The Prince and the Dragon

Boots in the Mud

Yang never liked mud.

She despised it when it got in her hair.

It was a pain to clean when it got on her jacket.

And yet, as she slogged through the muddy terrain of the marshes in Northern Vale, dodging a barrage of razor-sharp feathers from the Nevermore at the opposite end of the marsh, she had decided mud wasn't so bad. On Jaune anyways. His usually immaculate armor tainted by the sludge and vegetation, face contorted in an expression of utmost concentration, his blonde hair tousled and marked by dirt. Standing tall in the knee-deep mud, shield up covering both of them, sword at the ready; to Yang, he was like the gallant knights of old she used to read in her childhood fables and fairy tales.

Jaune, sweat glistening, spat mud from his mouth and began to bark orders to Pyrrha, who was currently taking cover behind a boulder from the latest volley from the Nevermore.

"Pyrrha, swing far right, flank it from the left, I'll draw the fire!" he shouted, then turned to Yang.

"You go left," he hissed as another feather glanced off his shield, "The Nevermore's more concerned about me and Pyrrha, it thinks we're more dangerous 'cause of the armor."

Yang gave him a pointed glare, "You're saying I'm not as threatening as either of you."

"Yep," Jaune smirked, "Unless of course you show me otherwise."

Yang was silent for a moment, still glaring at Jaune for his attempt at friendly banter. Then her own smirk grew on her face, the competition lighting a fire in her gut.

"You're lucky you're good-looking, or I would've knocked you out," she drawled, standing up straight and tall, once again the proud brawler of Signal Academy.

Jaune chuckled, eyes focused back on the Nevermore, who screeched in defiance.

Yang sprinted from the ditch, sprinting from rock to rock, leaping silently from behind the numerous long grasses and reeds. Slipping unseen to the left side of the Nevermore, she observed the injured Grimm.

A little over 2 hours ago, the trio had landed in a small village in Northern Vale beset by Grimm invaders. In defense of the town, the group battle with vigor and ferocity. Sometime during the battle, Pyrrha had shot an incoming Nevermore, the avian creature careening into the marshes a few clicks north of the village. Seeing as the marsh was an important part of the village due the abundance of ducks and other waterfowl, the mission to rid the town of Grimm was not done until this last pest was eliminated. But as they trudged to the supposed impact point, they found that the Nevermore had not died, much to their surprise. Injured and bruised, the Nevermore remained defiant and ferocious, desperately fighting off the trio with feathers and roars.

And that had all accumulated into this moment. Yang waited for the Nevermore to commit itself to the two shield bearers standing in the bog. The clang of sword on shield as Jaune surged forward, bellowing in some foreign tongue, grabbing the attention of the monstrous bird. Pyrrha froze, staring as if transfixed at Jaune's moment of madness, then moved forward, following his lead.

"Hei du Stéck Schäiss!" Jaune screamed, "Aen hei!"

"Ορίστε, θηρίο!" Pyrrha cried, heaving her javelin at the bird,"Επιστρέψτε από εκεί που ήρθατε!"

The Nevermore screeched in response, raising its uninjured wing. With deadly velocity, it flung feathers at the advancing students. Both braced behind their shields, the feather bouncing off the metal. But as Yang got ready to leap from cover, she heard the sounds of crunching metal. Glancing into the clearing, she watched as one of the arrow-like feathers pierced the space in between Jaune's chest plate and shoulder pauldron. He had put down his shield, but the Nevermore had predicted that the two would hide behind their shields. As such, it had reserved some of its arsenal, firing its barrage when Jaune put his shield down to charge.