butchered.Jin cracked a smile, nothing could have matched his peace of mind that day. Clans united under one banner, under one goal, under one Creed. I shall live as a jackalOr I shall die as a jackal, Petey has run out of screams and tears as Darya finishes bending the last rib. The shackles narrow again and she pins the ribs on the skin, securing them tightly. And yet he still lives, breathless and dazed but still alive by a thread. Then he is hoisted up into the air, lifted atop the willow's weeping branches with his back opened like book for the entire village to see.A Screaming Angel that has breathed its last by the willow tree.And the clans screamed and cheered and howled. A great triumph is bestowed upon them today. A village overpowered, a traitor tried and sentenced, a wolf grinning at the sight of the first of many victories.Jin stands down and walks to Porto, Darya looks up marvelling at her handiwork. She catches a quick glimpse of Jin impressed at her first try, a swift nod from him congratulates her, though she is proud enough to know she doesn't need any. Porto meets the wolf's red eyes, squinting narrowly and sharply at them as if asking, "What do we do with them?" he shifts his gaze at the remaining survivors frozen in horror.And the wolf replied, "Make that Willow wail." And the hulking Gravelsnout smiled."Alright! You heard the man!" he beckons at all the clans, Darya raises her head and a brow, Yelena turns sharply at the boar, and Ember smiles in delight, it is the moment she's been waiting for."Nails and Hammers!" she screams at her clan and they cheer as they run back behind the yard and each grabs stout hammers and rusty nails. And when there were no more hammers to get, they picked up rocks and bricks and gave them to the other clans.Jin walks past the crowd as the Gravelsnouts and Briarlocks begin dragging the survivors by the tree. Whimpering people are hurled and thrown about by the yard. They gaze upon the sight of a bleeding Petey above them as the Faunus push them to the tree. Darby has the first honour, he grabs an old man by his neck and pins him by the hard bark and then stabs him in the back with the long nail. The hammer fell quick and heavy, and he repeatedly pounded hard with it, laughing and snickering all the way. And when the nail was fixed deep on his back and pierced through his chest, he took another one and pinned it on the arm with the same rapid and maddening motion.And though Jin walks back into the city without bothering to look back at the mounds of people being nailed into the Willow tree, he still finds a clean serenity in hearing the cries of pain and anguish behind. It was a mellow tune playing softly for his ears, like clear water on a warm summer day.He stops for a moment and takes that one long breath of fresh air. The sky begins to clear again, the sun peeking out behind grey, rainless clouds. It shines its radiance upon the burned down remains of Haruka.Another deep breath to clear his thoughts. Memories are persistent pests that cloud judgment and decision. His mother, his father, his brother are all distractions he has neither the time nor the patience for.But Adam Taurus—now, that's someone that's deserving of his time- only his time.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

There may never be a finer and bluer day than today with cool winds sing like a poet on stage. But not for Qrow, who, in the spirit of good will (and under orders from Ozpin), finds himself waiting again for that one guy—that one guy whose smirk can cost him his day. That one guy whose voice can make him wanna drink himself to death, not that there is enough alcohol in the world to do just that. That one guy with that long, smug face and terribly messy hair paired with the flimsiest jackal ears. He's that one guy that reminds Qrow that his semblance truly is misfortune.And now, that one guy is making him wait in a cemetery in the middle of nowhere.Shallow graves with moss crawling on the tombstones. Mistral doesn't always have that flare for funerals. Maybe because only those that can afford them can be buried inside the city walls. Mostly upper class and elite types of people are honored the access of the city cemeteries with those marble mausoleums and deep, dark obsidian plaques. Dying is more expensive than living, so those who can't will rather bury their dead outside the walls, guarded only by a few men during wakes and funerals as the families' grief attracts nearby grimm. Qrow ponders for a moment, perhaps that's why their meeting at an unmarked graveyard in the middle of nowhere. Perhaps he and Devin do have something in common-a seething hatred for rich pricks.And speaking of pricks, he can see one right now, coming out the woods. The prick's vividly dark-green coat is swaying with the wind, one hand holds on to that black beanie cap on his head and the other tightens its grip on the rifle strapped to his shoulder. He wore a grey shirt under a greyer vest where his pistol holster was strapped on. "You're late," Qrow snaps at him, visibly annoyed, the usual."You're early," Devin answers back, that burning smirk still one face.Qrow scoffs, not much use fighting it but he still does, "You're the one that said eleven, been here since ten-thirty."Devin shrugs and raises that silver smirk all the way up to his ear, "So what, early bird? Want the worm?""Screw you," says Qrow with a hoarser voice, today must be a special kind of hell if he let Ozpin put him up to it."Oh," Devin exclaims, his hands cross on his chest and he feigns a surprised expression, "you have to take me to dinner first," he replies, making Qrow badly want to reach for that flask of his. "And I don't come cheap."Devin then lays his rifle to a gravestone beside him and Qrow didn't realize this earlier but the little jackal had this rugged leather sack strapped to his back. He took it off and held it by his side, and Qrow hears the heavy clanking of wood and metal as it dangles in one hand. But he just raises a brow and eats his words, he's expecting an explanation soon enough. That bastard always had a flair for the dramatic.Miles of thick forests loom over the horizon with entrancing tranquility. Fresh air kisses their skin with the coolest lips as a few clouds join this sapphire morning. Sad to say that Qrow isn't enjoying any of it, "What are we doing here anyway?" But when Qrow blinks an eye with tired exasperation, he finds Devin already holding a severely used shovel in one hand."Need to show you something.""What is it?" he asks, regretfully"You'll see once we dig it up," he says without breaking that piercing grin."You've got to be kidding me" he tries to level with him, eyes looking for reason but it seems like they're lost at sea.And before he can speak further, Devin jabs a shovel into Qrow's chest. It was heavy on a battle-worn body, the rust scraping off into his clothes, and Devin's grin just wide in front of him. "Dove Cowan, shallow earth, unmarked grave." Then he walks his way and expects Qrow to walk the other, the wind carries the tails of their coat softly into its plight and brushes by a greatly confused crow."What the hell does that mean?!" he screams without thought."Dove Cowan! Shallow earth! Unmarked grave!" he answers blindly from the distance."May I ask why?""No, you may not," he walks an uphill path where the graves are older and the epitaphs have faded. Tombstones begin to cover his silhouette and the old uncle just groans to himself because his orders are to meet up and listen.So Qrow wanders about, his eyes find no peace among aging headstones and thick grass, the jackal's smug smile still running amok his head. He can't find it in himself to level with him. Sometimes, Devin acts professional but most of the time he prefers to be an idiot with a plan. He of all people should know full well that the dead are not to be disturbed. But the little jackal waste no time nitpicking from an ancient graveyard like plucking off flowers from a bush, the dead don't take kindly to that.Names on stones begin passing by his side like faint city lights over the horizon on a midnight road trip. Needless to say, he has forgotten what Devin wanted him to do. It always seems like Devin Jackal is in a whole different world. One without Salem and her Grimm, one without maidens and relics. One with old gods and wolves, and right now, he's not liking that the little jackal is at it again. He already has so much in his plate without the little jackal invoking the wrath of the vengeful dead. Frankly, he can practically hear their whispers behind the trees and stone. Already hear the scolding and the murmurs. He can hear them condemn them, curse them, impale them with pained words. The axe upon his head hangs by a thread and all that it takes for it to fall is one word, one breath—one more whisper.Suddenly, he stops in his tracks. Something caught his eye by the woods. Something pale, he cannot make out its figure. It's no longer there when he turned his head. Although, he could have sworn the whispers sounded closer than he'd like them to be.Devin paces on top of the hill. He can feel it in his bones, the touch of his fingers shiver as he caresses the cold soil. It was a cool morning in autumn and yet the grass was dry. Some patches were so barren that no insect crawled on it. There was no doubt about it, he could smell it in the air and feel it in the wind. This was hallowed ground and he and Qrow were about to rip it a new one.But he goes forward, his grip tightens on the shovel and grin widens from ear to ear, "Qrow! Over here! He yells from a great distance, almost a howl in the horizon. And then he tilts his head, his ears listen closely. The whispers grow louder as they notice that he noticed."Good, she's watching," he delightfully with an ear-to-ear grin.Qrow grabs firmly onto his shovel and runs back almost immediately. He's still not on board with this, despising every second of it. It feels less right by the minute. He's pretty sure that he's already haunted till the day he dies. "Did you find it?" he asks thoughtlessly as he sees Devin by the hill.Devin turns and meets him with radiant eyes and then he takes a step to the side and shows him the grave, "Nope."Upon the headstone the words were shoddily engraved, Marvin Oakley, greatly missed.Qrow stared at him tired and in disbelief. His hand envelopes his face with shame as he tries to compose himself, "Devin," he begins, "what the hell is this?"Devin looks at the stone for a moment, feigning confusion as poorly as he can. "Marvin Oakley?" he answers uncertainly."I thought you said Dove Cowan, shallow earth, unmarked grave," he flaunts his hands mockingly and imitates the little jackal's tone."I did, but I couldn't find him. He's not here," he frowns for a moment, just a moment. "So this'll do," then he drives the shovel deep into the ground and takes out a large patch of soil off the grave."What the hell are you doing?!" Qrow throws his composure away to try and talk some sense into him. "You're gonna curse us for no reason!""Keep ya trousers on, we'll be fine," and with that, another patch of soil is dug up."No! This is not why we hired you for. You were supposed to be our eyes and ears behind enemy lines," he screams infernal words at him, eyes ablaze and fists clenched till the knuckles cracked twice "but then you went dark for the last couple of months.""Course I was," he said frankly, "I was out scouring the area, makin' sure what we're up against.""You were supposed to look after the girls.""No—"he responds with a long swing of his head and a condescending tone, "I was supposed to look after them and make sure they get to Mistral safely.""Well, did they?!" Qrow opens his arms and gestures wildly, like a mentor baffled by the limit of their student's stupidity.Devin stops digging for a moment and takes a moment to ponder. He nods sideways repeatedly, as if measuring the circumstances, and debating and agreeing with himself, "Yeah, yeah they did.""Oh, really?!" Qrow flared up and saw only red, "So, Ruby and her team didn't just get attacked by psychopath with a poisoned tail?"Devin blanks his eyes and swiftly says, "Coincidental, but it was nothing they couldn't handle."And he fires back fast, "How 'bout Weiss crash-landing on Mistral soil?""She steered towards trouble, should have been smooth-sailing once they left Atlas. Even got my guy's guy killed.""Belladonna Manor getting attacked?""Could have been worse, managed to lighten their load in me own way," he winks at him and it just pisses him off to high heavens. And then gazes into Qrow's eyes, the smug look on the jackal ever smuggier, "Propaganda doesn't spread itself." Another wink and he lets him talk again."And Yang heading to Raven's tribe?""That was honestly pretty stupid on her part," he says with one hand on the waist and the other gesturing on the air, deflecting all of Qrow's accusations."How about the attack on Mistral? Seem like you forgot to warn us about that. Pretty sloppy for our look out," he stares at him with cold eyes.Then the wind blows a swift breath, the air turns thick and musty. Devin gazes blankly at him for an instant. The accusations are piling up and even he is running out of answers. Qrow begins to breath heavily, can't let the little jackal slide scot free. Consequences have to be sentenced and he knows when a man is hiding his guilt away. Devin places his foot on the shovel's back edge and rests his arm by the elbow on top of its handle. His attention turns away from Qrow as he glosses over the green horizon."Seems like you forgot my duties end once the girls are in Mistral," he answers with honeyed words and a grin, "my sights are set on the Clans now."And those words echoed throughout Qrow's being. Reverberating into his soul like wailing inside a cavern. His eyes shiver, unable to face the reality that it's about to get a hell of a lot worse. And for a fraction of a moment, birds forgot their songs, leaves ceased their fluttering on the winds. And in that flash of a moment, all he saw was wolves on burning fields. Shattered shields and torn banners. A predator watches from the woods, eyeing down the prey. And in the distance, war drums.Then he snaps out of it, a quick shake and the air is thick and fresh, and the birds sing into the approaching afternoon warmth. "Why didn't