(3rd person POV)
A small child lay half-buried beneath crushed ferns, tattered clothes clinging to his skin like damp paper. Dirt and dried blood painted his limbs, and shallow breaths barely stirred his chest. Anyone passing by would have mistaken him for a corpse abandoned by the forest.
A strange appendage curled near his lower back — unnatural, unmoving, and dusted with leaves as though the world itself had tried to hide it.
*Thump*
The sound echoed faintly through the quiet woods.
*Thump*
Not from the forest.
From him.
(1st POV)
Pain arrived before consciousness.
It crawled through his body in waves, dull at first, then sharp enough to bring a gasp from his throat.
Pain, so much pain.
Cold air filled his lungs.
Wrong.
Everything felt wrong.
The ground was too soft. The air too clean.
His fingers twitched.
They were smaller than he remembered.
Fragments surfaced.
Fluorescent lights.
A glowing phone screen illuminating tired eyes.
Traffic rushing past—
*HONKKK!*
*BANG*
The memory shattered.
He wasn't supposed to be in a forest.
Panic fluttered weakly in his chest.
I was—
The thought slipped away before it could finish.
Something warm stirred beneath his skin.
Not heat.
Energy.
It pulsed faintly, responding to his fear like a heartbeat that didn't belong to his body.
The warmth spread slowly through his body, dulling the sharpest edges of the pain. Bruises throbbed less violently. His breathing steadied, shallow but no longer ragged.
The strange pulse beneath his skin continued, steady and patient.
Like it had always been there.
A weak groan escaped him as he forced his eyes open.
Green.
That was the first thing he saw.
An endless blur of green leaves and broken sunlight shifting above him. The forest canopy swayed gently, branches moving against each other in the wind.
For a moment he simply stared, trying to force his mind to catch up with reality.
Then he tried to move.
A very bad mistake.
Pain exploded across his ribs and down his legs, forcing a choked cry from his throat.
"…gh—"
His hand weakly pushed against the ground beside him. Damp soil pressed between his fingers.
Different.
Everything felt different.
Smaller.
His arm trembled as he lifted it in front of his face.
Small. Thin. Childlike.
A spike of fear shot through him.
"No… no, that's not—"
His voice came out hoarse and far younger than it should have been.
He froze.
Slowly, painfully, he turned his head as something soft brushed against his side.
He hadn't moved.
Confused, he looked down.
Orange fur.
A long, fluffy tail lay curled beside his body, half-hidden under leaves.
For several seconds his mind refused to process what he was seeing.
Then the tail twitched.
He felt it.
Not on his skin.
Inside his spine.
"…What?"
Panic surged violently through him.
The strange warmth beneath his skin flared in response, pulsing brighter, faster.
Leaves rustled somewhere deeper in the forest.
Heavy.
Slow.
*Crunch*
*Crunch*
The forest grew quiet.
Too quiet.
Even through his confusion and pain, instinct screamed that something was wrong.
Very wrong.
Then he saw them.
Two faint yellow lights staring at him from between the trees.
Unblinking.
Watching.
The child's breath caught in his throat.
For a moment nothing moved.
The yellow lights remained perfectly still between the trees, half-hidden behind tangled branches and deep shadow. His mind scrambled for an explanation — an animal, maybe… a wolf…
Then it stepped forward.
Moonlight slid across white bone.
A mask.
Long ears. Hollow eyes. A body made of writhing black fur and muscle that looked wrong in ways he couldn't fully describe.
The sight sent a chill down his spine.
Because he recognized it.
No…
No, that wasn't possible.
His mind screamed the name anyway.
'Beowulf'
'Grimm'
The realization crashed into him harder than the pain in his ribs.
RWBY…?
His breathing quickened, panic surging violently through his chest.
Behind him, his orange tail bristled instinctively, the fur puffing up as if trying to make him look bigger despite his small body.
The Beowulf tilted its head.
As if it had noticed.
Of course it had.
Grimm were drawn to negative emotions.
And right now he was practically drowning in them.
The creature took a step forward.
*Crunch*
Dry leaves snapped under its claws.
Another step.
Closer.
His body refused to move. Pain still chained him to the forest floor, and every attempt to push himself up sent fresh agony tearing through his ribs.
"No… no, no…"The whisper barely escaped his throat.
The Beowulf crouched low.
Muscles tensed beneath dark fur.
Ready to pounce.
Fear exploded through him.
The strange warmth beneath his skin answered instantly.
It surged outward like a second heartbeat.
Golden light flickered faintly across his body before fading again.
The Beowulf paused.
Confused.
The child froze.
The warmth was still there… humming beneath his skin like a quiet engine waiting for direction.
A memory surfaced through the haze of pain.
"Aura" He whispered.
