AN: Hello all. This is my first real attempt at an ongoing story, and it's an idea I've had in my head for a while. I've read a lot of fic's on this site that feature a motherly Raven Branwen, but they tend to be the kind where one of the characters is being raised in the Branwen Tribe alongside her. I kind of wanted to go a different path, and see how the story of RWBY would change with Raven being brought out of the bandit lifestyle, and into a world where she is a mother. Hopefully I will write this story in a fun and engaging way that will bring many of your first time readers back for more.

I'd like to thank Noble-Husky for the inspiration behind this story. Your prompts helped inspire me to sit down, brainstorm, and actually get to writing. Hopefully I can do those old short stories of yours justice, and I hope you get a chance to read this one day.

Without further ado, let us begin.

Beta Author: EmperorLuffy

Cover Image by Kimmy77

Screams echoed from deep within the wilderness of the Mistrali forests. Most were filled with half-hearted attempts to sound brave, but were overshadowed by louder cries of fear and pain. One voice stood above them all, echoing throughout the wooded area with a roar of pure fury.

The cries came from a large makeshift campsite of poorly patched up and tattered old tents that were surrounded by an enormous barricade of tall, thick wooden spires.

One of the poorly kept tents exploded outwards, the fabric shredding as a body was roughly thrown through it. His back impacted the barricade, knocking the very wind from him with a wheezing gasp, and he slumped to the ground completely unconscious.

All around the campsite lay the prone bodies of bandits from the ruthless Branwen Tribe. Among them lay a number of their possessions broken and tattered all alongside them, further evidence of the chaos that had unfolded in their midst. The bloodthirsty bandits had for years been regarded as the terror of the Mistrali wilds, but they had never faced a foe such as this.

Hiding behind a thick barrel of food, a young woman with long, flowing black hair, soft lavender eyes, and mocha colored skin cowered, clutching a young child close to her chest. Both of the girls were clearly terrified of the devastation that was currently sweeping through their camp. It was as if the creatures of Grimm had spawned within the confines of their barricade and launched a full on assault.

The child looked up at the older girl clutching her tightly with unshed tears filling her sky blue eyes. Her lightly tanned form shook like a leaf in the wind as screams continued to fill the air around them.

"A-April," The little girl whimpered. "W-What's happening? W-Why is she-"

"I don't know, Vernal," April Branwen replied.

The day had started off no differently than normal, with perhaps the only real difference being the foul temperament of their leader. Even with that however, neither one of the girls expected the day to end up quite like this. To think that she held the powers of the Spring Maiden within her, but was too terrified to even consider stepping out to use it against the monster that was currently rampaging through their camp...

Yet another member of their tribe was sent flying past their hiding spot, bouncing off the ground like a rubber doll and lying completely still once his momentum stopped.

Gulping in terror, April risked a quick glance behind the barrels that shielded her from the wrath of the one that was currently tearing apart their camp.

Standing in the center were the remaining conscious members of the notorious tribe. They had all formed together in a closely knit circle that surrounded their leader, Raven Branwen. Her blood red eyes blazed with an unspoken rage that she was currently taking out on her underlings, all under the explanation of advanced training.

There was no mistaking the look in her eyes and intent in her actions, however. Many of the tribe cowered in terror at the murderous aura that radiated off of her, and fearful that she may actually end up slaughtering them all.

"Weak!" she roared, spitting on the ground at three broken men who lay at her feet bloodied and whimpering.

"Is this the best our tribe has to offer?!" Raven demanded as her long, feathery black hair whipped behind her while she whirled on the men still standing. Many stumbled backwards out of fright, though some stood their ground and glared at her, clearly working up the courage to challenge her next. They were running on fight or flight instincts at this point.

The senior members of the tribe seemed to have no trouble standing up to their powerful leader's outburst, though Raven was not surprised. The youngest of their tribe were too inexperienced to face off against her, for all the bravado that they enjoyed flaunting on a regular basis. Not that she cared, she would have defeated them far too easily anyway.

"What are you girls looking at?" Raven sneered at the older men and women still holding their ground. "Any useless twat can stop and gawk. Is that what my tribesmen are? A bunch of drooling pussies waiting to get fucked? Stop staring and fight!"

The provocation worked, just as Raven knew it would. They all charged with challenging roars.

Raven sidestepped the first attacker, holding her leg out so that the giant of a man tripped over it. She caught him by the scruff of his shirt before he could fall down and bodily hurled him like a pebble at the man closest to her, sending them both flying in an entanglement of limbs. She stepped into the space of the smaller woman that charged forward, easily cutting off her clumsy and wide arcing swing and landing a quick and decisive jab to her chin that sent her crashing to the ground with a thud so hard she could feel it through her feet. As the final challenger approached with his hands clasped high over his head to pound her into the very dirt she stood upon, Raven merely spun in place and launched a spinning backhand that struck the man directly in his solar plexus, knocking the wind out of him and using his forward momentum to knock his legs out from under him, sending him crashing into the barrels that hid April and Vernal who both yelped at the sudden jolt against their hiding place.

Raven turned towards the rest of those gathered around her with a feral grin, only to growl in frustration as they took notice of how quickly she had dispatched the last group and wisely chose to stand down, backing away slowly.

"Tch, cowards!" Raven snapped. "My tribe… absolutely pathetic! It's a wonder how you pussies have managed to last this long without me!"

With one last sneer, Raven turned and stormed off, the men surrounding her quickly parting in the wake of her furious presence.

She had hoped that a good brawl would vent the frustrating emotions that had been plaguing her for the past few weeks. Or had it been months now? She honestly couldn't tell anymore.

Thirty beaten members of her tribe later, and her frustration had merely intensified at the lack of any real challenge to be found. Within the members of her own tribe, no less! They really had grown stagnant in their capabilities under their previous leader.

Speaking of which…

Raven growled as she approached the entrance of her larger and far more luxurious and well furnished tent, seeing the second strongest and most experienced member of the tribe, Haldor Branwen, waiting for her at the entrance.

Haldor stood with his arms crossed, the pose accentuating his large and burly form. His left eye had been sealed shut by a scar he had received some years ago, and his bald head and large, muscled arms had many more scars upon them, hinting at the long life of violence that any Branwen was accustomed to. Whereas other members of the Branwen Tribe had an anger that blazed red hot, Haldor stood apart from the rest with a cold and silent fury that visibly reflected in his lone azure eye.

As well he should. You didn't become leader of the Branwen's by beating your chest and howling like a rampaging Beringel, you got it by being smarter and more capable than the rest. Only an intelligent Branwen could properly lead the tribe and keep them from imploding from within due to their mindless hot-headed temperaments.

Defeating him for control of the tribe had been a rather simple affair, not that she had expected any less. What was unexpected was how the ungrateful bastard had looked down on her for letting him live ever since then. The old fool. She had not spared his life on a simple whim, but because he still had much to offer the tribe. What was the point of throwing away a tool that was still useful? Not that he cared to look at it from her point of view. He was too stuck in the old ways of the Branwen Tribe, the ways of senseless tradition and pointless slaughter that served as little more than useless bragging rights.

Looking at his perpetually scowling mug, Raven knew she was in for yet another lecture from the old fool who just couldn't let his leadership go.

"Fuck off Haldor," Raven growled as she approached. "I'm not in any mood for your bullshit today."

As usual, Haldor completely disregarded her words and cut off the entrance to her own tent by stepping directly in front of her.

"I don't care," Haldor replied in his deep, gravelly voice. "We need to talk."

She considered pummeling him into the dirt with the rest of the raff she had just finished beating, but if nothing else she begrudgingly admired the fact that he was the only member of the tribe who ever had the guts to stand up to her and tell her to her face what he thought.

"You've been in a pissy mood for a while now," Haldor said.

"And what business is that of yours?" Raven asked. "I'll be pissy all I want."

"You even hear yourself, boss? You sound like Vernal when she's bitching after an ass-whipping."

"Get to the point Haldor, before my fist gets to your face."

"Fine. You've been taking whatever's been pissing you off out on the tribe, and it ain't doing you any favors as leader."

"I don't need any damn favors. I'm the leader of this tribe because nobody here is strong enough to take the leadership from me."

"Doesn't change the fact that your duty as leader is to lead. Not make yourself look like hot shit by beating the hell out of your own people. You even seen the way they've been looking at you?"

Raven turned with a huff, glancing back at her tribe and the results of the chaos she had unleashed upon them. Though many of them looked away upon seeing her turn her gaze towards them, she had been able to see some of their expressions.

Resentment. Anger. Frustration. She could even see murderous intent in a few of their eyes.

"Okay," Raven said as she turned back to Haldor. "What's your point?"

"My point," Haldor growled, "is that if you keep beating on the tribe like your own personal punching post, then you're going to face an incursion soon. They're tired of being your whipping boys, Raven. They won't just sit around and let you beat on them forever."

"Good. Maybe then they'll learn to stop being such pathetic excuses for warriors and learn to put up a real fight."

Raven attempted to end the conversation there by pushing Haldor aside, but snarled and whirled on him when he gripped her by the arm.

"Don't ever fucking touch me," Raven snapped, yanking her arm back.

"Look," Haldor said. "You wanna be pissed? Be pissed, I don't give a shit. But figure out a way to do it without kicking the asses of your own boys. Keep this shit up and we may face worse than an incursion. With as pissed as you've been and as miserable as you've made the tribe, it's a damn miracle the Grimm aren't banging on our gates."

Raven huffed in annoyance, but silently conceded that point. Seeing the damage she had caused in her anger did make it obvious that she had practically lit a fire to attract the Grimm that surrounded them.

"What would you suggest, then?" Raven asked.

"Take the tribe on a raid," Haldor replied. "Let them get angry with you, not at you, and share all of that violence that you need to let out. It'll also help send the Grimm in the opposite direction. We need new supplies anyway. You wrecked a good chunk of them with your temper tantrum."

"Hmph. Maybe they'll defend their valuables with more determination next time."

"Cut the shit, Raven. It's been nearly five years since you've taken over, and the tribe still hasn't fully accepted you as their leader yet. With shit like what you pulled today, it ain't hard to see why. You're the strongest one here, but that doesn't mean everyone accepts you as one of us."

Raven bared her teeth at Haldor, but considered his words. A raid would help her vent, at least more than she had been able to lately. A simple brawl was one thing, but a life or death struggle? That was something else entirely.

Remembering the sensation of her pounding heart, the uncertainty of a victory over a particularly difficult foe, the extreme bloodlust running through her veins, and the sweet taste of triumph when it was all over and done with helped Raven make her decision.