you tell me?!" he spouts at Devin, scolding him like a father does to the delinquent son."Because you wouldn't believe me.""What the hell do you mean?" eyes glare red, "you don't think I'd trust you?""Thought you'd be in denial.""Denial?!" confused anger flares from him, "Why would I deny that some ancient, barbaric clan led by your animal of a brother is about to get us?"Devin steps back and breaths quick but quietly, Qrow definitely did not understand the gravity of the situation, he didn't even hear the little black jackal properly at all, "I said Clans.""Clans?" he calms down and digests it slowly but every tissue and muscle down his throat wants to vomit it back out. He wishes he didn't hear that properly.Another quick breath and he realizes that Qrow is finally listening, "They're gathering Qrow, Jin's rallying the other clans."Long inhales and even longer exhales as Qrow steadily takes it all in. "How many?" he calmly assesses."Seven? Maybe Eight Clans are with him now, we're looking at at least twelve-thousand strong, not counting the pirates he employed north.""That's not good, you should've have told us sooner.""I wanted to show you." And then he grabs the shovel again and raises it high in the air, and then drives it deep into the ground. A soft squish is heard underneath all the hard dirt and Devin feels the thin, rotten flesh pierced by the rusted steel.And the predator snaps, fury erupts from its veins. From the woods, it pounces fast, trembling the ground beneath Devin and Qrow. And suddenly, there was a woman standing between them. Devin pulled back but Qrow unsheathed his weapon in an instant. The lady had pale, white skin, almost bland and void of color. She was thin and frail, her hair was as white as snow, almost translucent in the morning wind. She wore a ragged grey blouse and her eyes, well, she had no eyes."What the hell?!" Qrow shouts in a panic but Devin sees him draw his blade and gestures for him to calm down and put it back. Qrow mouths back, protesting what the little black jackal is suggesting. But he just replied with the same thing."Calm down," he mouths again, "it's gonna be okay.""Yes…. it shall…. be okay…. little crow," the woman spoke in a deep, slow, and howling voice, as if a thousand other voices emanated from her throat, clawing their way out of a hollow pit. "You… are not… the one I want," and then her head snaps, quite literally as bones crack with the turn, at Devin. "you desecrate… my grave… little jackal."Devin perks up straight and arms himself with a grin and a bow, "Apologies, Liadann. I merely seek an audience with you.""Honeyed words… will not… save you judgement… little jackal.""Good, coz I wasn't planning to anyway," he springs in his step and walks back, then he turns and extends his arms as if leading the way. "I need your help in finding someone?""Finding… Someone..?" she ponders, treading carefully along the path of the little black jackal. "This is… a summoning..?""Indeed, it is," he answers and then suddenly Devin composes himself and spoke in a deeper voice, he opens his arm again and begins chanting but this time Qrow paid close attention but he couldn't understand what the little jackal said. "Sevoz ik ta, Liadann," a strong musk surrounds them, its scent was dust and gravel. It manifested itself into a thick fog, clouding their sights but Qrow could still see the goddess, the Dwata before him and Devin, and he is not liking it one bit. "Ina sij Kalwang Ligau," the graveyard wailed as if the souls buried it awoke, or rather, were awoken by a call. Devin Jackal stared down the eye holes of the angered spirit. Above their surface, pitch black like a night without stars. But as he went deeper, he gazed upon the watching souls beneath the shell of Dwata. And finally, he gave his request, "trebaksam hnap siyo.""Seviz," she howls in an equally an unearthly voice, "Dayme Seviz.""Dove Cowan," he finally replies and then the air loses its shadow. The musk dissipates from the air and the scent has evaporated. A bright sun shines once more into the high noon and Qrow finds himself disoriented from everything that happened. Liadann stares into a green horizon, Devin waits for her to budge. He is quite sure that the summon worked, but nothing happening is starting to make him worry.But finally, Liadann turns, torso first and bones crack, then her waist follows backwards and she heads out to the thick forest. Qrow shakes off the confusion and finds Devin behind the disappearing fog. "What the hell just happened?" he whispers roughly.Devin shrugs again, "Summoning worked," then he gives Qrow that half-stressed/half-relieved look and follows the pale goddess into the woods.Qrow grabs him by the shoulder, eyes flare with confusion and disdain, "What have you gotten us into, Devin?"But Devin suddenly stops smiling, his eyes are heavy and unflinching. He ignores Qrow and turns around to pick up the sac along with his rifle. And before can answer, Liadann speaks from the woods, "Come…mortals," she calls.Slowly losing his sanity, he faces the little black jackal again who takes out a pack of cigarettes and purses his lips around one. He reaches for the zippo lighter inside his coat and lights the stick, taking a deep breath afterwards."You need to understand the gravity of the situation," he bellows a sad tune and then walks forward, following Liadann's call. Qrow is estranged about all of this, comprehension is beyond reach but he treads anyway.The woods were damp and dark, the walk was silent. Qrow treaded carefully, his hand ready to reach his blade and take down a head- or two. Devin keeps on a straight face, he paces slowly and calmly, the cigarette butt pressed loosely between his lips. A small line of smoke rising from the burning tobacco. Liadann leads the way, unfazed by the little jackal behind her. She wishes only to finish the request and return to her slumber."Liadann," Qrow whispers, a faint memory surfaces from the back of his head. The name rings a familiar tone."Patron of Lost Souls," Devin whispers back, pursing his lips as he takes a deep breath and lets the heavy smoke circulate his lungs. "The guide for the unburied and unnamed graves.""So what does this mean?" he looks at the jackal, wisps of smoke permeate into the musk of the forest. The sweet scent of green is drowned by the rough, husky taste of nicotine."It means you have to trust me now, more than ever," it sounded more of a cry for help rather than a piece of advice.Qrow smiles then he scoffs as Devin turns his head, curious to find the old crow smile for the first time today, "I've always trusted you. We all trusted you.""Huh," he feels something he hasn't felt in a long time."What is it?""Nothing, just not used to it," uncertain and clouded like a thick mist of smoke but Qrow only sees the wisps from his cigarette."It looks like you're the one that doesn't trust us.""Maybe," he ponders, "Thought you'd have your reservations.""Oh, we do," Qrow says with a sharp assurance, "It's just that you're—""The only one you can afford?" he completes his sentence hastily."You're the devil," corrects Qrow, this time, it's his turn to grin.And the two men share the laugh through the dark and murky forest. Critters scatter about looking for food, both predator and prey. And Devin Jackal takes another swig of his cigarette and holds in that heavy taste of nicotine, "Why trust me then?" the question permeates through his mind.Qrow walks forward, the sliest smile cracks from the corner of his lips and he whispers in his deep, husky voice, "Better the devil you know.""Than the devil you don't," answers Devin with his own grin.They push forward, a steady pace on hard ground. The sun begins its journey west, a vibrant red sky on the autumn afternoon. The trees whisper and Liadann whispered to them. Whispers as hollow as her eyes. The wind picks up, one gentle caress over the forest and Devin holds on to his beanie cap and his coat. Lips bite down hard on the cigarette stick and then the wind picks up again, howling stronger. "The smoke," Liadann tells him and he understands, reluctantly in fact. He takes out the stick and wets his finger on his tongue before dabbing the faint ember of tobacco and nicotine out.Another hour of trekking and the ground is starting to feel softer. Bird songs faded into the mild afternoon, the winds have ceased their whispers. Devin keeps a straight face as he walks, but Qrow bats an eye. One glimpse here, another quick look there and he's noticing the growing emptiness around them. A patch of the forest has been cleared, trees mangled and branches broken off. Faint footprints upon dried leaves, shattered armor and shrapnel on the ground. There is little doubt in his mind but then Liadann stops, and so did Qrow's heartbeat. There, before them, she presents the willow tree.Dried blood ran down its trunk in long streaks. Rusted blades and steel were embedded on its bark. Corpses of Mistral soldiers have been mangled beyond recognition and left nailed hanging on the willow tree, claw and fang marks. And atop the branches, between the weeping leaves suspended one man. His arms extended open, dangled by battered ropes. Eyes bloodshot, staring at Earth below, like a tortured angel fallen from grace. And his back was ripped open, the skin flayed into wings, rotting flesh riddled with holes from the buzzards pecking at his carrion."The Clans," Qrow mutters between cold breaths. "So, this is what they do.""Like a swarm decimating all in its wake," Devin answers solemnly.Qrow lifts his finger and points to the dangling body, "Is that-?" he expected hollow words from the little jackal but he didn't even get a nod. "Dove Cowan?"Then Devin looks up, takes one long breath of air and sighs deeply, "That" he points up, words lost for a moment, carried by the wind, "is a declaration of war."

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

A week ago, in a hilltop café in Mistral…A faint but eager sunrise dawns upon the city of Mistral. Its hills sing to the gleaming morning, dogs stretched their limbs and roosters crow that early tune. Inside an old small café, Team RWBY spends a vibrant morning on wooden chairs and dusty tables after waking up, or rather, being woken up so early by Ruby and Yang from their soft, cozy beds."Blake, I thought you said this place was great," scolded Weiss who was visibly displeased with staring at cracked walls and the chipped doorframe."I said it was famous, not great. Hold on, lemme check the reviews on Munchkins," she said before taking out her Scroll and fiddling at it, scrolling the contents up rapidly."Floorboards feel old, the table cloth's dusty as hell, and I swear I can hear a ghost moaning about.""The Immortal Café," Yang shrugged, "doesn't look like its living up to the expectations." Then she looks at them with that sun kissed smile.Everyone groans but Ruby jolts up and shushes her lips, "Ssssh, don't be rude, sis.""Not like the old bat could hear us," remarks Weiss who is irritated from the sun rays seeping through supposedly shut windows."Oh, I can hear you just fine," a raspy voice whisper behind her.She jumps up like scared cat onto Ruby's lap, who receives the full brunt of her weight like Atlas carrying the clouds on his shoulder. A short old man holding a tray full of coffee mugs and a tea cup approaches their table. His eyes were a ghostly grey, translucent against the sunlight. His complexion was a soft, coffee brown and he wore a plain black t-shirt and loosely-fitted shorts. But as he approached the four with a slow, hunched walk, they slowly saw his gummy yet sweet smile through all his wrinkles. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you.""Oh, you didn't," Blake smirks and side-eyes Weiss who still has her arms wrapped around Ruby's neck. Ruby doesn't seem to mind, the old man has her attention. But Weiss does, and immediately jumps out of Ruby's lap and back onto her chair."Yeah, Weiss was just admiring the interior," Yang sun-kissed grin pierces through Weiss' thick skin."Shut up, Yang," her words are cold but her face is red hot from embarrassment."It's alright," the old man pardons her with a mellow smile as he serves them each their order. Strong black coffee for Yang, a warm cup of espresso with light touches of cream, a hot cup of tea with subtle hints of honey for Blake, and a coffee smothered with lots of cream and lots of sugar for Ruby."I have to admit," Blake says with disappointed in her voice, "this isn't what I expected when I saw your café online." Her mouth cringes at every word, shy to say what she really has to say."How so?" the old man asks confidently."Well," she ponders, the tea cupped in her hands and softly rocking with her thought, "I was hoping it had a more—vibrant—atmosphere?""Yeah," Yang agrees with a raised brow and a suddenly stern expression, "It doesn't look anything like the ad online." She showed the old man her Scroll, the picture of a bright, radiant, and bustling café filled with lively tourists and livelier music is open on its screen."Ah, yes the hill has stopped singing nowadays," he says somberly. Everyone's holed up in their own home and are too preoccupied to walk around Mistral. You know how it is with kids, they don't go about like they used to.""Is that so?" Blake asked, gripping her cup, curious and slightly thirsty. "So, people don't come here anymore?" the man nods."Then why does it still have a high rating on Munchkins?" Yang exclaims, holding her Scroll in front of her and waving it in disbelief.And the old man smiled humbly, he merely held Yang's hands and puts down her phone. "Dearie, it's best you taste it yourself," he nudges the cup towards her but pulls back, as did Ruby and Weiss. But Blake grew curiouser and takes the first sip among the team. Immediately, the gentle aroma courses throughout her veins, the warmth of the tea and the delightful hint of honey teasing her as it goes down her throat like a lover's sweet caress. She lets out soft moans without the warning nor the care for them. While the rest of the team are fixated on Weiss avoiding the old man's eyes, Blake is obsessed with chugging the whole cup like a swivel of beer. Not her usual style, but there's a first time for everything."Uh, Blake," Ruby leans closer to her, "are you okay?"But Blake lets out a soft sigh, the breath of contentment