Everyone in Remnant had it.
A shield of the soul.
Except…
He had never unlocked it before.
Another step.
The Beowulf growled low in its throat.
Time ran out.
Leaves exploded upward as the Grimm lunged.
The warmth beneath his skin erupted
The Beowulf's claws tore through the air toward his chest.
The warmth beneath his skin surged violently.
The child didn't understand what he was doing.
He only reacted.
Instinctively… he pushed the energy outward.
A flash of faint gold rippled across his body just as the claws struck.
CRACK.
The impact slammed him into the ground, knocking the breath from his lungs. Pain shot through his ribs, but something had softened the blow. The claws that should have torn him open instead scraped against an invisible barrier before sliding off.
The Beowulf skidded back a step, confused.
The golden light flickered weakly… then vanished.
The warmth inside him sputtered like a dying flame.
That's it?
Panic flooded him.
That was supposed to be aura! Why did it disappear already?!
Of course, the answer was obvious.
He had no idea how to use it.
Back on Earth he had only watched the show. Aura training, control, unlocking—it had all been theory on a screen. Now that it was real, his body felt like a machine without the program he didn't know how to operate.
The Beowulf recovered quickly.
Its head lowered.
Yellow eyes locked onto his again.
Behind him, his orange tail puffed out in pure instinctive fear.
The Grimm took another step forward.
Slow.
Patient.
It had already realized something important.
The prey couldn't fight back.
The faint warmth inside him tried to gather again, but it was weak—slipping through his grasp like water through open fingers.
He tried to focus.
Aura is the manifestation of the soul.
The memory surfaced from somewhere in his mind.
Hunters used it to protect themselves.
Enhance their bodies.
Fight Grimm.
Right now, he couldn't even make it stay active.
"Come on…" he whispered hoarsely.
Nothing happened.
The Beowulf crouched again.
Muscles coiled.
This time there would be no shield.
The child clenched his shaking fist, desperately trying to force that strange warmth to return.
Not a burst.
Not a shield.
Just… anything.
The faintest flicker of gold sparked around his hand.
Weak.
Unstable.
But it was there.
The Beowulf noticed.
Its head tilted slightly, yellow eyes narrowing as if studying the strange glow.
Then it growled.
Low.
Hungry.
The sound froze the child's blood.
The spark around his hand sputtered violently as panic surged again. Whatever control he had just managed slipped away instantly, the faint glow vanishing like a candle snuffed by the wind.
The Grimm lunged.
Claws slammed into the ground where his chest had been a moment before.
He hadn't dodged on purpose.
His body had simply rolled down the small slope beneath him, loose soil and leaves giving way under his weight.
The movement sent agony tearing through his ribs, but instinct screamed louder than the pain.
Run.
He forced his arms beneath him, pushing his trembling body forward. His legs barely cooperated, weak and unsteady as he scrambled through the undergrowth.
Behind him the Beowulf roared.
Branches snapped.
It was following.
Of course it was.
Grimm didn't stop once they found prey.
The warmth inside his body flickered again, responding to his desperation. It didn't explode outward like before, but it gathered faintly around his limbs.
Just enough.
He stumbled forward faster than his injuries should have allowed.
Not running.
More like falling repeatedly in the same direction.
But it was movement.
The Beowulf crashed through the bushes behind him, gaining ground quickly.
Then the terrain changed.
The forest floor dropped suddenly into a narrow ravine hidden beneath thick foliage.
The child didn't see it.
His foot landed on empty air.
For a split second he felt weightless.
Then gravity took over.
He tumbled down the slope, rolling through dirt, roots, and loose stones before crashing hard against the base of the ravine wall.
Stars exploded across his vision.
Above him, the Beowulf skidded to a halt at the revine.
It snarled down at him, claws scraping against rock as it tried to descend the steep slope.
Loose stones crumbled beneath its weight.
The creature slid partway down before scrambling back up again, yellow eyes burning with frustration.
It didn't leave.
Grimm didn't abandon prey.
The monster paced along the edge, circling slowly, searching for another path down.
The child didn't move.
Didn't breathe.
Every instinct told him the same thing.
Stay still.
His heart pounded painfully in his chest, each beat threatening to betray him.
Behind him, his orange tail trembled uncontrollably before he forced it still.
The warmth beneath his skin pulsed faintly again, wrapping weakly around his body like a fragile shell.
Minutes passed.
The Beowulf continued prowling above.
Waiting.
Patient.
Pain and exhaustion finally caught up with him. His vision blurred, darkness creeping at the edges no matter how hard he tried to stay conscious.
Don't pass out…
His body ignored him, and his vision was consumed by darkness.
The last thing he heard before everything faded was the scraping of claws on stone as the Grimm searched for a way down.