Endless Shadow [DISCONTINUED]

Chapter 1: Off The Edge

(Its about time chapter 1 at least got out.)

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3rd Person Pov

Dawn

A man hobbles through the dewy forest, his long duster tattered and worn, barely staying on him as he grips his injured thigh tightly, the culprit tree branch still stuck embedded in his leg. He had been searching all night for any form of usable shelter, finding none.

Finally running out of stamina, he collapses to the damp forest floor, crawling his way over the grass to the nearest tree, managing to at least sit up against the trunk. He gazed at his normally white hands, finding himself out of breath at the sight of all the blood. Old and new.

His pant leg was drenched hip to toe in his own blood, and he was still slowly bleeding, the only thing having prevented his death being the remains of his right sleeve, which he had torn off his coat to use as a basic tourniquet.

He found himself looking up at the dim blue sky, still brightening as the sun tried to peek over the horizon, the damp air heavy in his weak lungs, the smell of wet grass only overpowered by the stench of his own blood. His eyelids grew heavier and heavier, clawing at his vision as he battled to stay awake, his head listing to the right, unable to support himself.

Fighting through dim vision, he barely made out the shape of two small figures moving towards him, before his vision left him, and he fell to the floor.

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In another world entirely, a girl sits upright in her bed, blanket still covering her legs as she gazed out her window. Her eyes seemed almost to look beyond the beautiful fall afternoon outside, the orange forest surrounding her home in the clearing shining nearly golden in the sunlight. But her silver eyes didn't see any of it.

Her hair stuck out in random directions, unkempt and messy from neglect. She felt dirty, sweaty and gross, her body begging for a shower, but she didn't move. Didn't even really think about it. She sat there still, staring long out the window as her hands endlessly clutched the pendant of a rose given to her months ago.

A tone of simple knocks echoed through her room off the door, finally managing to snap her gaze away from the window for a moment, glancing quickly at the door as the person behind it didn't wait for a 'come in', opening the door and sliding in, shutting it again behind him.

Qrow: "Heya pipsqueak..."

The huntsmans tone was low, quiet, almost as of he was afraid his greeting alone might set off his niece. Luckily, and unluckily, for him, she didn't. She simply muttered an inaudible greeting before returning her gaze outside.

The huntsman quietly sighed to himself, scratching his nape at a loss for words. In any other moment, he would pull from his flask, but now just wasn't the time. He needed to say something though to at least try. What kind of uncle would he be otherwise?

"I know that talking to anyone is probably the last thing you wanna do right now..."

That earned more of a response, an audible, almost annoyed hum. He'd never heard something so out of character from his niece before.

"Ruby, you can't keep this up. Its been a full week since you woke up, and you haven't left that bed since...you're gonna destroy yourself like this..."

He gazed around the room for a short moment, an album of photos was discarded open on the floor, dust beginning to gather since it was dropped there, alongside several sketches of axes and a black journal with a peculiar silver symbol on it. A plate with last night's dinner sat barely touched on the nightstand by her bed, cold.