fills the air with a heavenly aroma, infectious but irresistible.In her curiosity, Weiss also samples her cup of coffee. With an open mind but a skeptical heart, the first gulp washes down her throat but its warmth is embedded upon her tongue. The bitter aroma of coffee airs throughout her body, cleansing her of all impurities and imperfections."Woah," Yang stares at both of them seemingly melt like ice cream upon partaking in their beverages. She eyes her own cup, opening up to the idea of it. She nudges it closer, takes one whiff of it, ignores its aroma, and immediately sips it. The touch of god is instant. She doesn't know which one, nor does she care but she feels the fingers trace the outline of her skin. The tip was fire and lightning, electrifying and burning across her pale and shivering arm. She'd let out a moan if the sensation didn't leave her speechless. But her breaths became longer and longer with every slurp of the cup and each lick of her lips.Ruby looked at the other three in curiosity. They seemed to be enjoying their beverages, so why shouldn't she. She grabs her cup and pulls it close to her lips. The air is sweet and bitter from the coffee, she takes her first sip—and then she smiles contently, the blasphemous amount of sugar doing their work for her. The old man smiles back anyway. "Wow, that tastes so good," she exclaims."It was more than good," Blake exclaims, her body still tingling from the sensation, "it was heavenly." "Glad you liked it," his smile as sweet as her coffee."How'd you make it taste like that?" she asks and then the rest of the team leans forward, eager to hear him share."Yeah," Yang's eyes light up and she smirks from ear to ear with glee and excitement. "How did you do that?"The old man delights at their praise with rosy red cheeks and a humble smile as he answers them modestly, "It's in the practice, dearie. Me and my wife have been doing this for a long time.""Your wife?" Ruby springs into a question."Where is she?" Yang sits up straight to search for the man's wife, peeking over the kitchen to see if a lady has been preparing their beverages for them."Oh, she's resting in the bed room right now. She just rests a lot these days, so, I don't bother her much." He points behind him, to a shadowy corridor at the kitchen behind the counter. Yang couldn't quell her piqued interest and she tip toed a little in her seat to get a peek.It was a short but narrow corridor. There was an open room at the end, the faint silhouette of a footboard bed peeked out of the door, barely lit only by the age-old heart monitor beside it. But the longer she stared, the quieter the air around her became. Words flew by like fluttering butterflies.The old man talked, told stories. Blake listened, eyes locked in fascination. Ruby asked "You mean like the Four Maidens?" The old man retorted, "We have others, 'The Undying Lovers', 'The Hungry God', 'The sPidersz gould', 'Thhe tww wvz', 'Lccck—" his stories fade into obscurity as Yang fixates on the room. Upon the darkness, she makes out the foot of the man's wife. She hears a name from the others, she ignores it and it passes into the wind. The wife's complexion slowly comes to light, pale and thin, her leg is almost nothing but skin and bone. She hears another name, "Diane", and she thinks to herself that that must be Diane, resting upon that bed. But then she sees the blank eyes move in the shadows, staring.There was another, a lady in the corner. Just standing—and watching. She can make out her eyes but their color is obscure from the distance but Yang can feel them latch onto the bed, deathly still and just—watching. The seeping sunlight illuminates the inhuman paleness of her arms and Yang can feel this cold emanating from her, like the touch of night falling upon a forest. Unwelcoming, unforgiving, undeterred. A wave of tattoos runs along her arm, Yang can't see them clearly, but she can see the weight of the colors embedded upon her skin. On one hand, a deep blue mingling with the vibrant orange, coursing down her elbow unto her wrists like the sunset mixing with the raging sea. On the other, roses are wrapped around her hand and are linked to green vines running up her arm. But each image, every color is so vibrant—radiant beneath the thin sunlight as if freshly painted on a canvas, A Painted Lady.But then she turns her head and stares down the curious little dragon with piercing bright eyes and a wide, gaping smile."Yang!" Ruby called her attention, the little sister kneeling on her seat and waving her hand wildly at Yang's face."Wha—What is it?" she stutters, regaining her senses."Orfeo, here was just telling us about the stories and folklore here in Mistral," Blake gestures to the smiling old man."So basically, he's some guy that buries people he sees on the side?" asks Weiss with a deal of uncertainty in her understanding."More of an omen of death, one who is drawn to the dead and dying," Orfeo clarifies."Who's he talking about?" asks a clearly confused Yang."Lucky Jack," quickly whispers Ruby who wants to focus on the conversation."Who's that?""An old legend," answers Blake, "Lucky Jack was this crazy, drunk guy—kinda like Uncle Qrow but much more manipulative and he was a gambler and uh, what's the word?""Swindler," completes Blake."Uh-uh," agrees Yang."Yes!" agrees Ruby with a spring in her step, "So, like, his entire life he just scammed and conned people from their stuff. And one day, the goddess of death and memory, named—""Kalima," answers Blake again."Yep! Kalima, one day she came to his house and told him his time was up. So, like thinking quickly, he, um, um—""He requested to see the fabled butterfly form of the goddess as a last request. So, the proud goddess transformed into the legendary painted butterfly and fluttered around his home. But, with his house being a worn out and dusty building, Kalima was caught in one of the dangling cobwebs and suppressed from flying about.""She demanded freedom," said Orfeo, joining their conversation, "but Lucky Jack, the cunning fellow that he is, spawned an idea. He made a deal, in exchange for her freedom, the Queen of the dead must not come after him.""And she didn't like it at first, right?" attempts Weiss to which she got the affirmative nod of Orfeo, smiling as always."She was a proud one, as all gods are. So, she refused but Lucky Jack didn't relent either. He waited, outlived his own lifetime and just left the Painted Lady in the web. She screamed and kicked and threatened but the man ignored her.""And then what?" Yang surrenders her ears and attention, 'The Painted Lady' the name echoes throughout her being. The woman from earlier, her arms were painted and her smile—it was—"Hours turned to days, days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months, and all the while Lucky Jack lived more than he was welcome to. He drank, and gambled, and swindled, and lied, until the day someone wronged him.""What happened?" asked Ruby, her eyes delving deep into his words."He fought with the person and the fight was quickly in his favor but when he dealt the killing blow, a deep stab to the heart, his opponent did not die."The thought of death, never was a welcome sight for the team, though it was, and forever will be, gravely familiar."The man writhe in pain," continued Orfeo, "he screamed for days, blood gushed from his chest with every heartbeat but the wound did not heal, it did not stop hurting.""He captured death," exclaimed Blake."That he did, so death could not perform what she was made to do.""Woah," the spirit dissipates off Ruby's voice, even the towering sunlight is no longer blinding."That's not all, he also discovered that nothing else died. Cattle walked around headless, pigs could not be stopped from squealing with every cut that was made, even raw meat pulsed about as if they were still part of the bodies. Imagine the slaughterhouse, wailing caves of blood and guts. Ghastly. Soon the townsfolk were haunted by the deathly cries of animals and people hurting and dying. Horrifying time, I must say.""So what did Jack do?" asked Weiss."Well, he ran as fast as he could home and looked for Kalima, still in her web and he asked her what was happening. She told him that in her absence, there was none to guide the dead to the other side, and so, they were left in undeath.""Damn," the image is ghastly for Blake and Ruby but Yang started to lose interest in the story. She takes another peek into the room but now it's just a dimly lit space and the faint beep of the heart monitor."He begged and bargained with the goddess, that foolish Jack," continued Orfeo. "She told him that he has to free her for her to perform her duties but, in his fear, Jack remained stubborn and ask if the other gods can do anything.""Did they intervene?" asked Ruby."Did they care?" followed Yang."Sadly, no," the somber in his voice reminds them what they're dealing with and Orfeo is just met with blank stares and listening ears, "the only one that could have done something was Liadann, patron of lost souls but she only guides the lost and the forgotten—those without graves and kin to bury them.""So, he had to free him," solemnly says Yang.Orfeo lightly shakes his head and then he smirks, as if about to complete what she had said, "She made a deal with him.""A deal?" asks Weiss."She agreed to Jack's deal, she would not touch Jack's soul and he would free her from her shackles. And once he did, the dead died once more." He gave one wave, shaping stars in his palm. "And that's the story.""What?" exclaims a disappointed Ruby."That can't just be it," contends a clearly interested Weiss."Wait, but what about-," starts Blake."Did Jack become immortal?" completes Yang, her eyes widening with interest, "Did Kalima punish him for what he did to her? Did people go vegan after that?""Someone's excited, sis," smirks Ruby and Yang gives her this flustered and impatient pout."Well," Orfeo begins, in a solemn tone, "Kalima didn't punish him, but she didn't reward him either." He lays back, tired from the storytelling but eager to finish still. "Gods are tricky things after all.""She promised not to go after him, right? Wouldn't that mean he would've been immortal" asks Yang."She promised not to touch his soul, not his mortality.""Oh," Ruby exclaims as Blake stands up and starts collecting their empty cups and placing them on the counter and looks back softly, "So what happened?""Eventually, he did die and he waited for the next life, whether it be damnation or salvation. But because of their arrangement, Kalima did not come for his soul.""He was left in limbo," says Blake."How about the other one? Liadann was it?" Weiss inquires."Jack did approach the sister, Liadann, but she also turned him down.""Why?""She says that she could not claim him for he is still remembered by one more being in the world.""Who?" asks Yang."Kalima, in keeping her side of the bargain, she did not forget Jack and was therefore wary of him constantly. She also held a grudge against Jack, unwittingly imprisoning him in his limbo.""So he's doomed to wander the world for all eternity," says Blake."That sounds sad," laments Ruby."You might meet him perhaps once your travels," spiritedly expresses Orfeo.In an instant, the entire team is wide-eyed in disbelief. A ghost in the road is the last thing they expect to see, "What do you mean?" questions Yang, almost berating in tone towards the old man."It is said that after centuries of wandering, Jack grew envious of the aged and dying. He yearned for the burials and goodbyes the newly dead received in their final moments. And he resented how each one was visited by either Kalima or Liadann, and were guided onto the next life. Some tales even said that he kept trying to gather the goddesses' attention and tried to hitch a ride with the dead onto the next world but he has still failed to do so.""It just got sadder," says a nearly teary Ruby."What does he do, does he wait for them at the graves of people?" suggests Blake, ever the curious cat."It is believed that he did that at first, and then as time passes, he began burying the dead himself, hoping that it would attract either goddess.""Did he?""No, he didn't but it didn't stop him from trying.""Wow," Ruby lets out a sigh of relief, as if looming storm has passed.Weiss gives off a raised brow and a demeaning look, as if judging the titular character in the story, "Well, I think he would've at least deserved hell for what he did.""Whatever he deserved, all spirits deserved their rest," laments Blake, "wish he could his in time.""He will," answers Orfeo, "Once all the souls have been buried and laid to rest, The Gravedigger, as some called him, will find his.""Hmph," scoffs Yang, satisfied with the story as the sun starts to hit her eye and bright rays enter through the window. It has been some time since she found herself in this conversation and morning is rising up fast, "well, it looks like we got to go, still have a lot of packing to do."Ruby looks at her wrist, her fair skin glows with the absence of a watch and in a second, looks back up and nods, "You're right, sis. We still have to meet uncle Qrow.""Aw," sighs Blake, "was hoping to stay longer.""Maybe next time," Weiss pats her on the shoulder and she smiles and stands up."Thanks for the time, mister Orfeo," Ruby reaches in her pocket to pay their bill."Anytime you find yourself again in Mistral, little missy," Orfeo's smile is still as warm as earlier, and so was Ruby's. Yang walks out to the front door, ahead of the others.Before she can even grab the handle, it bursts open outwards and the blinding sunlight momentarily slows her down. A man about as tall as her in dark clothing walks past her in a flash, like a sudden shadow running from the sun. She doesn't pay him heed but she notices the quick details in his expression as he enters the cafe. The wide grin on his rough tan complexion, the tall and upright beanie over his thick wild hair, and his nearly amber eyes—his smiling amber eyes that light up as he passed by her. Still, she does her best to ignore it to the fullest. The rest of Team RWBY followed her swiftly outside."Well that was a nice breakfast, right Yang?" asks her ever delightful sister."Yeah, it was fun.""Well, hope we can do it again some other time," requests Blake with the subtlest expression she can muster."For