"Prepare the tribe," she said at last. "We raid at first light tomorrow."

That at least would give the beaten members of the tribe enough time to recover and hopefully still have their anger towards her high enough to use against whatever village they ended up targeting.

Raven moved past Haldor and made it to the entrance of her tent before his voice stopped her once more.

"You know… there are other ways to vent besides violence, boss. If you were to see a villager that happened to catch your eye-"

"No slaves," Raven said warningly. "You may not believe it, but I spent time around the new General of the Atlesian Military. Our raids are enough, but if we start raping and enslaving, they'll be all over us. We'll ransom anyone we capture who's worth a damn, but no more than that."

"Tch. The Atlesian's wouldn't be a problem if you used that little girl you brought with you."

"I've been training April from the moment I first brought her into this tribe. She's not ready to fight the Atlesian's."

"Then maybe you're going too easy on her."

"I go any harder on her, and I'll end up killing her."

Deciding she had had enough, Raven stepped into her tent without bothering to wait for a reply. Away from the prying eyes of her tribe, she let out a loud sigh and let her shoulders slump.

A quick glance at the damage she had inflicted in a rage induced tantrum within her tent confirmed what she already knew. She'd been a complete mess since the death of her former teammate and friend, Summer Rose.

What a confusing mix of emotions that incident had caused her. She had no idea why she had been so shocked when it happened, especially when she had specifically tried to warn Summer of this very real danger before she had left their team.

"You idiot…" Raven muttered as she stalked over to her bed, stepping over the shattered and slashed furniture that littered the floor.

She collapsed onto her sheets with a tired sigh, letting the fine silks and furs warm her body. Not that such sensations had been of any use to her lately. On the few occasions she had actually managed to catch some sleep since Summer had died, her dreams were filled with memories of the time she had spent with her old team, memories she would have liked nothing more than to forget.

She didn't want to reminisce about the good times she had with Team STRQ. Such memories served as nothing more than senseless distractions that weighed her down, a reminder of a past that was forever lost to her now.

As if the happy memories weren't bad enough, she had to deal with the emotional fallout of Summer's death on top of it all. Summer had always been a complicated subject for Raven, and her death seemed to only amplify that. She felt loss, sorrow, anger, envy, pity, and guilt. She liked feeling these emotions even less than she liked remembering the past. They went beyond simple distractions, and left her feeling vulnerable and weak.

Raven had been the first one to know of Summer's death, courtesy of her Semblance. She wasn't sure if it had been guilt or indifference that kept her from reaching out to Taiyang and Qrow, though it ultimately didn't matter in the end. As she had expected, Qrow eventually came to her a little over two weeks after the fact. He seemed to know the truth even before he asked her, but she could still see the hope in his eyes when he requested that she open a portal to Summer.

Raven honestly wished she could have taken pleasure in seeing that hope dashed from his eyes, but if she were honest with herself, she couldn't even bear to look at him. If she locked eyes with him for too long, he might see the truth reflected in hers and cut her down then and there.

That damned fool… Raven thought to herself. I warned her not to take part in Ozpin's little games. Dammit, I warned her!

She had warned Taiyang and Qrow as well, not that the idiots had listened any better. Now Summer had paid the ultimate price for putting her faith in a man that just could not be trusted.

The events surrounding her mistrust of Ozpin had led to their last and very bitter meeting. It had been the last time the two of them spoke to one another, and the memory of that event wouldn't stop playing in her head.

Of all the members of Team STRQ, it had been Summer herself who had caught Raven as she was leaving her husband and newborn. There was shouting, there was pleading, there was anger, disbelief, and sadness.

Then there was violence.

It hadn't been the first time she and Summer had ever fought. When Raven had first joined Beacon and refused to be a team player, Summer had quickly put a stop to that by showing just how much of a difference there was between someone who had merely lived the life of an outlaw and someone who had actually been properly trained to fight. The next few times had been sparring matches meant only to further their training and build their team compatibility.

But their last fight… it had been the first true fight between them. The first time they didn't fight as friends, but as bitter enemies, and the first time they had both genuinely wanted to hurt the other.

It was also the first time Raven had ever beaten Summer. Their parting words were…

Raven shook her head, banishing the words before they could replay in her mind again. She didn't want to think about what her last words to Summer had been. They made her feel guilt, which she shouldn't be feeling in the slightest. After all, she had been proven right, hadn't she? Summer trusted Ozpin and now she was gone. Raven had distrusted him and she was still here.

The thought did little to comfort her, and in fact only helped further churn the guilt she already felt.

If I had helped Summer…

"I'd have died too," Raven growled.

If I kept trying to convince them…

"They'd have laughed me off like they always did! I have nothing to feel sorry for. Nothing! Summer dug her own damned grave, now she can lie in it!"

Raven grit her teeth as her volatile emotions threatened to erupt. Loss for the friend she had grown to love. Resentment for the leader who had failed to listen to her. Envy for the wife who had taken her place. Guilt for her weakness to change what had happened.

Raven slapped herself across the face the moment that last thought crossed her mind.

Weakness? Her?!

She was anything but weak. Turning away from impossible odds was not a weakness, it was just common sense. Turning away from blind fools who refused to see the truth was the wisest course of action she could have taken. Why cling onto suicidal soldiers of a pointless war?

She was strong. Strong! Strong!

Raven was suddenly glad for Haldor's suggestion. Sitting here and dwelling on her emotions wouldn't make them go away, but venting them on a raid just might. She had done the same thing when she had first left Team STRQ behind. Letting her vicious nature out helped stamp out all other feelings and gave her both a sense of relief and satisfaction.

She was angry, bitter, and hurt. It was time she took those emotions boiling within her and turned them into hateful rage. She almost felt bad for whichever village they were soon to target. Hopefully they had a Huntsman or two to take the brunt of her wrath.

Her face split into a vicious smile as the anticipation began to build within her. This was the way of the strong. If letting out the savage animal within helped numb the emotions that plagued her, then she would unleash it as many times as it took.

The Branwen Tribe marched silently through the woods. Normally she would have sent a scout ahead to locate a village and report back after a thorough inspection, detailing any noticeable flaws or weaknesses. The spontaneity of this particular raid had taken that advantage out of the equation, though Raven couldn't say that she much cared.

Not knowing what lay ahead made her senses light up with anticipation. It was the fear of the unknown, that sense of imagination as her mind filled in the blanks of just what it was she might encounter that helped distract her from the emotions that had been dictating her behavior for too long.

She could tell the rest of her tribe felt much the same just by looking into their eyes and seeing the fire of excitement burning within them. Their silent voices and quiet footfalls only added more fuel to the burning fire that had lit within them, the normally loud and boisterous group having to contain their antics until the inevitable explosion of action. Many of them still had pent up aggression and rage from the vicious beatdown she had given them the day before, and they looked just as ready as she was to let it all out.

Though their voices were muted and their footsteps were light, the air around them buzzed with anticipation. Like a lion tensing its muscles just before a charge, the Branwen Tribe was ready to be unleashed.

Raven decided that there would be more spontaneous raids in the future. The moments before the charge were already an intoxicating high, but this was on a whole other level, and a sensation that she wouldn't mind getting used to.

They were spread out to cover more ground and avoid the possibility of any pitfalls or traps laid by those who knew of their presence within the wilds, which was the occasional hazard they had to deal with. This method of marching further helped spread their line of sight and would hopefully grant them a greater chance of catching a glimpse of the next helpless village they were soon to raid.

Raven's entire body tingled as she felt a noticeable shift in the air around her. Just a few seconds later, Haldor lightly tapped her shoulder and made a series of simple hand gestures that made up the Branwen's own personal sign language.

A village had been spotted.

Careful to keep her silence and prevent her men from being discovered, Raven signalled Haldor to take the rest of the tribe and fan out. Haldor nodded once and turned to signal the others as Raven hurried forward, making sure not to step on any stray twigs or leaves and keeping her footfalls light.

As she approached the small group that had spotted the village through a small clearing in the trees, they all turned to her with savage and bloodthirsty smiles, which she returned once she caught sight of the buildings that lay just ahead.

She quietly signalled for the tribe to surround the village, waiting patiently as her orders were passed on. It was the calm before the storm now, those sweet silent moments before all hell broke loose.

She savoured the silence, her ears listening intently to the natural sounds that surrounded her while taking quiet pride in the fact that she couldn't hear her troops as they moved. The forest was filled with the noise of the gentle breeze, the rustling of the treetops, the chirping of the birds, and the quiet murmur of voices she could hear from the village.

Soon, all of those sounds would be replaced with battle cries, clashing steel, and weeping weaklings. The anticipation made her forehead break out in an excited sweat, though she dare not move to wipe it away, keeping absolutely still as she savoured her rising body heat. It was as though she had been lit on fire, a burning sensation that was just begging to be released, with every second that passed feeling like an eternity of anticipation that made the flame to grow higher and higher.

When the man standing closest to her signaled that the tribe was in place, Raven licked her lips in excitement as she slowly drew her blade.

All around her, the Branwen's followed her signal, quietly drawing their weapons as the final moments of anticipation took their excitement to new heights.

As the men around her nodded, Raven felt the boiling tension that had been building within her snap.

Raven let out a primal howl of rage and sprinted forward with her weapon held high, an action that was swiftly repeated by the rest of the Branwen's as they all charged. They covered the distance separating them from the village within moments, with Raven in the lead.

Upon reaching the village, Raven ignored the buildings and civilians she could just make out in her peripheral vision, her eyes instead scanning for any signs of a possible threat she could unleash her aggression upon. Leaving the puny morsels of the villagers to her men, she maneuvered herself into the center of the buildings, ready to meet any conflict head on.

Had Raven stopped to witness the first encounter between bandit and villager, she would have noticed that even as her tribesmen closed in, the villagers stood their ground.

Haldor took notice of one particularly attractive woman with two young children clinging to her out of fright and smiled ferally, eager to take his right by conquest. To hell with what Raven said, he was taking this beautiful woman he had spotted right where she stood. If Raven killed him for his disobedience? Then at least she would have finally taken proper control of the tribe.

He charged the small family, eager to give chase when the woman turned and ran and eager to cut down whoever the father of this family was to stake his claim on the soon to be widow. But to his surprise, they didn't run. Instead, the woman merely gathered her children closer to her and stayed where she was. Even after Haldor closed the distance, stopping just before her with his spiked mace raised over his head and his voice yelling with primal fury, the woman stayed rooted to the ground.

Confusion rushed forward, momentarily overpowering the intoxicating high of the raid. Though the children were visibly afraid of this burly and scarred man, their mother was not. Instead, she looked angry. Furious, even. She glared defiantly at him with a visible hatred burning in her eyes.

