Snowbird Week 2025

Qrow picked up his bird and threw his coat on. The winter winds howled outside and he shivered. The sun had barely come up, but he needed to go out and get some food for his family. The sagebrush didn’t offer much protection unlike a forest. The land was deceptively open. He knew the royals liked to come through here sometimes with their gyrfalcons, but this wasn’t optimal hunting land for large falcons. It was mostly fur here, not feather. Anyone worth their salt knew that falcons hunted feather most of the time, though those royal gyrfalcons could somehow be convinced to chase after jackrabbits. They weren’t the most delicious things ever, but they were good enough to keep him alive through the winter. He definitely preferred cottontails, but he knew not to complain at this point. He got on his horse and held Arden. The bird sat comfortably and quietly. Teaching a passage goshawk to hood was a tough task, but it was one he knew well by this point. His mother had taught him well how to handle goshawks, and how in her twilight years, he used the knowledge she had given him to help make sure she had enough strength to make it through the coldest months. Goshawks were not easy to train, but they were what he had the most experience with. Though he never flew a bird more than one season; he didn’t have the resources to put the bird up for the molt and keep it for multiple years. Best to just let it go and hope it survived more than a season. Eventually, they reached their usual hunting grounds and he unhooded the fierce bird. Immediately, Arden’s amber eyes focused and his head started to twitch and bob as he attempted to find anything on the ground. Thankfully, he had a dog with him. He made a hand signal to Hawthorn and she sprang off, sniffing around. He reined his horse around and held Arden tight. This was no fancy thought-animal, as he called them, the ones that could think just like a human. This was just a raw, pure bird, straight from the wild. Hard to handle, but an amazing hunting partner. Hawthorn went to a sharp point and stood still beneath a bit of sagebrush. He signaled to her then she let out a loud bark. Immediately, a startled grouse took flight. He loosed Arden and the bird was in hot pursuit of the grouse until, out of nowhere, a streak of white took the bird down. He swore loudly and whistled to Arden. The goshawk, well trained as they ever were, came back to the fist. He hooded and tied the bird immediately, going over to investigate what had happened to the grouse. A large, white falcon with the typical dark eyes sat there, mantled over the grouse. “What the fuck? What the fuck?! Get off mykill, ya mangy falcon!” He tried to scare it away and Hawthorn growled at the bird, but it refused to be dissuaded. He knew of only onecompany that used large, white gyrfalcons. He heard the jingling of tack and saw a white-haired woman, dressed in a thick cloak, approach on her horse. The horse was grey and dappled, no doubt of high breeding, unlike his run-of-the-mill mare. She dismounted gracefully and went over to the falcon which chittered, then hopped up on the glove. She picked up the grouse and glanced over at him. “Excuse me, who are you, and what are you doing here?” The falcon chittered angrily and fluffed out its feathers, mantling a bit. That had to be one of those fancy thought-animals… No normal bird would react like that. “I’m Qrow Branwen and you stole my fucking kill! I need that for my family! Hawthorn was right on the prey and your mangy falcon took it!” He knew he shouldn’t be losing his temper with who was most likely the princess, but he couldn’t help it. That grouse would go a long way to feeding him, his sister, and his mother for the day. It was a male, too; it was farlarger than a female. The woman looked at him coldly. “Whoever gets the kill first owns it.” “You still dun stole my fucking kill! My mother is ailing and needs whatever food she can get!” Between him and Raven, they barely managed to scrounge up enough grains, fruits, and vegetables for the winter. Every bit of meat helped them get through the harsh months. His mother had grown soweak the past several years. She was stubborn and tried to work, but as of the past six months or so, she’d been too weak to even get out of bed. She was probably on her way out, but she maintained her usual spirit. Something was wrong physically, but mentally and emotionally, she was still herself. The woman blinked. “What’s wrong with your mother?” “Like hell I have to tell some stranger.” He glared at her, light red eyes hard. “No, I mean it; I may be able to help. I have access to some of the best healers in the kingdom. I may be able to help her. I know I hunt for sport; you hunt for survival. Take the grouse, and lead me to where your mother is. We may be able to help her.” Qrow still didn’t want to let the stolen kill go, but he took the grouse and put it into his bag. “You better not be pulling my fucking leg.” The woman shook her head. “No; I’m not. My father may be a cruel king, but I am not his cruel daughter. People need help and I wish to help them when I can.” So he was right; this wasthe princess. “What’s your name?” He didn’t keep abreast of politics or pay any attention to things if they weren’t local. Aside from the royals coming out here to hunt, they had no impact on his life. Why bother learning their names? “Winter. Qrow, take me to your mother and I’ll see if my healers can find anything wrong with her.” He knew he probably shouldn’t trust her, but when else would get access to elite healers? Few rarely ever passed through his hodunk village. They were so far flung from the capitol… He just…couldn’t let this opportunity pass him by. “Fine. Come with me.” He went back over to his mare and got on her, reining her around and heading back to his house. Skipping on hunting betterbe good…