now, even if I'm against it severely, we got to go," groans Weiss at the thought of revisiting the frozen tundra of her homeland."Yeah," agrees Yang as she presses on towards the quiet streets of Mistral, "Maybe some other time.""Back so soon?" Jaune remarks as the door creaks open slowly, the subtle morning breeze cooling awake his freshly woken self. But it isn't the only thing that's going to shake him into consciousness."Hellooooo, people!" Ruby doesn't spare her friends a moment of her caffeine and sugar infused excitement as she charges through the door in a cloud of roses and runs around the room in her merriment."You seem pretty ecstatic," Jaune backs up a little in order to avoid colliding with the rampaging Ruby."Is it the caffeine?" asks Ren, "Because Nora also acts like that when she gets a dose of coffee.""No, I don't," Nora pouts her redheaded self away from him but he just gives her a sarcastic look of confidence."It's the caffeine and the sugar," corrects a stern Yang as she calmly walks through."Sorry we're late," declares a confident and unapologetic Weiss, "it was a rather— weird morning," stains of regret and confusion fills her breath."I kinda enjoyed it," softly says Blake, her smile lighting up the room, "we should come back again sometime.""We really shouldn't.""We can try it out sometime with the others, maybe?""Agreed!" inserts a still rushing Ruby as she begins unleashing herself like a firecracker amongst the group.The laughter and horse playing echo throughout the halls. Ruby relentlessly teasing Jaune again for his bunny sweater and Blake convincing Ren and Nora to sample the café once more with her but Weiss blatantly disagrees with the Faunus' planning. As floorboards creak and arguments break out and a vigorous Ruby Rose slowly exhausts herself and crashes into the couch, Yang Xiao Long goes out into the veranda, the plains of Mistral glow below the high noon sun like gold nuggets at the bottom of clear rivers.The light warmly embraces her fair skin. The scent of the mountain forests is carried off by the subtle breeze. The song of the city echo upon the mountain it is perched on and yet everything is silent in Yang's mind as she looks down upon Oscar meditating on the veranda, his staff rests across his thighs as he breathes the fresh air in his serene state. "Miss Xiao Long, would you care to join me in my meditations?""Pass," a stare as cold as her voice barely fazes the stern former headmaster.So, he presses on with his smile, back turned and eyes still closed from the meditation but his mind is opened like a new book, "I trust you found your morning eventful?"But those words resonates stronger within her, the rising rage and fury dissipates into the wind and she speaks and thinks clearer. "You could say that," her answer still as uncertain as she is."How was your little reunion with your team?""It was fine," in the back of her mind, it was blurry. "We went to this café by the hills and had breakfast there.""Is that all?" he senses the distraught in her voice, like a faint scent of rain in the morning the day after. She can feel his smile pierce through the sunlight but she doesn't even flinch, "You seem—""Troubled?""Curious," he stands up and approaches her with a light welcoming smile, as how a teacher should. "I can sense that you want to ask me of something—" she looks up modestly in attention, "ask me something." His voice still light as a feather and warm as the blue sky."Alright," she takes a deep breath, airing out her lungs and mind of prejudices and biases. Clarity earns answers, and she approaches him with her game-face on. "We talked for a long time with the old café owner and he told us the local folklore of Mistral.""Go on," he nods attentively."He mentioned different gods—different from those that you told us," doubt racing wildly in her mind."I see," he looks down and generously lends his ear."Gods of deaths and memories, of the lost and forgotten, swindlers and gamblers," the words ripple in waves from her mouth. "And there was Lucky Jack, \ and a butterfly god, and, and—" The words leave her. Just as many did in her past—they leave her. "And—I don't know."Oscar raises his palm to quell her downpour of questions and steady her state, "They're called Diwas.""Diwas?" Yang asks with more questions coming into mind."All I know is that they're not gods, not people, they're—something else.""But Orfeo referred to them as gods and goddesses, he implied that people used to worship these—things before.""It is unclear who or what they are, many have speculated their origins but none have ever been sure.""We've been told about the two gods, maybe there's more?""No, I don't think so," he reassures her, a stream of relief courses through his being, hopeful and soothing. As much as possible, he wanted to avoid all contact with them, and for good reason. "I am not fond of meeting any in our journey.""Why? Will they try to stop us," she inquires curiously."No, I do agree that they have their parts in the natural order of things and not to mention that they have remained neutral throughout my quest," he warns her, if only describing them was simple, this conversation need not happen."Orfeo told us that some people used to pray to them in exchange for favors and stuff, maybe we could do that?" she persists blindly and it erupts a dark memory in the corners of Oscar and Ozpin's mind. The real reason they relent to this idea."It's called 'Soul-trading," the words go down roughly from his tongue like charred bits of meat. "That's how most followers bargain with the diwas. It isn't—recommended.""Soul-trading?" the image is vivid in her mind but she does not shy away from an explanation. "How would that work?" she asks weakly."The followers would summon their gods or goddesses, there are different ways to summon each one," the thought of summoning one turns his stomach inside out. "They request boons and favors from them, in exchange, the diwas name their price, and it can get higher than most can afford."Visibly terrified of the possibilities, Yang catches the words escaping her throat. "People's souls." Oscar nods."Then I have another question to ask," her tone grows serious, her eyes are stone cold."Very well, go ahead.""Do we have to worry about them?"He pauses to reassure himself, certain that they need not worry about them, there is the informant after all. "I've already assigned someone to stray our path away from them.""Assigned someone?" his words tap a nerve. "Another soldier?" she asks sarcastically."An Informant but if all goes well, we should be at Atlas smoothly, and then to Vacuo soon after.""I see," she agrees, it's more of like a surrender really. The point is moot but she isn't done yet, "And this guy, this informant, will we meet him?""If all goes well, you wouldn't have to."Horseplay is not scarce in the room as the two teams clash in their debates and debacles. Blake has found herself engaged in discourse with Ren over the accurate representation of the LGBTQ community in her Ninjas of love book and its reflection on the sociopolitical climate of Mistral. Jaune was trying to calm down Ruby's sugar rush earlier but now he's carrying her through the sugar crash, literally. And Nora challenged Weiss' Ice Warrior into a wrestling match. She's badly winning.If only days could stretch like the ocean horizons, like the endless blue skies, like the glimmering constellations of stars—they would play all the long days as if they were the last people on Remnant.But then there was a knock on the door.Slowly, the door creaks. Time stops for a moment and the entire group locks in attention. It opens, the soft sunset creeping into the room, the heavy stench of alcohol fills the air, and it doesn't take long for them to figure out who's waiting at the door. "Uncle Qrow!" yelps Ruby as she springs up from Jaune's arms. "Are you drunk again?" she points with a near vibrating arm, shivering from the sugar crash."What?" denial smirks in front of her, "No!" if you've been doing it long enough, you get good at it."Eeeep!" Blake shrieks as she jumps behind the couch, hiding from the sight."What's wrong?" asks Ren."Dog!" she screams, eyeing the little black critter beside Qrow who was tilting its head at the sight of the cowering cat Faunus, it seems to be just as interested at her."Did you just pick that stray dog off the street?" Jaune asks, wary of fleas and bacteria. But he doesn't voice out that concern."Started following me, I didn't mind," answers Qrow."Aww, it's so cute," giggles Ruby, touching its soft ears. "Look at those fluffy ears," it wiggles its head in delight, matching her rhythm."Careful, it's probably riddled with fleas," Qrow remarks as Ruby releases her caress and the dog puts down its ears in annoyance. ""That's rude, Uncle Qrow," scorns Ruby."Well, anyways, it's time to pack up. The trip to Argus is a long one and we need to get there before the enemy regroups," the urgency rampant in his voice.The group turns around to begin preparations. Weiss unsummoned her knight and it lets go of Nora's grip. Ren fixes his hair and proceeds to his room. Jaune pats Ruby, who still wants to play with the little black dog but sadly, she had to let it go, certain that she won't see it again.But Blake looks back as Qrow walks in and closes the door behind him. The dog itself was already a bother but something else eroded her being. She was unsure of what she saw. Perhaps it was the brew she drank in the cafe or the daylight fading behind the mountains or her own severe, gnawing dislike of dogs- but she swore that she saw it grin as they all walked away.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

"We have to lay low for a while," Qrow whispers to the group as the treads across the harsh wasteland of Atlas. The ship has run its last engine and is now stuck between the large, snow-drenched rocks nestled on the icy coast. The nose has completely sunk into the cold depths and its cockpit is overflooded as the team attempts to salvage what supply and equipment they can."Can't leave this here, though," orders Maria, tapping on hull with her cane. "You there, be a dear and push this further into the waters for me, will you?" pointing to Jaune and Ren who appear confused and daunted but Yang steps in forward, seeing eye-to-eye with the old Grim Reaper."She's right," she agrees while pressing upon cold steel. "Can't let the military find this, you see one of your ships not being piloted by Atlas personnel and it is not looking good." Her smile fades into a cringing and nervous grin as puts her weight in the push.Blake steps forward and leans beside Yang, pressing her shoulder hard on the steel, "Give us a hand here, will you?"Ren shrugs at Jaune before joining in but is first surpassed by Nora who rushes in to help the two, one shove from her almost immediately budges the ship from the rocks. "Push!" yells Yang, the strength of her back is challenged by the weight of Atlesian steel and the cold winds of the north. "Push!" the group moves as one hand, one voice grunting against the hundred-ton deadweight. Their feet dig deep upon soft snow, muscle weakening from the rising blizzard."Let me help," Weiss steps up and unsheathes Myrtenaster, the blade shines a faint glimmer under the gray, bird-less sky. The five of them pushed harder as she begins her dance, the blade held close to her chest. One foot forward, as she was taught, she spins, slow and humble. Her skirt gathers wind, it flows round and graceful, like a parasol twirling upon a maiden's shoulder. Then the blade takes the lead, the tip edges on bleak ground, marking her circle, beginning her dance. Runes glow around her, their beat begins low and somber. A humming melody tunes in to her rhythm, it caresses her skin and guides her body to the song of endless winters. She raises her blade high, all the runes that were spawned conjoin in the air behind her, and in the light of her grace, a portal opens and a massive, heavily armored arm reaches out from behind and pushes against the sunken ship."Woah!" Jaune ducks to evade the freezing armor but he's amazed to feel the steel grow lighter with the help of Weiss' summon."Nice one, Weiss!" cheers Yang as she tries to match the strength of the ice queen's knight."Oh, yeah, let's bring this thing down!" roars an already invigorated Nora as she rallies with the rest who dig their bootstraps deeper into the snow but bolstered up their back as they give the ship one last push.In one single heave, the ship finally sinks deep into the cold sea floor.Rejoicing and celebrating in the snow, albeit too early, is well-earned and well-deserved as give each other a pat on the back. Over the hill behind them, Oscar, Qrow, and Ruby gathered to scout as far as they could see. The proud walls of Mantle are visible on the hazy horizon if you look long enough, but it isn't something they reach within the day. And with the wind starting to pick up, a day is less than what they have. "You're right, we can't alert them to our presence, not with that armada flying over the city," Ruby tells her solemn uncle."Especially not after we very clearly received their attempts of contact," Maria makes her way behind them. Her small steps lightly dent the soft ground."Seems like they're prepared something—or someone," blatantly states a weary Qrow."But what? Or who?" Oscar asks heavily, the anxiety blots out his confidence in entering the city."I don't know," Qrow shakes his head. The sound of steel wings and jet engines roar in the distance. It does little to save his wavering spirit."I don't think that matters," answers Ruby, her sights fixate on the outskirts of Atlas. "As long as we can get in, then it'll be easier from then on."Maria smiles, this little rose is blooming gracefully, even this land of endless winters. "She's right, you know. We need to get a move on.""Agreed," nods Qrow, his niece does put a smile on his face. A small, warm ember after everything he has experienced so far. "I'll scout ahead," he crouches and transforms into the black crow and flying overhead."Right," Ruby sheathes her scythe, the excitement is wide across her face. Uncle Qrow, we're gonna need the guard count and wall's patrol routes."Qrow scoffs, "Don't worry kid, I've been doing this since you were still in your crib. I got this," his wings glide high