For a brief moment, Haldor's confidence wavered. Like a predator suddenly faced with a prey that was refusing to run, but instead stood its ground to fight back, Haldor suddenly became unsure of himself.

The moment was fleeting as common sense rushed back in to push away the moment of doubt. He was a Branwen, bred and raised in strength. One unarmed woman and her two brats were no threat to him, and neither was the man of their family. Speaking of, where was the father…?

Well, there was only one way to draw the man out.

"Come on!" Haldor roared, shoving the woman forward. "Center of the village! Get your sorry ass moving!"

The woman didn't resist, even as she continued to glare defiantly back at him. She quietly led her children towards the direction of the village square, murmuring soft reassurances to them.

Haldor continued to holler and shove the woman, taking pleasure in the way her smaller frame jerked harshly with every brutal shove of his muscular arms. Despite that brief pleasure however, his eyes remained wandering through the area surrounding him, searching for the furious men of the village who would typically be rushing to defend their families by this point.

To his surprise, none came forward. He was instead greeted with a sight similar to the odd encounter that he himself was experiencing. All around him, his fellow tribesmen were having encounters with the rest of the villagers that were almost mirror copies of his own. They weren't running or cowering or screaming in terror. Instead they were holding their ground, glaring just as defiantly at the rest of the charging bandits as the woman he encountered had glared at him.

The flash of uncertainty that Haldor had experienced was spreading through the rest of the ranks at this odd reaction from the villagers. To his annoyance, Haldor could see some of the younger and less experienced members of the tribe actually pull away briefly, their uncertainty becoming fear as their confidence fell away.

"What do you idiots think you're doing?!" Haldor roared at his juniors, startling them. "Get those pathetic little bitches and their brats, and round them all up! What, you afraid of a bunch of girls now?!"

Haldor's words brought the Branwen fire back into their eyes, and the bandits turned back to the villagers with renewed vigor, shouting and shoving the villagers towards the center of the village where they would be properly corralled and contained once the village had been completely taken over.

Despite his words, Haldor felt a growing flicker of concern begin to course through him as his eyes took in the scene all around him. The villagers weren't reacting the way that numerous others had during all of the raids that had come before. They were just quietly complying with the demands to be moved towards the village's center, their eyes hardened even in the face of a raiding tribe of outlaws.

As he glanced over the villagers, he noticed an odd irregularity. The villagers were all women, children, and elderly folk. There were no men rushing forward to defend their families, no fights breaking out anywhere that he could see. Even as he listened intently, his ears could pick up no battle cries aside from the customary roar of strength from his fellow tribesmen, and no audible sounds of clashing steel or any sort of fight breaking out.

What the hell was this? Some kind of joke?

Haldor growled to himself as his thoughts drifted to their leader. Had she purposefully picked a village that was too timid to offer any kind of fight? It would be just like her to do so. Or worse still, had her soft reputation spread far enough that the surrounding villages no longer feared them?

The very thought sent a cold chill of anger running through his veins. He didn't like the girl. When she had left their tribe years ago to train as a Huntress, she had all the bite of a true Branwen, uncaring about anything but strength. But ever since she had come back, it was plain to see that she had changed.

She didn't permit the slaughter of the entire village or the enslavement of its people. She took temporary prisoners and held them for ransom, but even if the payment wasn't made, she would just let the prisoners go and claim that travel without an escort was practically a death sentence. She always had some bullshit excuse to offer, like not wanting to draw the Atlesian authorities on them or not wanting to risk drawing the ire of the Grimm that surrounded them.

Tch, as if they had ever cared about that sort of crap in the past. The younger generation couldn't see it, but Haldor and the other long standing tribesmen could.

Raven had gone soft. She hadn't changed into the Branwen she used to be even after being back with them for so long, and Haldor was beginning to lose his patience.

Pure strength alone could only be respected so much, and only when it was wielded by someone who was willing to use it. As the villagers were quickly and quietly herded into the center of the village, Haldor began to wonder if Raven really did have the guts to use that strength in a proper fight to the finish.

Maybe he would find out before the day was through.

Raven rushed through the buildings, screeching like a wild banshee. She barely registered the villagers in her path, disregarding them as just more obstacles to weave around as she made her way to the center of the village.

Her red eyes constantly scanned for any sign of resistance or charging warriors, her ears were perked intently as she listened for any sound of a rival battle cry responding to her own.

To her surprise, she found none. All too quickly she had made her way to the village square, with not even a single form of resistance to slow her down. Undeterred, Raven released a roar of triumph that was swiftly echoed by her tribe, holding her red sword aloft. Perhaps her celebration was a bit premature, but truthfully, she wasn't interested in the raid itself. She just wanted the violence that said raid entailed, and standing in the center of the village while shouting at the top of her lungs was the best way she could imagine summoning all of the village's warriors to her. She scanned her immediate surroundings, expecting the village's men and assigned Huntsmen to be charging her direction any second, ready to fight for their homes.

Instead she experienced the same amount of confusion as Haldor when she saw that the scene around her was nothing like their usual raids. There was no sound of fighting or screams of anger, sorrow, and fear filling the air. There was no sign of her bandits chasing the fleeing villagers, kicking in their doors, or brutalizing them where they stood.

What she witnessed in place of that was the group of villagers quietly allowing themselves to be moved into the village square. Even when they were shoved forward or struck to encourage a quicker response, they gave no audible sound of pain or defiance. Shockingly, they appeared more angered by their presence than afraid. She would even go as far as to say they looked enraged. Despite this, they willingly gathered in the center of the village and quickly clumped together as they became completely surrounded by the Branwen Tribe, who continued to shout and roar while waving their weapons above their heads in a futile effort to instill some sort of fear within the villagers. In what must have been record timing, the Branwen's had completely taken over the village with no noticeable struggle. Their roars quickly began to fade, leaving only a confused murmur in its place.

Raven scowled beneath her mask, red eyes narrowing at the crowd of villagers before her.

What the hell is this? She wondered to herself.

Raven could see her own confusion reflected in some of her underlings as the villagers still did not react in any manner that they were accustomed to. They should have fled and been chased down like a flock of frightened sheep. Instead they had held themselves firm and stood their ground. What surprised her even more was the fact that even though there was a slight fear visible across their features, more so in the children than the adults, there was also a spark of defiance. All of the adults glared at the tribe that surrounded them as if they had merely offended them with this raid instead of coming to take all of their valuables and resources.

The occasional defiant villager was to be expected, and more than once she had made an example of those types. To experience it from an entire village was something new. Raven's eyes continued scanning over the crowd, searching for an answer she just wasn't seeing.

Regardless of their defiance and the rather disappointing lack of bloodshed, the takeover of the village was now complete. Gathered before her as they were, the eyes of the villagers all began to turn towards her as she stood at the forefront of her tribe to establish herself as the one in charge.

In yet another bizarre reaction, the villagers seemed to suddenly disregard the tribe that had surrounded them and focused all of their attention on her. Their gaze burned. Raven could feel the heat of all of their anger directed at her. Her confusion multiplied as she took them all in.

Women. Children. Old. This village didn't look like it had even a single worthy foe amongst them. Where were their warriors? Where were the men and the Huntsmen? Did none of these villagers have so much as a gun to defend themselves with?

For a moment, she felt a flash of nervousness. Was this a trap? Had they been expected? But that couldn't be, this raid hadn't been planned at all, she hadn't even sent any scouts forward. This had literally been a completely spontaneous attack.

This was unlike any raid she had ever experienced before. Hell, this hardly qualified as a raid at all! There was usually an outbreak of a violent and intense conflict before the villagers were secured and rounded up. These villagers were all bunched together in only a few minutes!

As she looked down upon the crowd who glared at her, Raven felt herself sneer back at them in contempt from beneath her mask. Who the hell were these weaklings to bat so much as a single eye of defiance towards her? They didn't even bother to give either her or her tribe any reason to become violent. Raven's irritation only grew further as she began to notice some of her tribesmen glancing at one another with uncertain expressions as the rush of the raid began to fade.

Damned cowards, Raven thought bitterly. Frightened by a corralled flock of helpless sheep.

Raven felt the bitter taste of disappointment wash over her bloodlust at both the lack of violence and the uncertainty some of her men were exhibiting. The initial rush she had felt just before the raid had begun to fade away, leaving her unfulfilled. She had wanted action. She needed it to push the past away, and yet here she was holding her unused sword like a fool. She growled in frustration as she sheathed her weapon and stepped forward to address the gathered crowd before her.

"Listen up you pathetic little worms!" Raven roared. "We've taken over your village, and both it and your lives are now forfeit! Cough up any valuables you have, and don't even think of resisting! The first person who tries it will be cut down by my blade!"

Please somebody try it, Raven internally begged. She needed to spill some blood today. Even the slightest bit would do.

But her disappointment only continued when she was met with more passive silence and glares, with not even one peep of protest from the herd standing before her.

"April," she barked. "Lead some of our men to the houses and loot them. Bring any valuables you find here. Haldor, take some of the men and go through the villagers to see if they have anything of worth on them. Oh, and make sure the women are thoroughly checked. You never know what they've got hidden in their bosoms."

"Heh," Haldor chuckled, even as April hurried away, visibly pale over Raven's last order. "You got it, boss."

Raven could tell the men were clearly excited at the opportunity to explore their female captives. Normally she demanded more restraint from them. Not that she cared for the wellbeing of the villagers in question, but more so for the fact that the more shocking the actions of her tribe became, the more likely they were to receive national attention and maybe even more focused efforts to route them from their ways. Given her past history with Ozpin and her possession of the Spring Maiden, it was just more trouble than it was worth.

Today was different though, if only because Raven hoped a more violating act on their part would incite some sort of rebellion. Gods, she needed action. Her adrenaline had already begun to fade, and it added to her already large pile of frustrations instead of taking away from it as she had hoped. But as she watched her cackling men take liberties with the women, Raven could already tell that she was going to be disappointed.

The expressions on the their faces hardly changed, even as the men roughly searched and groped them. When some of them even went as far as to stick their hands beneath their clothes, the women offered little more than an uncomfortable wince at the unpleasant sensations. Raven could see some of the older children furiously glaring at their mothers' violators, but a quick mutter or stern glare from the adults kept them from lashing out.

Just as well, Raven supposed. There'd be little gain from slaughtering children.

When her men had finished searching the villagers and came to place their findings at her feet, they stopped before her with confused expressions, nervously shuffling in place.

