"And you're saying the entire herd just went around the town? No attempts to get in? No casualties?"
"Yeah! Trust me, I know it's hard to believe. If I didn't see if for myself I wouldn't be telling anyone this, let alone a huntsman. Look! You can still see some of the tracks."
Qrow peered over the edge of the wooden walls that surrounded the small village. A blanket of heavy snow had gathered up at the base of them, whatever tracks the man was talking already covered up by a recent storm. There were some prints, in the shape of the clawed limbs of Beowolves, but for any wall meant to stand against Grimm that in of itself wasn't anything unusual. The alpha of the group could've survived enough battles to realize it couldn't take down the place with so few numbers and left to gather more of its kind.
A future issue for some other huntsman to deal with.
"So, what's the plan? Are you going to get the military out here?"
"Which way did you say they went?" Qrow asked, bringing his flask up as he gazed out across the snowfield the tracks led out to. He'd never understand how Atlas as a kingdom ever came about. Before Mantle and everything that came after wouldn't it have been far easier to get on a boat and go anywhere else? The old tribe wouldn't have thought twice before doing just that.
"Off to those mountains." The younger man beside him, a member of the village's watch pointed beyond the field and at the way too far snowy peaks in the distance. "So, what's the military planning? Are they going to send a team out here to make sure we're safe?"
Not a chance. Qrow thought as he gulped down a swig from his flask, the bitter warmth and his aura keeping the worst of the biting winds at bay. Manpower wouldn't be spared on a village this far out of the way. Especially not over a few reports that didn't include a single causality.
The only reason he was out here was that fact that there were one too many reports from northern edge of Atlas to completely ignore. One or two reports about strange Grimm movements? Nothing to worry about since the average person thought Grimm would always try to kill them on sight. A good handful, scattered but in the same general area in a timeframe as short as this?
Something had to be going on.
Flask returned back to his belt, Qrow stepped over the edge, the snow cushioning his landing, then took off into the blanket of snow.
"H-Hey! Where are you going?" The man called out from the wall.
"Someone's got to investigate." He called back, throwing out a wave without looking back.
He had a long cold walk ahead of him. Too long to waste time playing babysitter. They knew the risks of settling in a place so far from the capital's walls and were more than capable of defending themselves.
He had a job to get done.
XOXO
An Ursa rushed forward.
Qrow raised his blade.
It ran right past him, its hulking bear-like frame leaving deep imprints in the thick snow as it barreled up the mountain's steep incline. More Grimm of varying types followed and even raced past it, all moving towards the same distant goal.
"How about that?" Qrow muttered, slowly lowering his blade but keeping his guard up as over several dozen Grimm passed by without sparing him a glance. The oldest Grimm, older than the four kingdoms themselves were known to keep their distance, only watching settlements as they roamed Remnant's surface. Any foolish enough to test how docile they were would be trading their life away.
Grimm coming so close to a person and ignoring them was unheard of. Not unless there was another force at work.
There was no turning back now.
The faint buzz from all his drinking still keeping his center warm, Qrow headed up the increasingly frigid mountainside once the herd fully passed him.
It didn't take long before he found their destination. Or rather, their target.
Is that a kid? Qrow blinked, unsure of what to make of the sight before him. A boy, dressed in rags that barely counted as clothes, stood atop the fading corpse of a Ursa. The corpses of all the rest of the herd were strewn about, bony armor shattered , limbs broken and some completely ripped apart.
His immediate assumption was done away with when the boy's head snapped to him, his eyes not of silver but a dark brown.
Why were Grimm-
Qrow stepped aside.
The boy shot past him, fist buried in the snow. Talk about a greeting.
"Hey, kid. I'm not a Grimm." He said. His words fell on deaf ears, the boy turning and jumping at him once more. This time he stood his ground, catching the punches sent his way.
For a moment.
A grunt left Qrow, his hold shattered by strength no one of that size should be capable of and a harsh kick, packing the same strength, hitting his chest. He backpedaled, the boy giving chase the moment his feet hit the ground.
Punches, kicks, elbows, even scratches and bites. The boy was, unironically, no different than a feral animal, relentless in his pursuit. Worse, if Qrow's aura hadn't been up he would've had to worry about far more than bruising if any of the attacks hit the mark.
This had to be the work of a semblance. Did it offer strength in exchange for amplifying the kid's negative emotions? It was nothing more than a guess but it'd explain the unnatural power behind the attacks as well on the Grimm's behavior.
If the kid had a semblance then he had aura.
"Sorry about this." Dodging another blow, Qrow delivered a swift kick to the boy's gut. Just as expected, a barrier, invisible to the naked eye but very much present, softened the blow though the boy still flew back. Only to flip and immediately rush him again. Savage strength aside, the boy's one note attacks made it easy to stay ahead.
One thing became abundantly clear as he whittled down the boy's aura.
His aura was dark and twisted. Unlike any Qrow had ever felt. Just touching the boy was sickening, the aura powering his own shield instinctively attempting to retreat just to avoid brushing against the kid's. This was the first time in a long time that he had to consciously keep his aura shield active in the middle of a fight.
One final, maybe a little too hard, punch straight to the boy's face, shattered the boy's aura shield, a sickeningly familiar crack filling the air as energy, a strange dark hue, crackled around him. His back hit the snow. Face bloodied and nose broken, the boy laid motionless in the snow, the twitching of the black wolfish ears sticking out from his shaggy mess of hair and faint breaths the only signs of life.
Qrow released a breath, fist lowered.
He hadn't meant to break the boy's nose but that disturbing aura and freakish strength had set him on edge.
He headed over to the kid and kneeled down beside him.
The tattered clothing, no more than loose gathering of threads, weren't intact enough to clue him in on any possible origins. Dark hair, dark eyes, and tan skin. Nothing noteworthy there either. Although the kid had more muscle definition than most his age typically did so maybe he'd grown up outside of kingdom walls? Maybe-
Qrow's teeth gritted as he twisted around the boy's left arm. At the end of his bicep, right before the inside of his elbow were dark numbers.
He'd almost thought it a tattoo but a quick thumb over did away with that misconception.
A branded faunus out in the middle of Atlas' frozen wastes with a horribly twisted aura and a semblance probably just as bad. Likely the victim of some kind of experiment. By who and for what reason? Those, along with how he ended up out here were the real mysteries.
The distant thumps of a nearing herd put those questions at the back of his mind for now.
Qrow picked the kid up, threw him over his shoulder and took off.
A lone kid wasn't where he expected this investigation to take him but it was a far better alternative to the other possibilities.