upon cold winds. The faint silhouette of dizzying lights and thick city fog greet him in the skies, a soft grin comes to his face. Atlas, he thinks—Ironwood."I'll stake out the forest," Ruby declares with glee, "Maybe I can find a patrol or caravan that can get us in." Then she runs off into the distance, like a blink of red vanishing into the snow."Wait a minute—" Maria reaches for her but it's a fraction of a second too late as the cloud of roses dissipate into the air."Well, then," stammers Oscar."Well, then, indeed." Maria smirks and turns back around, slowly walking away."And what will you do?" Oscar slightly raises her voice."I'm going to meditate, all this planning and scheming is making me dizzy.""Oh," he realizes blankly. "Well, what could I do?" he asks ready to throw himself into the fray."Oh, I don't know, watch or something." Farther and farther she goes, the echoes are soft in the dry wind. "Or you can join me!" she yells in the distance. "Maybe we could smoke out that little man inside your head and knock some sense into him!" Oscar could do nothing as the little old crone wanders off into the snowy barrens. He could do nothing but find himself alone in the cold."Wait up!" he decides, hastily. "Wait up!" he yells as he runs after the stubborn legend.Ruby launches herself through snow and wind, the beds of roses scatter in her wake. The unforgiving cold is not enough to stop her red flurry fly closer and closer towards the mighty walls of Atlas.She begins to slow down, her cloud dissipates before she lands on a mound several hundred yards away from the walls. Guards patrol in the distance, their shadows roam its ramparts. She can't count them all, that's uncle Qrow's job. But she can see the city's line of defense. Silver watchtowers line the borders, at least 100 yards apart, not much room to move when—or if—they get near. Cannons are stationed behind the embrasures, no doubt ready to fire at a moment's notice. A rusty towering, iron-barred gate stands in the middle, from the distance she can't tell how battle-hardened it was but the battlements above looked heavily fortified, which means bad news. No way to storm in, no way to claw out."This is hard," she groans quietly to herself as she rests her back against the heavy snow. "We can't scale the walls 'cause they're swarming with guards," debating profusely, "we could sneak into the gate…somehow—nah, nah, nah, that won't work," dismissing ideas left and right. And then a winter rabbit passes by her. Her eyes fixate automatically, like a distracted child. It hops and sniffs and searches around the field, getting closer and closer to the wall. Little food is buried beneath the snow but it does not deter it from venturing closer to the wall. She peeks through the mound, the critter inches closer, it ears perk up, as if finding something near. But so did the cannons and artillery turn their aim towards it. The little thing hops a few more steps, certain it has sniffed out a bit of grass. Guards gather around the embrasures, their guns raised at it, crosshairs down. One. Two. Three more paces and the rabbit finally found the thin grass. Within a hop's reach, it jumps in glee and happily flies for it. And then they opened fire, bullets rained like hail, cannons thundered in the distance. A cloud of shrapnel and snow erupted on what was once the winter rabbit and all Ruby could see from where see was, was an empty crater."Eeeep!" she shrieks, hiding back behind the mound. "Even if we got closer, there's enough artillery there to blow us to pieces." The cloud of scenarios plague her mind, like a rotten sea with its polluted waters regurgitating her own trash back at her. If we try to fight our way through, we die. If we try to sneak our way in, we die. If we can even get close, we die. And if we don't do anything—we die. She looks back, the gate opens slowly, its iron bars retracting as a small troop comes out to investigate, each Atlesian soldier still aiming their guns high, each soldier still on their guard.She hides back, thinking in panic. Not the most pleasant sight, not the most pleasant thought. And then she hears the footprints coming nearer, Oh, no. She closes her eyes to calm herself down. The thought of the men closing in, the artillery-fire cutting off her escape. Perhaps she should leave now. Perhaps she should reach for her weapon. Perhaps—perhaps there is no way out. The thoughts ring like stray bells, what to do? What to do? What to do? What to do? What—"What are you doing, you dolt?" Weiss asks, crouched down to try and meet her eyes."Weiss!" she shrieking as she jumps back hard into the mound. "What are you doing here?!""I followed you, obviously," naturally condescending. "We were wondering where'd you four go.""Us four?" she asks, visibly confused."You, Qrow, Maria, and Oscar. You all just left."She pulls back, right brow raised, "Well, me and Qrow scouted on ahead, figuring out ways into Atlas," she gestures to the wall behind them."And what about Oscar and Maria?""That I don't know.""Well, they must have wandered off into who knows where but anyways—" she replies, remembering that Ruby still owes her an explanation. "What are you doing here anyways?"Ruby sighs, a breath of surrender, one that does not slip under Weiss' eye. "I was trying to find a way past the gate."Weiss looks over the mound, peeking over the snow and seeing the long, wide hulking slab of iron before them, "This gate?" Ruby nods, embarrassed it seems, definitely unsuccessful."It's haaard," she groans weakly."Well, of course it is. This is a supply gate.""A supply gate?""During the great war, Atlas forces were greatly stalled by guerilla warfare from Vale military," she begins her lecture, stoic and proud, while Ruby begins to listen, bored and uninterested."By fighting small scale skirmishes, the Vale military successfully attacked Atlas supply lines, cutting off rations and ammunition from the soldiers in the front line. After the war, Atlas established these fortified Supply Gates, or Supply Forts in case of foreign military campaigns, to reinforce their supply routes.""Okay….," she nods slowly and uncertainly. "Meaning?""Meaning there's no way to get in there unless you're a supply caravan. Even patrols don't even come through here, only time that they do is when the city is expecting a heavy and/or important shipment their way.""Oh," she sighs solemnly before looking back to the gate, the sun leaves her eyes and even Weiss saw it fade away. "Means we can't get through here, can we?""No. No, we can't," she agrees reluctantly. Joining her in sorrow, the snow is smooth and soft upon her dress. Ruby won't admit it, that fiery rose always was a proud one but pride cannot hide distress behind glinting eyes. Ruby sighs deeply once more, trying to exhale every wisp of doubt, every whisper of weakness plaguing her. "You okay, Ruby?""Guess we'll just have to go back," is her only reply. The ice queen tries to reach out to the little rose but before her fingers can touch tense shoulders, Ruby jumps up and stands firm, confident and headstrong, "Come on, not a moment to lose, her smile is proud and her eyes are still radiant."Ruby," Weiss whispers weakly, exhaustion whispers softly through her friend's breath."Come on," Ruby extends her hand, her palm is warm pressed against hers. They begin to walk back, uncertain and fruitless yet hopeful and still optimistic. No doubt, the journey back will be longer but with hands locked together under the faint sun, it'll be over in a heartbeat.Oscar finds himself chasing after the old crone scuttling through the snow. He can't at all fathom how those ancient legs can outrun him but they did not get far, settling beside a small bush at the base of this white wall of trees. "Wait up!" he calls for her which she notices without even looking back.Hairlocks white with the snow swing as she turns her head, "Ah, so you decided to join me?" She sits down and faces the forest before her, inviting Oscar to sit with her as she closes her eyes and begins to hum a small tone."Well, yeah," he sits by her side, before the hulking trees, slightly confused. "I mean Ruby and Qrow have their work laid out for them, so, I thought I'd join you and help in whatever you'll be doing—and um, what will you be doing?""Well, I'll be meditating here quietly, mind you," for a moment, she breaks off from her trance and addresses him politely, it was more of an instant than a moment."Alright…" he starts, "and then what?""And then I'll probably look for food around here. If I'm going to die in this wilderness, then may as well die a lot slower than I would like," she hears the raging storm in his voice but she does not care.But of course, he does. "That's it?!" he screams, withheld by her words. "You mean you're not gonna do anything?! What about Ruby, Qrow, Jaune?! What about our friends?!" she does not flinch. He stands, towering over her. "They said we won't last a day and, honestly, I'm already feeling the day pass by fast!""Yeah, I doubt we will.""What do you mean?" he pulls back, abated and shivering."I mean," her hands dig deep into the bush, searching for the fruit she can already taste in her lips, "in all my years of walking between Atlas and Mistral, I have never seen any army bring those gates down, let alone ten random huntsmen. We'll probably be dead by the end of the day. If the blizzard, doesn't get us, the Grimm might."His soul goes back down his throat, retreating to the darkest edges of his being. A Surrender, he thought, "That's it then, huh?" The veil of disbelief crawls upon his skin, surrender. The vortex of doubt and fear swirls beyond his control, surrender. Despair and delirium echo like swarming bats in the caverns of his mind, silencing the last vestiges of hope that faintly whisper to his sanity, surrender. "So, that's it, huh? There's no hope, no chance in hell that we're gonna make it.""Oh, don't flatter yourself, kid. I didn't say that exactly," the smile springs from Maria's face, lighting up like the first star after twilight. "I never said that. I'm sure we do have a chance in hell.""But how?! Everyone's thinking about how and we're just—""Oh, pish-posh. If you think too hard on something, you'll never get it done, that's what my pa used to say." The smirk of her face is a little less assuring than Oscar would hope."So, what'll we do now?""Why, pray, of course," she closes her eyes and faces the looming forest, hands rested on both knees and breathing steadily."Huh," stunned could not describe how he truly felt but the thought of discovering more of Maria's true nature does snap him out of his stupor, "never took you for the religious type," in an instant, he can feel his first smile of the day."It's not about religion, boy," she breaks off from her meditation for a moment, "It's about asking for safe passage. This land is not ours to tread.""What do you mean?" he asks, the smile dissipates from puzzlement."Take this for example," her hand reaches into the bush and in her palm was a small cluster of opal-colored berries, luscious and plump to the eye. They were smaller than plums but bigger and firmer than grapes, and they glowed a deep, space-like brilliance that bestowed the universe to the tip of his tongue. "It's a Bleedin' Berry. Folks 'round here love it but it makes for a messy snack. One bite will send its red juices all over your face, it'll look like you're bleeding from your mouth." It takes only a second for the fruit's starlight hue to bewitch Oscar. "Want one?"He nods profusely, nearly involuntarily. But when he reaches to accept her offer, she hides the bunch back into the bush. "Hey, what gives?""Not yet," she hushes quietly, slowly glancing back into the forest. "Look," steers his eyes into the thick forest.In the distance, a wall of eyes peeks like distant stars looking out from the shadows, lightly illuminating the forest's dark veil. Blinking. Curious. Guarded.Not a sweat drip down his cheek nor tear pulp from his eye as Oscar feels jagged glare of the forest cut deep upon his skin, like locusts swarming upon summer fields, gnawing and gnashing whatever their teeth can taste. And there was wild whispering among the trees, a rattling ringing among those ghostly stares, as if plotting. Every second ticks like an hour, every moment is snared by fear, and every breath they take is an inch closer to death."Relax, kid. They can't harm us," Maria mutters with a charming chuckle."What are they?" Oscar musters—with extreme courage."Spirits. Very old spirits. Our ancestors used to worship them like gods but as time passed, they were forgotten and most of them have faded into obscurity."Oscar turns to her slowly, still fazed by watchers before them, "How sure are you that they can't harm us?""There are ancient laws, that no one abides by anymore, they still hold together the fabric of this world." She speaks with great wisdom and grace, like an aged priestess preaching of traditions long dead, whispered only by the passing winds. "The spirits are territorial but they are made to be welcoming by the first gods.""The two brothers," Oscar remembers, calming himself a bit with every word."Though they can, they are not allowed to strike down any living thing without provocation, or else they'll succumb to madness and degrade into something dark, something we're all too familiar with."He stands still, the realization kicks him out of his fear but keeps him frozen still, "The Grimm."Maria nods, "Though, it doesn't stop many of them from giving in to temptation."They looked back for a moment and stood in silence. Oscar took his time in sitting down, caution must be exercised in facing ancient beings with unfathomable power. Or at least that's what he assumed, it's hard to tell when you're trying to keep yourself from shaking from fear. Maria still has her composure. As steady as stone before the watching spirits, her hands slowly reach for her large silver earrings. She clasps them tightly and presents them in front of her, "What are you doing?" Oscar whispers."A peace offering." She lightly pushes the earrings forward and then reaches into her pocket and pulls out an oddly familiar flask."Is that Qrow's-?""Yes," she quickly lays it by the earrings before gripping Oscar's hands tightly and closing her eyes, "Pray with me.""What?" he relents."Just pray, repeat what