"Well?" Raven demanded. "What did you find?"

"Um…" Haldor began, scratching the back of his head in confusion. "Nothing, boss. They don't have anything on them."

Raven stared the giant of a man down, her frustration mounting even further when Haldor didn't even have the decency to look intimidated by her.

"Are you holding out on me?" she whispered dangerously.

"No," he replied. "They had nothing on them. No jewels, no lien, they don't even have a watch or a scroll on them. You can check them yourself if you like, or search me and the men if you think we're holding out on you."

Raven's red eyes burned as they quickly scanned each one of her men, searching for signs of any sort of defiance. It wouldn't be the first time she'd had to deal with such a thing from Haldor, the stubborn old fool seemed to relish challenging her authority. She half hoped he was stupid enough to try again today, her need for an outlet was so strong at this point.

Not to her surprise, but somewhat to her disappointment, all but Haldor cowered beneath her gaze, visibly afraid of her wrath.

Tch, pathetic, Raven thought to herself. No way any of these weak little sadsacks would try and shaft her, not when they feared the consequences. Did these villagers truly have no sort of valuables of any kind? A lack of jewelry she could understand. But no scrolls? How did they expect to contact the outside world for any help?

She clenched her teeth and tapped her foot, feeling her impatience growing by the minute. She cast another eye towards the villagers, who remained as silent yet defiant as ever. Her eyes narrowed at the bitter looks they kept sending her way. She didn't like their expressions. Maybe that would be the excuse she needed to lash out. Go up to them and prod at them herself. If they were so eager to bat a defiant eye at her, they could bat a defiant fist just as well.

April shuffled forward before Raven could act on that impulse, the rest of her men in tow. The young girl nervously glanced away from her stern leader, looking even more pathetic than her men did when she dressed them down. The rest of the men behind her didn't look nervous, but they did look confused and frustrated with visible frowns across their features.

They at least had something to offer though, dropping an assortment of food and random trinkets at her feet.

Raven stared at a paltry pile. Candle holders, watering pails, books, and various other worthless piles of junk. What little food there was barely passed as a midday meal.

"That's it?!" Raven snapped. "That's all you have to offer?!"

April leapt back as though she were avoiding a snake bite. Her fear was plain to see, and just the sight alone nearly pushed Raven's temper over the edge. She reached forward and gripped the girl by the scruff of her shirt to drag her forward.

"No, please!" April begged. Begged. Raven nearly beat the girl down for that alone. Gods, she was pathetic.

"Don't fucking beg in front of the sheep, you brainless dumbass!" Raven snarled. "Where the hell is the rest of the village's food?! This pittance would barely last the rest of the day! What did you do with the rest of it?!"

April descended into a pitiful rambling that Raven could barely discern. She snarled in disgust, shoving the girl backwards before she became infected with her weakness.

Raven instead turned to one of her men, who winced under her intense glare, but didn't back away from it.

Thank the gods at least some of my men still possess their spines, Raven thought.

"It's true boss," the man said. "We searched the whole village. Even tore every building apart. But this is all they had. No secret rooms, no hidden stashes that we could find. They got nothing."

Raven growled, feeling her eye twitch as her pent up aggression threatened to consume her. She spun on her feet and stormed over to the villagers, who instead of cowering at the sight of her anger, stood even taller and raised their chins in spite of it. It was almost as if they were hoping for her to challenge them directly.

If that was what they wanted, then so be it. She'd slaughter the lot of them herself if they refused to cooperate. At least then she'd have an opportunity to vent some of her anger.

"Which one of you maggots is the one in charge?" Raven demanded. "Chieftain, mayor, sheriff, whatever! Who's the one in charge here?!"

"I am," came a withered, gravelly voice from the back.

Raven turned towards the source of the voice, quickly noticing the villagers who parted to reveal the short form of an ancient man.

Time had clearly taken its toll on the elder, for his head barely reached Raven's midsection. Any height he might have retained from his youth was further lost from the way he hunched over with his thin, twig-like arms visibly shaking as they supported his weight on the small wooden cane he held. His wrinkled old skin hung from his bones as though it would fall off at any moment, and his head was completely bald and covered in numerous liver spots. His eyes were so sunken in, they were almost not visible.

Raven managed to catch a small glimpse of them. Those little black beads of onyx locked onto her own eyes, and Raven could see that where the rest of the man was withered and soft, his eyes were hard. They stabbed into her like blades of obsidian, and had the man still been in his youth, Raven would have grasped her sword in response to the fierce look the man was giving her.

But as he was now, Raven merely crossed her arms and raised a single eyebrow while smirking at the man's pitiful attempts at intimidation. There was no doubt in her mind that this man had once been a warrior of great strength, but now? He was a withered old crone. Useless and weak.

It was honestly a sad sight to behold. Seeing a powerful warrior live to see such a weak age offended her chosen way of life. In the Branwen Tribe, any elder who lived to see a certain age took what was known as the Last Raid, in which they took on the very wilderness and demanded that Mother Nature yield to their strength. These great warriors died in combat with Remnant itself, a noble end to the long life of the strong.

"Judging by how wrinkled and soft you look, I assume you are the Village Elder?" Raven asked.

"That is correct. I am Alban, Elder and Chieftain of this village," the old man replied.

"Wonderful. Tell me where you've hidden all of your valuables, and we'll be on our wa-"

"You are not welcome in this village. Get out."

Raven paused, her face a blank sheet of emotion. She stared down the tiny and frail old man before her, once again looking into those dark eyes.

"Excuse me?" Raven breathed, certain she had heard wrong.

"I said get out of my village," Alban repeated with firm authority. "Your kind are not welcome here. Take your men, leave behind all that you have stolen from our homes, and don't ever come back here again."

A silent beat passed as the entire Tribe paused where they stood while Alban's words registered in their minds. The bandits glanced at their leader, some with worried expressions over her impending response, and others with vicious grins who were hoping it would be brutal.

After a moment of silent disbelief, Raven threw her head back and laughed. The rest of the tribe quickly joined her, the lot of them howling with mirth.

"Oh, that's-!" Raven had to pause as yet another bout of laughter escaped her. "That's rich old man! Truly! But I don't think you seem to grasp the situation you're in. See, you don't give commands here. You're not the one in charge. We hold all the cards right now, and it's in your best interest to just cooperate and do as you're told."

"I fail to see how letting you thugs take all of our necessities is in our best interest," Alban replied.

"Then let me explain it to you. We are, as you so eloquently put it, thugs, with deadly weapons and no moral compass. You lot on the other hand are the helpless unarmed villagers who are completely surrounded by us. If you don't do as you're told, then I'm afraid we're going to have to make an example out of you so that all future villages know what happens when you don't listen to your betters."

"You have a skewed definition of that word if you truly believe that muscle and weapons somehow makes you superior to us. Go ahead then, kill us."

Raven froze, her previous merriment disappearing in a flash. The rest of the tribe did as well, each unsure if they had heard correctly.

"What?" Raven asked.

"I said go ahead and kill us," Alban repeated. "Between dying here and now or leaving my village to the mercy of an inevitable starvation and Grimm attacks, it's easy to see which is more preferable. Cut us down right now. We're helpless, just as you said. Go on and do it."

Raven stared at the old man, absolutely bewildered by his response. It was a bluff of some kind, it had to be. No sensible leader would so casually offer up the lives of those they were sworn to protect. This old man had to be senile.

She glanced towards the villagers in the background, certain she could use this old man's foolishness to her advantage. No way would the villagers just sit back and let their own leader offer them up on a platter. Surely they would all band together to denounce their leader, and once they did, she could intimidate whoever came forward in his place.

As she got a good look at the crowd of villagers however, her bewilderment only intensified. The angry looks that had been constant since they had first entered this village were still there, but they had become muted with a sense of resignation. Some of the villagers had closed their eyes, and some were even clutching their children tightly while tears streamed down their faces, as though their children had already been lost. Even some of the children themselves looked to have accepted their fate!

Raven felt dizzy as her head spun in total confusion. Was everyone in this village completely insane?! Who just willingly rolled over to die? That was pure madness!

But what was even worse was the precarious spot such a reaction now placed her in. She could see the consequences already forming; her tribesmen seemed uncertain of what to do next and were looking to her for an answer.

But she didn't have one. She couldn't just order the slaughter of them when they hadn't even put up so much as a slight bit of resistance.

The Branwen Tribe had a simple code they operated by, and that was the code of the strong. If you wanted food to eat, you had to be prepared to fight others for it. If you wanted comfort and warmth, you had to be willing to take it for yourself. If you wanted to dictate what did or didn't happen within the tribe, then you had to take it over from whoever ruled it. These acts always involved conflict and violence. It was designed by the first members of the tribe to weed out the weaklings amongst them and ensure that only hardened warriors remained. Every scar was a badge of honor. Every year added to your life was a sign of an individual's strength to survive. Every obstacle was a conflict.

A good fight was considered a true sign of strength, especially if it was life or death combat. But to overcome an obstacle without conflict? It was considered a sign of weakness, either by a lack of willingness to fight for the right to take what you wanted or the simple inability to take it no matter how badly you wanted it. Killing this unarmed, fragile, senile old fool would hardly constitute as a real struggle. She may as well crush a butterfly in her hand for all the effort it required.

But she couldn't not do anything. Backing down from unarmed and helpless civilians was a weakness of its own and would make her lose face as leader. She was already sitting in a precarious position with Haldor always challenging her authority and the recent bitterness she had left in the men she had so viciously beat down just the day before. This would encourage further problems down the line, problems she didn't feel like dealing with at the moment.

This wrinkled old pest had called her bluff, and now she needed to find a proper response. She refused to believe such a reply was a coincidence. In fact, she was beginning to find the villagers angry reactions to their presence making much more sense.

These people knew who they were, and judging by the way they were conducting themselves, had been expecting them.

"Who the hell are you people?" Raven finally demanded, hoping to stall long enough to find a suitable way out of her current predicament.

"Heh. You don't recognize any of their faces?" Alban asked.

"I don't make it a habit of getting to know weaklings."

"Why is that, girl? Surrounded by enough of them already?"

Raven felt a fire light within her the moment the words left Alban's mouth. She snarled on instinct with the rest of her tribe echoing her outrage as they all growled, snarled, and roared at the challenge of their strength.

Calling a Branwen weak was a death sentence. Several of her tribesmen were already calling for it, urging her to strike this miserable old wretch down. Unbidden, her hand flew to the hilt of her blade and began to unsheath it.

"That's right, do it!" Alban shouted, his withered old voice somehow piercing through the jeers of the entire tribe. "Go ahead and cut me down. Show me the strength needed to kill an unarmed, helpless old man. Go on then, girl. Do it."