I say.""Uh-huh, okay." No time to disagree. Both of them close their eyes and bowed themselves humble and contrite before the awaiting spirits."Hail mothers on the north," she begins.Confused but listening, he follows, "Hail mothers of the north"Hail Mothers and Fathers of the NorthFierce and fervent and fearedHumble strangers we are, humble passersbyO, Mothers and Fathers of the NorthPlease accept this offering of wine and silverAs we ask for refuge and safe passageThere was silence, cold, deafening silence. The dread of eyes prey upon Maria and Oscar, a parliament of rooks, an unknown jury. Suddenly, the winds howl like wolves under the enchanting moon. Distant thunders spoke in furious voices, there was wailing and gnashing of teeth. Their names echoed around the forest, thrown around and ricocheting off aged trees and wintry soil.Oscar shudders, the fear rises, climbing on the edges of his spine. His hands cringe and shiver, wanting to crawl away, wanting to sprint to safety—wanting to free himself from whatever the hell is out there watching them right now. His knees begin to rise, one foot backward and his hand clenches hers hard as he starts pulling himself up.But then she pulls him back down."Don't!" she whispers."Let go, Maria. I don't want this!" he fights the clamping grip."Don't," she fights back, forcing him back to his knees. "Oscar, listen to me, just don't.""Why not?!" he shoves the words back at her in hysteria."Oscar, trust me," she repeats, almost begging."NO!" he stands up, "I'm not doing this. I don't know what you have gotten me into but I'm not having any of it.""Don't, you idiot. Don't open your eyes.""Screw you, Maria! I'm out""Oscar, I'm telling you, that is not a good idea!""And why's that?""Because that would be disrespectful," utters a man with a vibrant voice that sounded like angels in a choir. Sweet and melodic, as if spoken with a golden tongue, but definitely not by anyone they knew.Oscar falls back, his eyes wide open and scouring the area for who was with them, who was talking to them—and who was watching them. But there was no one there. No man, no woman. In fact, there was nothing there anymore. The mist has cleared and the wall of eyes is no more."What. The hell?" the words are nearly spat out from someone losing his mind."That was one of the spirits, one of the older ones, too."Oscar just stood there, shaken and trying to comprehend what just happened. "That…voice.""Yes," Maria stands up with him, putting one of her hands on his shoulder, "I believe that was the merchant spirit, the one traders and businessmen pray to for good fortune in their travels.""So, what does that mean?" he asks instantly, rushing for an answer. "Is that a good thing? Is he one of the good guys?"Maria chuckles and scoffs, not really a smart thing to ask. "He's the most violent and cruel spirit among all of them. What else can personify cruelty if not a god of greed and pride?"The air around him froze solid, the words cower back into the bottom of his throat."But you did get something right though," she completes herself."What?" he asks, hoping that no more bad news—or any news for that matter—brush by him.And Maria kneels down to pick up the glinting purple berry from the ground. There was no longer any earring or flask before her, only one large plump berry bunch similar to the one she showed Oscar earlier.She holds it out her hand and offers it to him with a smile, "This is a good thing."Oscar smiles softly, "Does that mean… you know?" Maria barely looks back at him when a fruit fell from the trees. It was small yet pudgy with a coarse skin as it rolls down his back. "Owww!" he groans, holding the sore bump on his head. "What was that?"And Maria lifts her hand with an ecstatic smirk on her face, pointing to the soft pinkish-red fruit on the ground. She walks over to pick it up and hands it over to Oscar, "Yes."The smile opens wide on his face and immediately bites down. Its skin is indeed a bit tough, it's like biting through meat. Yet, the flesh is incredibly soft and the juices are syrupy, tastes like candied cherries. He bites and chews and bites again, savoring every mouthful. The fruit itself is strange, never has he seen it before. Most likely native to Atlas. Nevertheless, Oscar delighted himself on the unknown fruit. Maria walks up to him, as charmingly happy as he was, "More good things, I see.""Yffrgh gauwdat reiyt," he says through mouthfuls. And then the two of them look back into the forest, and it rained. It rained fruits from all the trees, in the middle of winter. Berries, apples, pears, everything they can think of fell into the floor before them. Oscar's eyes lit up like stars and he charged forward, gathering what fruit he can, known and unknown.Maria laughs as Oscar skitters like a squirrel after the sudden forest bounty. Light footsteps in the snow, hands dig through mountains upon mountains of fruit. She sighs as she bows her head and sits by the bush once more. She picks up a couple of berries and begins eating them herself, Oscar isn't the only one that was starving. The first berry was tart, just as she remembered. But she immediately takes out a small cloth from her pocket and wipes her mouth thoroughly. After one pat, the cloth turns a thick crimson, not to her surprise. There was a reason it was called a bleedin' berry after all, its thick juices ooze so much that each bite would douse someone red. Still, it tastes like the first time she had it. But before she can enjoy another bite, for a little less than a moment, the footsteps in the snow stopped and Oscar suddenly screams his lungs out into the high heavens.Maria ran, sprinting towards the boy's voice. The snow gets deeper with every step, the air grows colder with every breath. The trees seem to whisper and grin at her as she runs blindly through the dense forest. It feels like an eternity spent in chaos until finally, he finds Oscar at the edge of the forest, visibly shaking from what is before him.He looks at her and points behind him, the grueling sight nearly bringing him down to his knees. She walks over, slowly catching a glimpse of what sends the boy on the verge of tears. The winds wail in unison, scattering snow into the trees. A symphony of frost and sorrow. There were whispers in delight, it was a fair exchange. She asks for passage and they grant her one. And when she finally catches that glimpse, her heart is mercilessly drawn and quartered.She walks past him, each step an attempt to compose herself. Oscar fixates his gaze on her, trying to steel himself with every word, his arm shaking violently as he points forward, "I-I-I-Iss-Is this a good t-t-th-thing?" he musters weakly."Yes," she whispers carefully with one thought in mind, "yes, it is."Qrow flew high into the clouds, it was warmer there and the sunlight basked him with a reminiscing warmth that he had not felt since he was young. He flew over the guards and over the walls, he already knew how many were patrolling that side of the city. He already knew their patrol schedules, defense protocols, inspection procedures. Anything and everything there is to know, he already knew.So, he flew high, past the skyscrapers and sky machines. The hustle-and-bustle in the city is deafening but at least the air is clear. Atlas does pride itself in its discipline. He sees the ground quite easily. Snowy suburban areas that house the kingdom's workers, simple and affordable. The boulevards running through the city are illuminated by neon lights designed to be visible throughout snowstorms, can't say if they work though. The side roads connected to them are too narrow however, and have been known as the main cause of the constant city-wide traffic, primarily because majority of the city residents live the small single-room apartments that outline them, not the most pleasant of living spaces but it works for most, specially the younger workers. Perhaps the most fascinating about a cold kingdom like Atlas is their maintenance of their Parks and cemeteries which stay green even throughout the winter. These are sheltered within large glass domes to shield them from the cold and expose them to the sunlight. Thermal plates outline the base of these domes with some points containing a heating shed that houses special radiators that keep the inside warm and life-sustaining.Qrow begins to eye some of them, he hovers lower to see them clearer. Not much people today, perhaps the day has gone too cold. Swooping down through the small entrance pod, he flies past the few parkgoers and sneaks into a small bush by a small stream. The shift was quick and he scans the area almost immediately, and almost immediately he sees Devin Jackal sitting by the bench on the opposite side of the stream, waving at him as if he just saw his Tinder date.So, he did what he always do, groan at the sight of the little jackal before he walked up and sat beside him. "You secured the place?" he asks despondently."As secured as the state penitentiary," he grins proudly, knowing full well that the Atlas state penitentiary had suffered three break-outs in the past eight years. "You should be meeting with the heiress' butler at the end of the day.""Alright," Qrow nods his head, no other choice but to understand. "Any idea how to get in?" He reaches for his flask from his back pocket but it wasn't there.Devin reaches for his pack and squeezes a stick between lips, "Already fixed you a trip," he winces as snaps his fingers. They lit up like a faint lighter, the tiny flame is brilliant at the tip of his thumb, "A caravan should be coming in late in the afternoon, their head is an old mate of mine. Owes me for some trouble a while back, told him to give you and your lot a ride into the city.""Huh," he nods, somehow relieved, "nice work," the compliment tastes weird, a horrid cocktail mix."Thanks," he sits there proudly, warm against the afternoon sun. "Here take this," he hands Qrow a pouch full of fake IDs and passports. All of them bore the sigil of Vacuo, all of them listed with different districts, and all of them used old and blurry photos, the kind that looks-like-them enough without asking for a more thorough look in the checkpoint."Thanks," his name was Sucki Marbles on his card and he came from the Southern Barrens district. He just sighs before putting it in his pocket and as he looks back at the grinning jackal, he also has something to say, "Neat trick, too by the way." He points to the blackened thumb of Devin Jackal."Just learned it this morning, after months of practicing.""So, you can control fire now?""Nope, I can just light my fingers on fire," another snap and the flame floats upon his nail. It dances as he turns his hand like a candle teased by a subtle wind. And then he snuffs it out with a clench of his fist and grins at Qrow once more."Right, I'm off then," he stands up, pockets the flask once more, and fixes his worn-down attire. A glint in his eye shows a bit of pride for the little jackal, perhaps more pride than he'd like to show. "By the way, how's the family?" his voice grew cold and his words were cherry-picked with extreme precision.Devin scoffs but he turns his gaze away, staring into the blurred horizon beyond the dome. The bravado fades like smoke against the winter winds but his smirk stays the same. "They have your scent.""How long do we have?" he stops in his tracks."I'd say a week—maybe half.""Do they already know where we are?" voice trembling and words slurring, he tightens his grip on his blade, war is coming closer than he thinks."Worse, they know where you're going to next." He smiles, all he can do is smile.Qrow is breathless, panicking is an understatement, "You think they'd come after us? Even now when we're behind Atlas?""They won't," his eyes rest uneasily. "But they're more patient than you realize."Qrow scratches his chin in frustration as he ponders restlessly, "They'll wait us out and pick us off once we leave the kingdom.""That," he lets out a quick sigh, "or they'll smoke you out of the city."His head snaps to face him, "They wouldn't dare, would they? The military's been mobilized, the entire kingdom's on high alert, I mean—have you looked up recently?!" raising voice at an alarming rate, singing a song of despair.He just smiles, "Well, best of luck to you lot. I'm off, gonna scout the place I've prepped ahead."Qrow doesn't know what to think, what to expect, what to fear. He stands there, tall and afraid. Hopeless in the morning sun. He wants to reach for the flash, his fingers are shaking for the flask. But at the corner of his eye, the black silhouette turns around to show Devin's sly, subtle smile judging him one more time."Cheer up, you'll find a way," he says whole-heartedly."You sound so sure of yourself," he rebuts."'Course, I am. I know you're not that unlucky," he begins walking back, the smile still clean on his face."Oh yeah? How do you know?""You got me," one last look before the ebony clothes fade into the thick green park.Qrow scoffs from under his breath, the smile also cracking up in his face. A laugh sneaks out his breath, he can't stop himself from that small chuckle and just hides his what he can under his chin."Prick," he says in parenthesis.A lovely hue of sunlight peeks through the wintry clouds and basks Blake and Yang with its somber warmth. The snow is softer with every step, Blake holds her long white coat tighter, the chill is starting to get to her and her clothes just don't fit the destination. Yang takes off her own tan jacket and offers it to her. She refuses at first, her long black hair is shivering against the wind. But Yang is naturally persistent, or rather, stubborn, and huddles it unto her shoulders and she holds it as tight as a mother's embrace. "You didn't have to, but thanks," the smile on her face is subtle and blushing."Any time, Blake," Yang's tone is soft and amiable, like summer warmth but as she smiles back, she glances over the small cut by Blake's abdomen and quickly shies her eyes away. A wave of words holds up at her throat, refusing to be said."What's wrong?" the cat's quick to pick up the scent.Only a few seconds bridge the gap between clarity and regret. If only the stars are in her favor today. She mutters the weakest, "I'm sorry," as she runs past Blake, reaching several yards away. But even when she was quick, the concerned