Raven's hand paused, her weapon half drawn. It wasn't Alban's words that stayed her blade, it was the effect they had. Almost as soon as the words had left his lips, the rest of her tribe had gone silent. A quick glance in their direction confirmed Raven's fears; they were looking unsure of themselves. Once more the old wretch had chosen his words very carefully, and the Branwen Tribe was now observing her closely to see what her response would be.

Just like before, she couldn't do anything. Cutting the old man down here and now would just prove him right. What strength did it really show to kill a defenseless old man? Doing so only carried further risk of inciting insubordination amongst her ranks. But letting the old man get away with defying her would result in the exact same consequences. After all, how could she be a strong leader if she let some random old man chastise and insult her? No matter her choice of action, the result would make her look weak.

Gods above, could she just raid already?

Raven sheathed her weapon with a snarl. It didn't do much for the tribe, who were still watching and waiting to see what she would do. She didn't have time to think of an appropriate response before the old man started chuckling at her.

"Yes, that's what I thought," Ablan said defiantly. "I know your kind. I've dealt with them many times in the past. Always believing that preying on those weaker than you makes you strong."

"Silence yourself, old man!" Raven yelled. "You know nothing of true strength. Even the mighty lion does not exert itself on the strongest sheep. It picks off the youngest, the oldest, or the weakest. Only a lion of a rival pride deserves its full strength. What good is a test of strength on a frail old bag of dusty bones like you?"

"You fancy yourself a lion, do you? Well you're not. You don't have any claws or fangs. Try to deny it and justify yourselves all you want, but at the end of the day you're just another human, like the rest of us. The only difference is that unlike you, those of our village choose not to ignore our conscience."

"Conscience?" Raven spat out the word as though it tasted foul. "Morality? Pah, your age had made you senile, old man. Morality is an illusion. A social construct made to try and justify the caging of our basic animal instincts. At the end of the day, we are every bit as wild and untamed as the animals that surround us. People like to pretend that they're above all that, but the reality is that they're not."

To her eternal fury, the old man simply smiled at her as though he were explaining things to a simple child.

"Aren't we though? After all, you said it yourself. You are the lion and I, the sheep. Tell me, girl… since when does the lion stop its hunt to converse with the sheep?"

To Raven's eternal fury, she heard her tribesmen begin to mutter amongst themselves. She couldn't hear what they were saying, but a quick glance at their faces revealed all that she needed to know.

Doubt. They were beginning to doubt her ability to handle the growing situation.

Raven's emotions had already been frayed before this raid had even been planned, but instead of pacifying her aggression like she had wanted, her feelings of anger had grown to such an enormity that she could actually feel it burning a hole in her chest.

"I'll give you this old man," she growled. "Even as curled and brittle as it is, you have a bit of spine within you. But whatever you were earlier in your life, you aren't now, and you're playing a dangerous game that men your age should learn to avoid."

"I don't consider this to be a game, girl. I don't think so little of life the way you Branwen's do."

Raven's eyebrows shot up.

"So you do know us," she said, not at all surprised.

"Aye, I know you," Alban said. "You're Raven Branwen, Bandit Queen of the Branwen Tribe. A group of degenerate cowards who prey on those weaker than them. Strong? Don't make me laugh. You cowardly lot don't have an ounce of strength within you."

Raven's eye twitched and she could feel her temper spike even higher. Twice this old bag of bones had called her a coward, and twice he had insulted her strength. She was not going to take this.

"There's a reason why there are no men or warriors left to defend our village," Alban continued. "Because you and your tribe already killed them all."

Once more, Raven's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"What?" she asked.

"This village has gone unnoticed by you and your tribe of thugs for so long because it hasn't existed until recently. The actions of you Branwen's are what created this village. Every single person here has one thing in common, and that's you. They are all survivors of villages you've raided and plundered in the past, gathered here under my protection."

Realization quickly dawned on Raven as she turned back towards the crowd with visible surprise. Just as she had suspected, this little village knew them. They also knew the price of being their victims.

Raven felt a familiar emotion erupt from within her, one that threatened to put her in an even more precarious position within her tribe than she already was. She suppressed that feeling before it could begin to worm its way through her, especially as she began to see the additional emotion of grief staring back at her through the gaze of her past victims.

They had lost everything because of her. Their homes, their husbands, their valuables. This poor village they now occupied was all they had left, and though they did not have the strength to fight for it, they did have the will to resist any attempts to take it.

Raven shook her head slowly, forcing a disgusted look on her face that she did not truly feel. How she felt about them did not matter, it was over and done with. She could not turn away from them now and leave them in peace, such an act would be a sign of weakness to her tribe. As young as her reign was, that would be all the excuse any dissenters needed to try and usurp her position. Haldor would most certainly relish the opportunity since he had been looking for reasons to denounce her ever since she came back.

More than anything, she had to kill these weak emotions that held her back. Finishing an act she found distasteful now would harden her for all future acts to come.

"You don't know what real strength is, Raven Branwen," Alban said.

Her red eyes snapped back to the old man, only to widen in shock.

It was a trick. A Semblance, perhaps. But for just a fraction of a second, she swore she saw Summer standing right behind the old man as though she were his shadow.

Challenging her. Judging her. Lecturing her on what true strength really was.

"True strength is putting someone else before you. True strength comes from a desire to protect something no matter the personal cost. Because when you're forced to put yourself on the line for someone important to you? When you're put into a situation where you can't afford to lose? You find the strength to fight back like you never have before. Even the mighty lion will fight to the death to protect its cub."

What the hell was this? Had Summer's ghost taken over this village? Was she even now judging Raven from beyond the grave? Summer had lectured her with almost the exact same words once upon a time. Back when times were simpler… happier, even.

The reminder of such times brought out a painful ache of longing and sorrow deep in her heart. Accompanying it was pure rage.

She had come here to forget about Summer, not to be taunted by her ghost. To hell with any insubordination, she'd deal with it when it came. But this old man had to die.

"You think bullying a helpless old man makes you strong?" Alban continued, heedless of the murderous intent radiating from the woman before her. "Even my grandson can do that."

Alban made his first mistake in that moment. As soon as he referred to his grandson, he jerked a thumb behind his back and aimed it directly at the group of villagers standing behind him.

Raven's murderous red eyes snapped to the crowd. She couldn't tell which of the numerous children belonged to him, but it didn't matter. The mere mention of his grandchild had given her just the solution she needed to put this old fool back in his place. Whether he knew it or not, the old bastard had thrown down the metaphorical gauntlet and challenged her.

"True strength comes from a desire to protect, does it?" Raven whispered dangerously. "It would seem we have a difference in philosophy, old man. Shall we put our claims to the test? Our strength versus yours."

Alban stood straighter and Raven delighted in the flicker of confusion and worry that flashed across his eyes.

"Men!" Raven yelled. "Take all of the children."

The effect of her orders was immediate. At once the villagers all cried out in protest, while Alban's grip on his cane tightened as her intent became clear.

"If this magic strength of yours truly exists, then surely you will develop the power to repel us from stealing away the future generation of your village," Raven said. "Then we will see where true strength lies, old man. In the strength to protect, or the power to take."

Raven smiled in vicious satisfaction as her answer seemed to please most of her tribesmen, who grinned triumphantly as they moved into the helpless crowd.

Finally the villagers made an effort to stand up to the Branwen tribe, for what little good it did them. There were brief little scuffles and skirmishes with mothers clinging desperately to their children and some of the elderly making feeble attempts to fight back.

Her tribe dealt with the weak attempts quickly and effortlessly, striking and shoving the weak little villagers away and easily hauling out the now screaming and crying children. In just a few minutes all of the children had been rounded up and forced into the possession of the Branwen Tribe.

Throughout the entire ordeal, Raven's eyes had never left Alban's. Though it was his eyes she looked into, it was Summer she saw.

Where is your strength now, Summer? Raven internally demanded, as though her old leader could hear her from the grave. Do you see the difference in strength between us now? This is why you're the one who's dead and I'm alive!

"Th-The children have all been gathered up," April said, pulling Raven from her staring contest with Alban. "Raven... are you sure about this? They're just childre-"

Raven smashed her elbow into April's face, cutting off her protests before they could begin. The young girl fell backwards with a cry as blood spewed from her nose. Raven would have savoured the satisfying crack of the weakling's nose if she wasn't so annoyed that the idiot didn't even think to have her Aura up to prevent such an injury.

"Do not think to question me you pathetic little bitch," Raven growled as April clutched her bleeding nose, sobbing quietly. Turning back to Alban, Raven continued. "Now, old man. It seems your strength to protect failed to live up to your expectations. From this moment onwards, the children of this village are our hostages."

"You cursed cowards," Alban growled, his cane shaking under the strain of his clenched fists.

"Yes, yes, lecture all you want, it won't change the fact that you're too weak to stop us. Now, I know you have more valuables than this. Your village could not survive with so few supplies. But since you knew exactly who we were before we ever arrived here, I'm guessing you planned in advance and hid all of your valuables in a place where we couldn't find them, right? Well I suggest you go to your hiding place and gather up all of your supplies. Our camp is about fifteen miles southeast of here. Bring all of the supplies to our village before dusk, or you will never see any of your children again."

Raven turned away without bothering to hear a reply and commanded her men to begin their march back home. She ignored the faint stirrings of guilt as the children began to wail in terror upon being separated from their families.

"This is the way of the strong," she muttered to herself.

Raven felt a distinct lack of satisfaction coursing through her as she marched back towards the camp with the kidnapped children in tow. The expected rush and thrill of combat had left an unfulfilled void within her, one that was replaced with an altogether different and unwelcome kind of rush.

The philosophical conflict she'd had with that old bastard had caused her earlier feelings of frustration and anger to return with a vengeance. Worse, it had brought the memory of Summer Rose to the forefront of her mind.

Gods, what a complete waste of time that had been. The only solace she took was the knowledge that such a conflict would never take place again. She would kill the old man once he arrived at their camp site and then the rest of the villagers would die out in the famine that followed. With any luck, she would never have to deal with such ridiculous nonsense ever again.

The knowledge didn't bring her as much comfort as she wished. Regardless of whether or not she would have to deal with such defiance from a village ever again, she now faced the problem of dealing with defiance within her own tribe. Even as many of the younger Branwen's congratulated her on showing up the old man and reminding him of his place in the world, Raven did not fail to notice the disapproving glares of some of the veteran members.

"Raven," came the familiar annoying voice of Haldor.

Speak of the Grimm...