Faunus quickly matched her pace and caught her by the arm."Hey," she pulls Yang to face her and her hands rest upon the little dragon's shoulder ever so softly, her firm grip tries to gently calm down her shaking friend. "What's wrong?" she asks but is only met with a bowed head and an unsure voice. "You can tell me, it's okay."Yang finally raises her gaze but the weight still latches itself upon her heart, "I know it's just—" the words stop, like a pipe that has just been clogged shut.Blake smiles and then buries her head upon her chest, the soft, raven-black hair is warm against her bosom and it cracks a slight smile, "It's okay, you can trust me," the little Faunus replies."It's just that I did it—we did it. I know we did it, so I should be feeling better. Why am I not better?""Hey, that's okay" Blake's assurance warms the air between them, making it easier to stomach the lingering musk of doubt. She calmly pulls her down to sit on the snow with her."It all happened so fast, it's still happening so fast," she beckons, "first, I see you again after nearly a year, then I met mom—MY mom, Blake— and then she was gone, again, just like that," tears drip slowly from her eyes, her golden hair is soft on the shoulder."It's alright, Yang," though warm hands caress her brilliant hair, it does not stop Yang's inevitable weeping."I just want it to end, I just want it to be over," she beckons, her left hand visibly and violently shaking, as if succumbing to the cold. But its echo reverberates through her entire being, like dissonance in a failed orchestra. It clamors and claws for harmony but it only forms into a symphony of things she wants to forget.Without a second thought, she holds her tighter. But she stiffens, almost petrified in her arms. Blake tries to meet her shivering eyes. She lets go of her grip on Yang's gold-tinted shoulders and slowly locks fingers with her shaking hand. The little dragon's anxiety resonates through her pale skin. Her concern is beginning to submerge her in dark waters, "It's okay," she repeats, almost automatically."Is it really going to be okay?" she asks with great resistance.Blake is held aback by her words, unsettled but still pushing through, "It will be," she says weakly, "it is going to get better. I promise."But the words seemed to pass through her, like ghosts through rotting hallways. It begins with unsettled thoughts, the day replays in her head. The war, the battle—the loss. The scent of smoke is heavy in the air, mercilessly clouding her judgement. The blade was cold, swords ring in the distance. Blake is wounded by the abdomen, Yang's eyes were red with fury. Gunfire plays its fast, hard-edged melody, cursing and culling all in its wake. The blade was cold. The masses scatter, the Grimm chase after them. There was shattered glass upon a familiar dining hall, tables burned in the night, the blade was cold and it graced her with piercing speed. The memory is faint but the screams are clear. The red fiery hair, bloodstained jackets, the smile under fallen heroes. Her fists burn with rage and her arm is seared to the bone. The blade was cold."Adam…", she shudders like a babe in the wintry night, whispering only that name—that god-forsaken name—through the cold air.She cradles her cowering friend, through thick and thin she'll stand by her. "It's all over now, Yang," she tries to assure her, tries to remind her that that bastard is floating now on an ice-cold river with two steel shards sticking out of his heart. "He's not gonna bother us anymore.""I still hear his voice, I hear him calling out to me." Her pupils dilating rapidly as she further buries her head on Blake's bosom.She laments how to help her broken friend. "You know," she begins, the words seem to fade in like a distant memory, "I'm sorry."And she is held aback by it, she sits up and looks the black-haired Faunus straight in the eye, "What do you mean?"Blake scoffs and smiles a bit, she remembers the day all too well. "I remember saying that I was going to believe you, I wanted to believe you." She trusts her, that's all she has to remember, she trusts Yang. "As if saying I had a reason not to.""Blake…""And I'm sorry for doubting you," a tear rolls down her eye. Gentle fingers respond with a soft caress across her silky skin, catching it in their yearning."I'm sorry that I compared you to him," she mutters weakly."To who?" she asks, puzzled and still tired. "To Adam?" her voice breaks in her haste. Hoping—praying—that she was wrong."No. No, not him," her prayers felt answered. "I never compared you to Adam, it was to someone else," she lets out a hesitant chuckle."Who?""His name's Devin," her gaze sets off into the distance, looking for stars long dead in the endless white horizon, "Devin Jackal." Her smile is pinkish sweet."He was a hothead, like you. Brash and bold and loud," eyes lighting up like the faint rise of dawn. "Always the first one at the picket line, always the first one to be cuffed. I remember one time he charged on into the riot shields, White Fang banner in hand, and stood on top of two cops' shoulders," she laughs softly, "then he waved the flag over the police line screaming, 'We bleed the same! We bleed the same!' over and over again." Her voice is gentle like the summer wind."Oh," she realizes, "who's that?" she asks curiously.She continues down the long road of memory lane, "You know how when you look at someone, you immediately think that 'this person is the embodiment of this word?" she gazes back longingly."What do you mean?""Like, you look at someone and it's just, they personify this word perfectly. Like Ruby is Purity, Weiss is Defiance, and yours was Strength," the word slides perfectly out her tongue."And how about him? What did you think of him?" Yang asks warily, as if bracing for the answer."A lot of things, honestly," and they came, words that she thought were buried in shallow graves resurfaced in the hundreds. "Mending or Torn. Loyal or Lost. Malleable or Bent. Warm or Burning, I just can never find the right word to describe him." They sprouted like thick, ferny weeds and blanketed her mind with blurred flashbacks. "It isn't that he is some jack-of-all-trades kind of guy, it's just it feels like he's the type of guy who you'll never truly know.""Where'd you guys meet?" the tiniest ring of jealousy resonates within her. "White Fang," Blake answers, reminiscing of unmissed glories. "I mean we met in the White Fang. He wasn't White Fang per se, but his family was affiliated with us—excuse me—his Clan.""Clan?" the question, the memory unearths ancient fears. Still, the brave girl proceeded."They're like—a family," she still proceeds, reluctant and unsound, "a nomadic one that live outside the kingdoms. Although, they're dangerous.""I see.""Anyways," she suddenly remembered, "Devin's his name by the way.""The guy you're telling me about?""Yep," her face illuminates for a moment, like a faint candle in a dark room. "you remind me of him so much.""Looks like you do miss him," she tries to meet Blake's sad eyes but they shy away.She would have looked back. She would have said something. She would even have smiled, even for a bit. But she can still hear the ring of his gunfire. Police sirens in the cold summer night. Another accident is on the news, just another accident—nothing more, nothing less. Another bar ruined, another store trashed. Then there was a shift in the wind, a stutter in his voice. He started to see what everyone did. Eyes that once burned aflame were now fading embers in the ashes. He came home, warped and disillusioned. He brought forth arguments, shouting matches in the woods. Words were said, words that cannot be forgetten. Words that divided brothers, words that exiled a lonely jackal, words became orders, orders that pitted him against friends. First, they chased, then they fought. In the forests, in the mountains, by the soft green coast of Mistral. Then there was digging and mourning. Half-assed burial rites, shallow, and unnamed graves. Then the wolves came in pursuit of his scent, through the shadows of the forest the lonely jackal once called home. War cries echoed in the night and in the distance, war drums. They brought him before the high chief. He was hated and tried. His judgement was swift, his execution was swifter. There was no mercy given, no sympathy, no tears but hers echoed through that night. Hooks pierced through skin, but he kept his mouth shut. The hammer was thick iron, it broke through bone and muscle, but he kept his mouth shut. The dagger cut deep through the spine, his ribs were pulled back one by one—but he still kept his mouth shut. She can never forget what she heard that night. A haunting melody whose beats were heavy and slow. Uneven as it pressed against the winds.The sound of his wings."Blake!" Yang shook her still friend who fixated her trembling eyes into the snow."Yang?" disoriented and scouring the midday light, she stares back into those lavender eyes to find the peace she denied herself of, "What happened?""I just asked you something and then you doze off for a solid ten minutes," she replied."Oh," her voice is weary but she pushes through."Are you okay?""Yeah, I'm fine.""What happened?" she asks almost immediately."I—I don't know. Everything just suddenly, poured on me," everything felt like a crashing tsunami, drowning her in its depths."I see," The sting of jealousy suddenly gnaws at her, the words repeat in her head and she can taste the bitterness of their skins."Anyways," she shrugs the feeling of dread off, like it was snow on her shoulders. "What were you gonna ask me?"Yang pauses for a moment, the question—her question—dangles by a thread on her mind but in the end, she had to decide, "Never mind," she smiles before turning away.But then she hears feet being dragged through the snow. In the distance, Jaune Arc has been trudging in the open field. Struggling to push through the snowbanks, he keeps glancing over at the two and waving his arm in their direction. "Jaune?!" screams Yang as she stands up to get a better view. "What is it?" she yells again but it seems to be in vain as Jaune did not respond. He's too far to hear but not far enough to gesture at them, as if asking them to come with him."He can't hear you," Blake stands up to try and meet Yang's dodging eyes but she just nudges her and begins walking."What's going on?" Blake asks Jaune instantly as soon as they got nearer."We found something, by the forest Maria went to," he tries to elaborate. "It—" the horror setsin, "it's ugly.""How ugly?" asks Yang, stern and undaunted as always."It's better to see for yourself."The musk of blood is heavy in the air, like a faint metallic scent dancing with the howling wind. The snow is spattered red as Qrow scours through each body, looking for clothes that are still intact, trinkets or brooches unshattered by the battle, anything for them to wear and blend in with before they pass through the supply gate of Atlas. But all the bodies were nearly carved open, arms and legs disjointed from their sockets by raging steel, the woodens of the caravan were ravaged empty save for a few worn down crates, there was signs of resistance, no struggle that occurred—no chance for any of them to have survived."My god," Yang stares at the scene with eyes almost forced wide, hands slightly trembling for a moment but she stills them as quickly as she can. But not quick enough to avoid Ruby's attention, she and Weiss just arrived, tired from the scouting and now shaken by the slaughter."Wh-what happened here?" Ruby asks in a horrified tone."We don't know," Jaune laments as he joins the rest of his team, Ren and Nora were already searching the wagons when they came back. Not much to be found, nearly every one has been raided for supplies, clothing, medicine, food—all emptied.Blake, who is equally petrified as Yang, sees the pyre and feels the surge of memories rise once more. "Oh no," she mutters in a rattled tone."Blake?" Yang calls to her but she runs away into the white field.As she was about to move after her, she hears Qrow call to her, "Yang, Ruby, lend me a hand here.""Go," Weiss holds her arm, "I got Blake, Go." Her eyes are stern yet warm as she assures her that the Ice queen has this under her control.They nod at each other and Weiss went on ahead as Yang took Ruby to Qrow.By the forest, they saw Oscar huddled by a towering grey pine tree. Shivering like a dog in the cold, warmed and accompanied only by Maria who softly caresses his frightened state. "It's alright, kid. Hang in there," her words are pleasant whispers through the cruel walls of reality.Yang walks by with Ruby, the two of them stand uncertain before Qrow, Maria, and a horribly shaken Oscar. "What happened to him?" she asks, afraid to know the answer."Kid found the site, he didn't take it well," replies Maria as she pats him gently."It wasn't a pretty sight and earlier it wasn't as pretty as it is now," groans Qrow as he puts another body into the pile."Poor Oscar," Ruby rushes in to embrace him. For a moment, everything was warm. He feels her gentle arms softly caress the shivering skin of his neck. Everything was still for a moment, everything was fine. But then she feels Oscar's fear crawl up her skin. Like moss creeping up gravestones.She hesitates to hold on, fingers freeze to the tips. The urge to help her small friend shake off the raging waves of fear is screaming violently in her head but she knows better than to heed its call for fear is a paralyzing, mind-numbing virus that will pin her down the moment it seeps under her skin. So, she backs off, albeit reluctantly. She goes away, inching slowly towards Qrow and Yang, and just lets Maria comfort the grieving boy."What happened here, Uncle Qrow?" Ruby asks with desperate eyes, anxiously looking for answers, trying to read between the lines."I'd say a battle but it's more of a slaughter," he mutters breathlessly, hope draining with every second he looks at the all too familiar sight. He brushes off the red-spotted snow from a wooden's bonnet, revealing the crest embedded into its cloth, a blue winged-flame."They're Mistral," Ruby says through frightened lips, the epiphany is burning to the soul."Absolutely no survivors?" Ruby looks at Qrow who only gives her a silent head shake."Not just Mistral," Ren approaches them, holding a worn-down flag with a star-like flower crown crested on its fabric. Ruby recognizes the crest, in her horror, as did Ren who, at the moment, remembered the weight of the village in his hands."Survivors from Shion," mutters Qrow, who is clamoring for a way to explain this to Devin later. He looks over the horizon, feeling the eyes lurking from the cliffs."Must have been looking for refuge in Atlas after the whole ordeal," enters Maria. She has since left Oscar, who looks a bit better, now calmed down to a quiet huddle."Looks like it," surmised Jaune."These mountains are probably filled with Grimm or bandits," Yang walks up, the brisk wind brushes up against her. In the distance, dusted by the snow was a small, golden round metal plate. She comes to pick it up and realizes that it was an insignia but she does not recognize its crest. A dark golden wolf devouring a radiant sun."They never stood a chance," laments Ren, he feels Ruby's warm hands by his shoulders, followed by Nora's soft embrace.Her fingers run across the still sharp teeth, fiddling with their jagged edges with her thumb. "Grimm, bandits, or otherwise, we can't just leave them here," protests a sympathetic Ruby and Yang instantly glances at her."That's why we're throwing them into the pile," Qrow responds despondently."There has to be a better way than that," protests Ruby."Can't let anyone find these.""What do you mean?" joins Jaune."Because we'll be using what remains to get into Atlas," corrects Maria, who begins approaching one of the wagons, "got to get rid of evidence, can't have Atlas thinking we just robbed one of their caravans.""THAT'S BECAUSE WE ARE ABOUT TO ROB ONE OF THEIR CARAVANS," screams Ruby to the top of her lungs.There is a long, deafening silence. The kind that you hear after the doctor tells you that you have stage "I'm in," agrees Yang, earning the glare of the rest of Team RWBY and JNPR. Walking forward into one of the wagons, she tugs on the bonnet and inspects thoroughly for any holes around the cart. Its wood is still damp but still wholly intact for the most part. "This one still looks operational," she declares.Qrow follows behind, "This'll do," he takes another look and nods affirmatively. Still, there were few dents here and there that did not escape the corner of his eye but he is still on board. "This'll need a few repairs but have finish these before dark.""Uncle Qrow?!" protests Ruby again, louder this time."I'm in, too," steps up Nora, leaving Ren and the others with jaws wide open. "I could salvage some supplies from the other wagons."Fetch me another wheel, this one won't make it to the gates," Qrow orders and Nora follows, swiftly inspecting each wagon for another suitable wheel. Didn't take long, only about three or four before she pried one off a badly damaged wooden. She and Qrow began working immediately.Yang follows Maria behind one, the inside is spacious and roomy. "Should be enough for all of us," she commented. "I don't see any harnesses, how do these things even move?""We'll be taking shifts to draw the wagon to the gates, we'll start with you and the redhead. Can you do that?" she answers properly."Whatever gets us to Atlas," she shrugs, content to help, content with following orders. She goes up front and weighs down the wagon, picturing how heavy it would be to carry eight to ten people on a damaged wooden cart."Yang," her sister's faint voice whispers from the side. "You can't be seriously going through with this?""We have to, Ruby," cold eyes distance themselves from glinting stars, "or else we won't survive.""It feels wrong.""It doesn't have to feel right," her voice is rigid like the surrounding ice as she walks away from her sister and begins to join the rest of the team.Weiss comes back with Blake, the little faunus grips her left arm tightly and tilts her head in an uneasy look. But nevertheless, she goes into the wagon in her zombie-like state. Haunting memories whirl relentlessly in her head. Weiss follows, sharing her friend's sentiments but not entirely knowing what they are.Ren picked up Oscar who has vomited out his fair share of trauma by then. Though still weak, he carries himself forward. The hunger has passed him, he climbs into the wagon a hollow mess of things.Qrow puts in the final touches on the wheel. The hub glistens a crystal silver and the rims fair decently well on the heavy snow. He nods, approving of the repairs and pats Nora for a job well done. She gives her a thumbs up and a sharp smile as she goes to the front to join Yang for the first round of travel.Ruby gets into the wagon, reluctantly and regretfully. She can feel the claws of the dead seep through the damp floorboards and brush repeatedly against her legs like ghosts riding in the wind as she squeezes herself in the far corner near the driver's seat. She sits and wallows and sits and wallows.Yang stands at the front, waiting for Nora. The sun sinks softly in the distance, winds begin to pick up. She waits there, wondering and pondering about everything that she had witnessed today. Blake's past, the murdered caravan, the gold insignia, her sister's disapproval. The plate is malleable once more in her hand. Her fingers run through its blood-stained dents, feeling the fangs on her thumb, bladed teeth of wolves and a dying sun being devoured. She hesitates at a thought and puts the damned thing in her pocket.Footsteps approach to her left. The song in her head dies out in an instant and she doesn't even look to her side before grabbing onto the front hound, "Ready, Nora?""I don't think she is quite ready yet," answers Maria with a smile."Oh, it's you," she turns to face the old crone who seems to want to stall their travel a bit more."What's you got there, dearie?""What?" she asks abrasively."That little golden plate you slumped into your pocket," pointing at her side, smirking all the way. "I've seen you fidgeting with it, might I take a look at it?"Her tone is pretentious and entrapping, but she knows that neither of them has time to argue. She reaches into her pocket and draws out the insignia, placing it on Maria's palm. The old crone holds it on her fingers and inspects it with a bird's eye. The sun is new, that she does not recognize but she sees the wolf devouring it and confirms what she already knew from the start."Do you know who that belongs to?" impatiently asks Yang."I do," she scoffs with a sharp smile, "and with any luck, you won't need to."She gives it back to Yang and heads back to hop in, Nora walks by and joins her by the harnesses. She lifts one side and Nora has the other and they went on their way.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Crystal waters carried Adam Taurus through wherever the cold wind blows. In the pines, he can barely hear the crashing currents as he sinks deeper into the river's grey depths, which were more than welcoming. But bleeding in the black and bleak bottom slowly drove him to unconsciousness.In his final moments, you'd think that he'd be thinking about the woman who stabbed him in the back, or the organization that left him alone when he was broken, or the cause he has failed to fight for and the Faunus folk he has left unliberated.No, all he's thinking about is that distant singing. It is faint and garbled beneath the depths. Had he not been too busy dying, he would never have noticed it. Still, he could trace its tiniest trickles muffled by the current. It was light and airy, almost angelic. Like choir music resonating through stained glass and holy halls. Entrancing even in death.He sinks deeper, where the sun can never shine through. His senses slowly slip away. As he bleeds, he numbs. At first, the cold gnawed at his skin and pierced through bone, but then it gets emptier and emptier as his blood mingles with water, like sugar dissolving in a stirred glass. Memories fade like ashes in the wind, her black hair, her golden locks, her fiery arms, her swift blade, they all fade."Ehhhy, ihz tzhah ehm?" the question sounds farther away.His lungs begin to dry out of air and fill with water. The creeping cold begins to grasp tightly on his skin, like weeds digging their roots deep in a pale garden. He cannot feel the water around him any longer, as if he is drifting endlessly in time and space."Hhhonn't hhluk layk ehm," answers another figure. A tall shadow blocks the little sunlight shining down upon him. "Ngoll, dha tseef."He turns in the depths involuntarily, not like he can tell up from down anymore. The blade stuck in his heart is numb to its steel. It begins to feel like a part of himself, like bone sticking out the wrong way. But the currents remind him as currents always do. Putting pressure onto the blade in their crashing and thrashing, there is a blade in his heart, once fragmented but is now forged in between his arteries. Its jagged steel bite through the faint beat.Then he begins to rise. He feels it, the currents getting softer, no longer pulling him down. The sun starts to shine brighter as he nears the surface. It was then that he realized that he was emerging at an increasing speed. The ripples around him thrashed wildly and then he felt, through some small tingle, the large hands gripping tightly on his coat, and Jin Jackal's tough, hide-like fingers dragged him up from the waters and into the dying daylight."This is no place to die," he lays gently Adam onto the mounds of snow. Examining the black blades on his chest, they were embedded deeply, would not be wise to remove, or else all his blood will pour like a waterfall. "MEDIC! I need a medic here!" he commands his troops who rushes to the back of their ranks.His tough fingers become gentle as he caresses Adam's cheeks, "Hold on there, Adam," a voice as breathless as Adam speaks through the blistering chill. "All your angels haven't stopped singing yet."Adam begins to drift into darkness, the cold light is blinding but Jin's grip tightens on his arms and he howls his concern to the dying bull, "The White Fang is scattered but they are loyal, they will always be loyal," Adam's eyes close slowly but he just shakes him into what little consciousness he can muster."Their anger burns no less than the first time answered your call," he pulls him up and looks into the fading eyes of Adam Taurus. "Don't you die on me, yet, boy. MEDIC!" he yells and the people pick up their pace."Some have rejoined the weak-willed Ghira in Menagerie and have confided themselves in the cages of that island. Some have returned back to the human kingdoms, burrowing into their holes and lived out the rest of their lives a slave to the humans as they were before," the grey clouds approach, the sun begins to hide."But some are still out there, broken and hiding and confused, just as you are. Yet, they are still loyal. Still angry— and still free. They await only your call," he whispers, "will you call them, boy?" he whispers.But Adam only let out a gasp of air from his cold lips. The wisps fade fast into the frost, as if his spirit has just left his bodyThe medics arrive and they take him out of Jin's hands. Nervous hands stiffen as they carry Adam into the litter. Slow and steady, they lifted him and rush to the infirmary, leaving Jin in the snow, brows furled and thinking."Was that the legendary Raging Bull of Forever Fall?" sarcastically remarks Ember Khayyam from behind, the smirk cuts all the way to her ear."Yes, unfortunately, he is," replies Jin solemnly.She scoffs as they carried him away. She found it disgusting to see how fragile and dead he was, and they don't need the fragile and dead in their ranks. "Are you sure we still need him?" she asks."The White Fang is scattered," he speaks with a deep yet sincere tone, "we need someone to rally them.""Why?" she asks doubtfully, trying to fathom something she already thought was beyond hope."Their numbers will still be of use," he growls at her, quietly. "Every soldier counts in war"Yes, but why them? Why him?" she questions with great disdain."Because they know him, they want him, and they need him," he speaks boldly, his golden-lined armor glistening in the fading wintry sunlight. "The weak and oppressed Faunus in the human kingdoms will need a champion, a symbol of hope to look up to in times of war and chaos.""The kingdoms have branded him a terrorist, are you certain that a terrorist will make a good symbol?"He just sighs in response but he remains confident and steadfast, "Hope," he begins, "no matter how small the semblance, will rally the masses under its banner better than any Clan or Kingdom can.""Is that so?" she asks mockingly."This isn't my first war, Lady Khayyam. I know how the narrative turns the tide of war," he answers calmly, meeting the Red Lion's ferocity with grace and composure, "Its ebb and flow sways with whispers and hearsay." Into the distance, he sees their troops amassing by the cold coast. "War is its story," the words were not his and he feels the tiniest sting as he said them."I know someone else who lived by those words," she says tauntingly, making sure he saw her wide, unrelenting smirk.Jin's head turns swiftly and he locks eyes at her, frozen and glaring, "Tread lightly, little lion."She turns around and walks back to the lines, her clan await her in the icy coast of Anima, "Perhaps, there is another reason for you wanting to save this mad cow." Flaunting her eyes like a maiden teasing her suitor.He scoffs at the idea, throwing it into the wind. "Devin was different from Adam. He was confused, disloyal, and far too reckless," a flash of lightning appeared in his eyes, the willow tree has not begun screaming yet as the rain poured hard and heavy."But both were and are charming and charismatic, and both led people to follow the White Fang's cause.""Yes, they did, but whereas Devin attracted people with his wits and charms, Adam led by example. That's why he is still important to us."She ponders a moment, then smiles one more, "Perhaps, you are right. He does still have some uses." Jin nods and she nods back before joining her troops, marching north with her clan. "After all," she gives one last look and smiles, "propaganda doesn't spread itself."Jin perks up, visibly annoyed at her taunting but she just shrugs at him, making sure to see her teasing. He looks down as he moves onward, shaking his head and laughing quietly to himself, "That woman does not know how to tread lightly."