Haldor marched up beside her with visible disapproval in his single eye.

"Haldor," Raven sighed, more resigned than annoyed.

"That raid went poorly," Haldor said.

"Did it really? I hadn't noticed. Thanks for pointing that out, I'll be sure to look back on today's events and learn from it."

"Knock-off that sarcastic bullshit. I'm serious here. Taking the brats was too good for that miserable old cocksucker."

"What are you griping about? You always complained about not taking prisoners or slaves before. Now here we are doing just that and you have the gall to whine about it?"

"Taking the little shits of dried out geezers and their bitches ain't strength. There ain't no right of conquest in it. Taking because we can? Please, that's not true strength. True strength is fighting for the right to take. If a grown man takes candy from a little baby just because he can, does that make him strong? Course not. It makes him a coward that's too afraid of a real fight. We should've left that shithole village as soon as we saw they had no warriors. Now we have to make an example out of them."

Raven felt a flash of annoyance rushing through her at the insinuation of cowardice, but she did not rise to the bait. Haldor wanted her to lash out and she'd be damned if she let him of all people provoke her into an angry rage. Such an act would imply he had power over her and she wouldn't stand for that.

"If you wish to blame today's circumstances on anybody, then blame them on the village's senile elder," Raven replied. "He questioned our strength and our very way of life. What would you have had me do? Just walk away and let him escape with his slight against us?"

"I'd have set his fucking village on fire," Haldor growled. "Let him prove his bullshit code of strength without soiling our own. The way you dealt with that old prick is making you lose face."

"But I'm not losing my strength or my position. Let the entire tribe rise up in revolt if they wish, I'll put them all back into place."

"You won't stop the way they feel about you by stepping on their fucking toes every time they look at you wrong. They'll put a knife in your back the first chance they get. You need to calm them down."

"I don't need to do anything. I am their leader, they'll obey me or they'll die."

"Do that and you'll end up killing the whole tribe. Our leader is meant to keep us from falling apart, not drag us to hell just cause she can't take the heat."

"Be very careful, Haldor. I am not in a mood to be trifled with and you've pushed your luck enough with me enough already."

"You're the one who chose that path when you decided to let me live."

"Then maybe I should correct that mistake."

"Do it. You should've done it the day you took over the tribe. Do it right now."

They continued forward in silence with Raven making no move to draw her blade. She scowled when Haldor let out a small huff of laughter.

"You always take everything I say so personally," Haldor said.

"You're questioning my authority," Raven bit out. "That is personal."

"If that were true, I'd have killed you for taking over a long time ago. Like it or not, I'm only following our own code of strength. If that means nipping at your heels until you start to act like a leader, then I'll keep doing it for the sake of the tribe."

"Oh, how noble of you."

"Kill the old man when he comes to the tribe. Show the world what happens when you fuck with the Branwen's. The tribe won't care about it, the old prick has warrior's eyes. All warriors should die on their feet."

Raven actually agreed with Haldor on that point. She didn't give him the satisfaction of a response however, continuing the trek home in silence.

"Don't let the munchkins go either," Haldor continued. "If you don't want the rest of the world to start mocking us, then you need to show them the consequences for it. Keep the brats as slaves and let them grow up to be the next generation of Branwen's. The men will like having fresh meat around."

At the last sentence, Raven turned to look at Haldor. He was focused on a young girl who was walking near him, a lecherous grin on his face. Though facing away from him, the girl had clearly noticed his gaze and turned white under his scrutiny.

"After all," he continued. "Some of them look old enough to break in…"

His hand reached out as he spoke, aiming for the backside of a girl who couldn't have been any older than twelve.

The girl's physical appearance flashed for a tenth of a second in Raven's eyes. Auburn colored hair briefly turned blonde, while amber colored eyes turned a brilliant shade of lilac.

Rational thought left Raven in that moment, leaving only an infuriated woman moving on instinct. Her hand was gripping the hilt of her weapon in a heartbeat. But before she could draw her blade to cut Haldor down, his hand was roughly smacked away by a furious April, who had stormed in between him and the girl the moment she took notice of his intentions. It was enough to startle Raven out of her brief murderous intentions.

"Don't you dare touch her," April growled, her purple eyes flickering with the burning flames of the Spring Maiden's power.

For the first time since Summer's death, Raven felt pleased. It was about time the girl showed some backbone. Maybe now she'd learn to properly-

The back of Haldor's hand abruptly smashed into April's face, dousing the fire burning in her eyes and sending her crashing to the ground with a loud cry of pain. Her already broken nose was mangled even further, the previous flow of blood resuming.

Haldor kicked her in the midsection to send her rolling across the ground with a whimper. He kept after her, lifting his foot to repeatedly stomp on her.

"You don't fucking tell me what I can or can't do," Haldor growled as he viciously kicked April's curled up form. "Weaklings should know their fucking place, which is right where you are! Crawling around in the dirt under my fucking boots, you useless, cowardly little cunt!"

As Haldor lifted his foot to stomp on April once more, he was abruptly spun around by his shoulder. Raven's fist smashed into his face, snapping his head back and sending him stumbling backwards. He doubled over a second later when her fist buried into his midsection. Raven quickly took advantage of his bent over position to grip his head tightly in both hands and smash her forehead into his nose. A final kick to his chest sent him crashing to the ground.

"I've had enough of your shit, Haldor!" Raven roared, drawing her blade and levelling it at him.

The entire tribe and their captives had stopped to watch the scene unfold with the kidnapped children whimpering in fear. The Branwen's however were watching closely, clearly eager to see what action Raven would take.

Haldor glared defiantly at Raven as blood oozed out of his broken nose, gripping her blade with his bare hand and shoving it away.

"Do it!" he bellowed. "Show us all you've got what it takes to be a true Branwen! Cut me down right now! Fucking do it!"

Raven's hand tightened on the hilt of her blade as she considered killing him. She knew it was expected of her. Hell, she could practically feel the approving stares of the men that surrounded her, quietly urging her to go through with it and show that she had what it took to be one of them.

She sheathed her sword instead, earning an audible chorus of disgust from the men that surrounded them.

"You bitches listen close and listen well," Raven said in a dangerous tone, walking down the ranks. "I'm the one in charge here. That means I'm the one who decides who lives and who dies. I also decide what we do, when we do it, and how we do it. Any of you limp dick mother fuckers got a problem with that, tough shit. When you become strong enough to surpass me, then you can do things your way. Until then, you all do whatever the fuck I tell you to do. I say jump, you say 'how high', got it?"

The tribe murmured their agreement, even if the disapproval was still clear to see in their eyes.

Raven stopped before Haldor, eyes narrowed.

"Got it?" She repeated.

Haldor spat on the ground.

"You're fucking weak-"

Raven's foot lashed out, catching Haldor on the chin and silencing him. The giant of a man fell flat on his back and his body lay prone.

"Somebody drag this pathetic sack of shit back to the tribe," Raven commanded, turning to resume the march. "Or leave him out here to die, I don't care which."

Gods, what an annoying day this had turned into. She was just meant to raid, not deal with defiance first from a village and now from her own tribe.

You're making things complicated for me even from beyond the grave, Raven groused within her mind as she imagined Summer before her. She could almost see that cheeky smirk that Summer would always have whenever she was teasing her.

Once again, Raven felt that confusing rush of emotion that threatened to overwhelm her. It was a bitter reminder that she had utterly failed in trying to forget the loss she still felt.

Not for the first time, Raven cursed her days spent at Beacon. Loathe as she was to admit it, her time there had made her soft. She would likely need to take a firmer hand in her chosen lifestyle as a bandit if she truly wished to distance herself from the weak past she had. Perhaps when the day was over she would begin to make plans on starting such changes.

If only the day would end more quickly.

Raven sat brooding inside her tent as the time passed. The frightened expressions she had seen on the children's faces wouldn't leave her mind. It contrasted so sharply with the expressions she had grown used to seeing after she and her team had just finished saving a village from a Grimm attack. Worse, they reminded her of the daughter she had left behind. Yang wouldn't be that much younger than they were...

She let out a tired sigh as her body slumped in exhaustion. This damned bleeding heart of hers… She wondered if perhaps some of the tribe's senior members weren't right after all. She couldn't properly lead the tribe if she kept pussyfooting around the way she did. It had been what, five years since she had rejoined the tribe? More? She should have been past such emotions by now. Maybe she needed to start hitting the villages more firmly to harden herself to the act. Doing so might also have the additional benefit of distancing herself from the person she used to be.

She wasn't a Huntress anymore. That life was closed off from her now, if it hadn't already been before Summer's death. It was time she put away the last remnants of her old life. Maybe then the words of some random old geezer wouldn't dig into her soul so much.

Raven wanted to slap herself bloody for allowing that wretched old fool to rile her up as much as he did. Since when did a predator argue morality with its prey? She should have cut him down the very instant he refused to cooperate.

She should have cut down Haldor, too. The bastard had enough influence and respect to make even the lowest of their ranks doubt her capabilities as leader if she showed any signs that Haldor had warned them about.

Perhaps this day wasn't as wasteful or detrimental as she first thought. Maybe these acts of defiance were just what she needed to set her on the proper path to becoming the Bandit Queen she was supposed to be.

Always gotta look at the bright side, Ray!

Raven thrashed her head backwards with a snarl as she heard Summer's cheerful voice ringing through her head. She leapt to her feet and began furiously pacing back and forth, ready to tear her hair out by their roots if it meant getting that damned woman out of her head for even one hour.

She wanted to hate Summer. She should hate Summer. The self righteous, hypocritical bitch had made a damn mockery out of her every single time she had tried to bring up Ozpin's pointless war against a witch that couldn't be killed. Then Summer had the gall to judge her when she had decided that she wasn't going to be a part of that pointless crusade anymore.

Summer had even taken her husband and daughter for herself. Taiyang looked to Summer with eyes he had once reserved only for Raven, and now Yang, her daughter- hers! Called Summer mommy.

It had caused Raven such a fury at the time. For all that Summer lectured her about needing to stay for the sake of her husband and daughter, she sure didn't seem to mind taking that role up for herself the moment Raven was out of the picture.

"You damned hypocrite," Raven growled beneath her breath. "I'm glad you're dead, Summer. Do you hear me?! I'm glad you're dead! You deserved it, you miserable traitor!"

She felt the sting of hurt and guilt settle in the pit of her stomach like a heavy piece of ice as she spoke. She furiously stamped it down, doing everything she could to deny them. Would that she could cut herself open and let them spill away along with the rest of her guts. At least then she could get away from the emotions that warred within her.

"R-Raven?" came April's timid voice from the entrance of her tent, the girl still visibly wary of the older woman's wrath.

"What?!" Raven snarled, whirling to face the girl who shrank backwards in response.

"Th-The old- th-that is, i-it's the old-"

"Speak up, girl! Spit it out!"

"Th-The old man from the village is here! H-He brought a wagon of the village's supplies!"

"Has it been searched along with the old man? I have no patience for a simpering old fool trying to play hero."

"He has. W-Well, they have. Both of them, I mean. The wagon and the old-"

"I understand, now get out! I will be outside in a minute. Go fetch the brats and tell Vernal that she doesn't have to entertain them anymore."

Raven sneered at the girl as she stammered a pointless apology and tripped over her own feet, tumbling out of the tent.

Gods, how could the power of the Spring Maiden be given to such a pathetic weakling? The girl was a walking disgrace to everything the tribe stood for. Raven wondered if perhaps her willingness to house the timid girl was yet another reason the tribe did not respect her as much as they should. The girl had already spent five years among the Branwen Tribe with Raven personally overseeing her training, and she was no less of a doormat than she had been when she first arrived.

Raven's eyes narrowed as she considered possible solutions to that problem. She had taken the girl in solely out of gratitude for offering her the chance to learn the truth about the eternal war between Ozpin and Salem. But keeping hold of one of the Maiden's painted a target on the tribe, one that Raven was beginning to wonder was worth keeping the girl around for.

Even with all of that power at her disposal, the girl could fight no better than a frightened kitten. She'd be no help when it came time to defend the tribe if either Ozpin or Salem ever came for her. Yet, Raven was reluctant to give up such an awesome power so easily. If only it were in more capable hands…

A thought occurred to her then, one that sent a wave of nausea running through her. It would solve many of her problems. She'd keep the power within the tribe and better yet, she'd know for certain that the one wielding it could put it to infinitely superior use. It would also keep the rest of her tribesmen from speaking out of turn and give them more cause to fear her.

All she had to do was kill April.

The familiar sensation of guilt rose up from within her. Raven's expression darkened as she ruthlessly cast it aside, hardening herself. If this is what it took to finally kill the stupid naïve girl that she had become at Beacon, then so be it. Let her become a stone cold killer.

This was the Branwen way. Only the strongest would survive. It was past time that she accepted that and all that it meant. Strengthening her resolve, Raven moved towards the entrance of her tent, grabbing her dust blades as she walked.

First she had an old dog to put down.

Raven exited her tent with the hilt of her weapon clutched tight and her head held high. She resisted the urge to sneer at the sight before her; a defiant old man glaring at her, an insubordinate tribe silently judging her, an insecure weakling with power she couldn't use cowering before her, and a group of timid children crying for their mothers.

"Well now," she said, slowly descending the steps towards Alban. "I see that we have come out with your supplies in the end, old man. Wouldn't it have been so much easier and far less painful if you had just cooperated to begin with?"

"And leave my village to wither away and starve?" Alban growled. "Your very existence causes pain to every village you interact with. You can keep your damned mercy, you spiteful witch."

"Aww, that hurts my feelings you know."

Raven smirked at the old man, a condescending leer in her eye. Alban defiantly held her gaze, his steely eyes boring into her very soul.

"Empty the cart," she barked to her tribesmen before turning to April. "When the cart is empty, herd the brats on board and get them the hell out of my camp."

Raven waited patiently as the cart was unloaded, barely paying attention as Alban made his way over to the children to comfort them. Normally she would keep a close eye on her tribe as they handled the spoils, ensuring that the best items were reserved solely for her.

Today she just stared vacantly ahead with an expressionless face. It had been an emotionally trying day, but one Raven felt was ultimately necessary. It had put things into perspective for her. Loathe as she was to admit it, Haldor had been right. She had been too weak these past few years and too attached to her former life. Today was the day that attachment ended. Blood would be shed as many times as needed before the last of her former life was swept away and all that remained was a true Branwen, ruthless and strong.

Her attention returned to the present when she caught sight of April helping the children step into the now vacant cart, a large pile of loot now sitting beside it. Her red eyes narrowed on Alban as the old fool offered some no doubt comforting words to the children, before turning to slowly inch his way towards the front of the cart, ready to take them all home.

"I don't think so, old man," Raven said as she strode forward, grabbing onto the scruff of Alban's shirt and yanking him back. She took a rather perverse pleasure in the way he tripped over his own feet and fell to the ground, unable to compensate for the sudden force of being tugged backwards.

"The children may leave," Raven said. "You however will never walk out of this camp. You won't be walking around at all after today."

Alban grunted, weakly managing to lift his head from the ground and give her that fierce look one more time, clearly unafraid. Senile old fool.

"Grandpa!" came a young voice from the crowd of children.

A young boy on the cusp of his teenage years leapt out of the cart and started to sprint towards Alban. Raven stepped in between them, her eyes narrowed at the foolish brat.

"Best get on that cart and out of this camp, boy," Raven warned, hand on the hilt of her weapon. "I won't hesitate to send you back to your village in pieces."

The boy hesitated for only a moment, before growling and moving forward to meet her. Raven had to admit she was impressed that the boy was so ready to try and defend his grandfather. She could almost admire such an act if his tenacity wasn't so clearly inspired by his grandfather's foolish philosophy. Strength in protecting others… what a joke.

Raven tensed herself as the boy drew near, but Alban's loud voice boomed from behind her before anything could happen.

"Altan!" he roared with surprising volume. "Go! Now!"

The boy, Altan she supposed he was called, faltered for a moment. He glanced uncertainly between Raven and his grandfather, indecision clear across his face.

"B-But grandpa," Altan began.

"Off with you, boy," Alban commanded. "You've known this was a possibility for a long time now. Go. You are the eldest and the only one of the lot who knows how to drive a cart. The rest of the children need you to find their way back home. Go now, and don't look back."

"If you've both known this was to be the fate of your village elder, then you are an even greater pack of fools than I thought," Raven said. "You heard your grandfather, boy. Leave before I lop off your head."

Altan hesitated for just a moment longer, staring mournfully at his grandfather one last time. He eventually turned his gaze back to her with an intense hatred visible in his eyes.

His glare was almost as fierce as his grandfather's. Give the boy a few years of combat and it might grow to be just as intense. Raven idly wondered if she would one day end up killing the boy after all.

But that day wouldn't be today, as the silly little boy finally turned away with a huff. His shoulders were visibly shaking and tears ran down his face as the last of the children were loaded onto the cart.

"Goodbye grandpa," Altan said, staring ahead.

"Do me proud, boy," Alban replied while still lying on his back. He used every last ounce of his strength to crane his neck up and look upon his grandson one last time.

"How touching," Raven drawled sarcastically. "Now get the hell out of my camp, boy."

With a firm whip of the reins, Altan urged the horses forward and moved the cart toward the front gates. He didn't once look back, not even as he crossed through the opening of their camp and the thick wooden gates closed behind him, sealing him away from his grandfather for what would be the rest of his life.

"How sweet," Raven said as she stalked over to Alban, towering over him as he lay on the ground.

"Go to hell, witch," Alban growled in response.

"Heh. You first, old man." Raven reached down and gripped onto Alban's shirt to roughly tug him back to his feet, holding him in place until he was steady enough to support his own weight. Whatever he may be now, he was once a hardened warrior. That much was clear just from the look in his eyes. Raven respected that enough to allow the old wretch to die on his feet instead of his back.

"You were expecting this, were you?" Raven asked as she drew her dust wakizashi, taking pleasure in the way the metal sang as it was drawn. Alban stood his ground with a gaze that burned more fiercely than ever. He looked as though he was actually prepared to fight her. Raven idly wondered if he would try.

"I founded my village to save the victims that you and your gods-forsakened tribe have created," Alban said. "I knew you would come to us one day. That's why I spent every single day preparing my people for you."

"Not much of a preparation, was it? Your village is still minus all of its supplies and now they will be minus an elder, too. What was it you hoped to gain from this? If this was honestly the outcome you expected, then you must be the greatest fool to ever walk the face of Remnant."

Alban smiled at her. It was a soft smile, but the predatory gleam that glinted in his eye was enough to have her stiffen in place and send a small shiver running up her spine. She noticed that the rest of the tribe was affected by it as well. Several of their ranks shuffled in place nervously, while some even took a step backwards out of fear.

Cowards. He was an old man surrounded by an entire tribe of bandits. What the hell could he do?

"Kill me then, Raven Branwen," Alban said with a dangerous voice. "Kill me and we shall see who the greatest fool on Remnant truly is."

His confident demeanor once again had Raven frozen in a state of uncertainty. What was he plotting? Was he armed? No, April had confirmed that he had been searched before being allowed entry. The tribe also would have found any smuggled weapons or bombs in the loot as they unloaded it. There was no way he could have brought in any sort of weapon that could threaten her.

Still, something about the way he held himself was unnerving. He didn't look surprised or afraid at the possibility of death, not even a little bit. If anything, he seemed to be challenging her to do it. To cut him down and end his life. It was a look Raven knew well, mainly because she had given it numerous times herself.

She only gave that look when she knew she would have victory. When she was so utterly confident that she would emerge victorious that she didn't even bother trying to hide it.

Why did this old man have such an expression? Frustration and indecision began to war within her yet again. Gods above, this old man was a pest. He had succeeded not only in challenging her authority but had even inspired rebellion amongst her ranks. Now he was causing her hesitation in the simple act of preparing to kill an unarmed and frail old man.

Raven considered calling April over and confirming just once more that the old man had been thoroughly searched before being brought in. But such an act would surely make her look weak and afraid. Of an old man, no less. The decision was made for her when her hesitation became just a little too noticeable.

"What's the matter, girl?" Alban taunted. "Not afraid of a crippled old man, are you?" The infuriating old bastard tossed his head back and laughed, exposing his toothless gums and making Raven feel even more foolish for her hesitation. "Strike me down as many times as you wish, Raven Branwen. At the end of the day, it won't change the fact that you're a tribe of cowards who can only prey on those weaker than them."

"We weren't always like that!" Haldor's voice boomed from the crowd. "We fought for the right to take our spoils! We lived by the code of the strong! We never preyed on those who didn't have the strength to fight back!"

"Haldor," Raven growled as she stepped forward. She'd had enough of his insubordination. Before she could even begin to charge the disobedient twat, Alban turned to him with a glare just as fierce as the one he had been levelling at her.

"You honestly think that makes you any better?" Alban growled. "An entire tribe of weapon wielding bandits attacking a village without warning? Without even knowing if there are any warriors or Huntsmen present? Code of strength? Don't make me laugh! You're a group of toddlers stepping on ants and thinking yourselves giants! This tribe has been a tribe of cowards since the day it was founded. I've said it before and I'll say it as many times as I need to before it breaks through your thick, delusional skulls!"

Alban turned back towards Raven and threw away his cane, straightening his posture. He had adopted an expression so fierce that he looked as though he had grown several feet taller.

"True strength is putting your life on the line for something you must protect no matter the cost," Alban declared, his gravelly voice carrying heavy authority. "You wish for a demonstration of what that strength entails, Raven Branwen? So be it. I will destroy this tribe and you along with it!"

With a roar of pure fury that frightened the rest of the tribe into scurrying away, Alban leapt forward, his tired old muscles bulging under the strain as he charged.

Raven's own survival instincts flared, startled into action by the animalistic roar that Alban had unleashed. Moving more on instinct than rational thought, Raven leapt backwards, narrowly dodging Alban's grasp as his withered old hands reached out for her neck.

Once she was out of his range, she made her move. Digging her feet into the ground, she lunged forward with her blade held high. Giving her own animalistic snarl in response, she swung her sword downwards.

She knew it wouldn't end there, and cursed herself for her stupidity. Her own instincts had been warning her of this old fool ever since she first met him, but she'd let her emotions cloud her judgement and cause her to underestimate this old man. Clearly he still had some fight left in him, and if his constant lack of fear was any indication, he would not go down with just a single strike.

Except… he did.

Raven had expected a flash of aura or a Semblance of some kind, something that would stay her blade and keep the battle going. Instead, her red eyes widened in surprise as her blade found purchase in the old man's body, easily slicing through his withered old flesh like a hot knife through butter.

Raven turned to the side as Alban collapsed in front of her, as surprised by the fight's sudden end as she had been with its just as sudden beginning. She watched in confusion as Alban's corpse slid past her on the ground, leaving a grotesque smear of blood behind him.

It was over in a flash. Raven stared blankly at Alban's dead body, blinking rapidly as she tried to see something that she had somehow missed.

Then, she tossed her head back and laughed. It was an hysterical laughter that was full of disbelief, and grew in such intensity that she had to cradle her sides as tears began to form in her eyes.

"Oh, I…!" Raven chuckled between laughs. "I can't believe…! He really was just a senile old fool after all?!"

One by one, the members of her tribe began to laugh as well, slowly filtering back into the foreground. Though neither Raven nor her tribe would ever admit it, their laughter was filled with relief.

The withered old fool had really been quite convincing in his performance, Raven could concede that much. But had he honestly thought that such a bluff would work on her? This was the Branwen Tribe, a group of strength and warriors. As if such mental tactics would work on them.

Chuckling, Raven sheathed her sword and approached Alban's dead body. With zero respect for the dead, she kicked his corpse over, revealing his dead face to the sky above.

Her chuckling paused for a moment as she got a good look at his face. She had expected it to be frozen in a look of terror or shock that she was accustomed to seeing whenever she struck another warrior down. Instead, Alban's deceased expression was… smiling? Not only that, but his face looked peaceful. Relieved, even.

Raven frowned, more confused than ever. Had the old man held some kind of death wish? Or was his spirit truly that of a warrior, just like their own was? Had he just wanted a warrior's death all along?

She was pulled from her thoughts as something on Alban's torso caught her eye. Her sword had slashed open his cheap clothing and exposed his wrinkled old chest. Deep down the center of it, Raven noticed the thin and pale line of a scar. That wasn't what caught her eye, however.

As the rest of her tribe began to move in around her to rummage through the pile of loot, Raven kneeled down to inspect the corpse more closely.

There… just beneath the skin… there was the faintest glowing light. It was a blinking green flash, going off and on every second or so. Raven's head tilted in confusion. Was it some sort of pacemaker?

The green flash stopped suddenly, leaving Raven to blankly stare at Alban's chest for just a little longer.

"Boss?" one of her men said from behind her. "You want us to bury the old fart?"

Raven was about to turn and give her answer, when the flash of light beneath Alban's skin returned. Only this time it did not blink, and it was colored an ominous bright red.

Her eyes didn't even have time to widen as Alban's body expanded suddenly, and her world was eclipsed in a bright flash of white.

Raven awoke with a groan. She didn't know how long she had been out. It could have been an hour, it could have been just a few moments. All she did know was that her entire body was in agony. Her ears were ringing and the sounds of the world around her were distorted, and her eyes stung, blurring her vision.

She tried to regain her bearings and get a look of the world around her. Sword… She needed her sword. If she was in such a compromising state, even the weakest of her tribe could cut her down.

Through her blurred senses, Raven could just make out the world around her as she rolled onto her front, her entire body protesting even the slightest movement. Her hand weakly fumbled for the hilt of her blade as her stinging eyes processed what little they could.

It was difficult to tell exactly, but she could barely discern what looked like numerous bodies all on the ground alongside her. If the faint sounds she could hear were correct, some of them were also groaning in pain. She could see several fires in the background, all burning brightly.

What had happened…? What did-?

Her memory returned in a flash. Alban, the elder of the village they had tried to raid. His defiance, his pointless last stand, the scar on his chest, and the flashing light beneath his skin.

I knew you would come to us, one day. That's why I spent every single day preparing my people for you.

The memory of the flashing light turning red and his dead body exploding outwards, consuming the world around her in a bright flash of light.

True strength is putting your life on the line for something you must protect no matter the cost.

The realization hit Raven almost as hard as the explosion had. A bomb. The old man had actually implanted a bomb in his chest, all in preparation for her eventual arrival.

Even as she struggled to crawl onto her hands and knees, Raven knew there was only one type of person who could've so thoroughly prepared such a defensive tactic with such an advanced weapon.

Atlesian bastard… Raven internally growled, not possessing the strength to curse the old man with her own tongue.

She should have put it together sooner. His hardened warrior gaze, his blatant defiance of her, his frequent commands… Alban was once part of the Atlesian military, likely a veteran of one of the old wars given his advanced age, and clearly someone who still commanded Atlas's respect if he was able to afford such an extensive operation as putting a bomb under his own skin. How the hell did an Atlesian war hero become some random village's elder, and why was he so damned determined to end the Branwen Tribe?

Raven groaned loudly, her muscles screaming in protest as she slowly lifted herself from the ground. She barely managed to steady herself on her hands and knees. She could tell that her Aura had been completely drained. Caught point blank in the literal center of the explosion, she was lucky that she'd had enough sense to lock her Aura into place at the last possible second. But even with Aura, the power of the explosion had been enough to cause her great damage, and the same was likely to be said for the rest of the tribe.

The tribe… she needed to assess the damage. She needed to see just how badly they had been struck by that old bastard's last stand.

Glancing upwards, she could faintly make out the blurred outlines of just a couple of figures running back and forth around her, checking on the wounded. They were likely the guards stationed at the gates entrance, though Raven was glad to see that the walls surrounding them had survived the explosion-

The gate.

Raven felt a sinking feeling in her stomach as she slowly maneuvered her head around, trying to locate the entrance to the camp. Finally, her blurred vision settled on the unmistakable opening of the gate, the doors still wide open from the panicked guards thoughtless charging into the tribe.

There was no way the dark creatures around them wouldn't have noticed the explosion, nor the resulting negativity that was likely burning bright at this very moment, courtesy of their current misery and pain.

Raven barely registered one of the guards dropping to her side, saying something she couldn't make out.

She reached upwards with a trembling hand and grasped whoever it was by the shirt, dragging them down so that her mouth was hovering just over their ear.

"Fools," her voice croaked, barely louder than a whisper. "Close… the gate…! Grimm! Grimm!"

Whomever she had by the scruff clearly realised their near fatal error, and immediately leapt to their feet and began sprinting towards the opening of their camp while hollering something at the top of their lungs. Raven made out the remaining blurred forms of all who were still able bodied rushing together at the entrance, each of them gathering behind the heavy doors and struggling to push them shut.

Raven very nearly breathed a sigh of relief as the large doors slowly closed over the entranceway… until a loud, unmistakable howl filled the area around them. The ominous sound was spine-chilling even with her distorted hearing. Her guts turned to ice as her blurred vision caught the sight of the nearly closed doors exploding back open, tossing the guards backwards like harmless sacks of potatoes.

Through the newly opened doors, the hulking black forms of the creatures of Grimm streamed inward.

Fear and desperation threatened to tear at Raven's sanity, and her panic breathed new life into her limbs as she fumbled for her sword.

The Grimm sprinted forward and eagerly began tearing into the helpless victims that surrounded them. Raven's distorted hearing was soon filled with the sounds of animals snarling and howling while men and women were screaming and dying.

Raven's hand found the hilt of her sword just as a black blur began to sprint its way towards her. Her heart hammered in her chest as the distance between them rapidly closed. In utter desperation, Raven lashed out with her blade, aiming not at the creature charging her, but at the ground directly beneath her.

A red portal flared to life, her Semblance activating the moment her blade touched the ground. Without a thought to whom she had opened the portal to, Raven let her body fall into the swirling red cloud just as the terrifying black mass began to reach out for her with a clawed hand.

Raven immediately sealed off the portal the moment she fell through it. She felt her body crash into something, and could dimly make out a shrill cry piercing the air around her.

Groaning in agony, Raven glanced all around her in an effort to make out where she had landed. The first image she placed was a large black limb lying next to her, dissolving into mist. The Grimm had almost caught her.

Standing right above it though, Raven made out the tiniest form. A person standing at little over two feet, with a noticeable crown of blonde hair.

The figure was there for only a moment, before they turned and sprinted away with a shriek.

Raven felt her consciousness begin to leave her as the sudden stress and relief of her near death experience stole away the last of her energy. She was able to make out one final word through her distorted hearing, just before the darkness rushed in to take her.

"Daddy!"

AN: Alright, first chapter down. More to come. I honestly don't know how long the story will end up being, so I won't even try to guess how many chapters will ultimately be posted. If anyone is concerned with the usage of OC's in this first chapter, rest assured that this will not be an OC centric story. They were merely necessary to help set the stage for the rest of the story that is still to come. From here on out, we will be focusing on Raven and her life back in the Xiao-Long family.

I hope this was an entertaining read, and that this is the start of a new story for many readers to follow. I will try to upload as often as I can, but I'm still pretty new to this, so I can't really say when the next chapter will be posted. Just know that it is coming.

Please leave your thoughts, concerns, and criticisms in the reviews. I look forward to any and all input, so long as it isn't flaming or trolling.