Of all things, could assumptions be considered dangerous? With the expectations they bring, to fear the possibilities is inevitable. Why allow something to harm you when you can stomp out the threat before the pain? It just makes sense.

But what about when something happens that conflicts with these assumptions? When you expect the dark and dreary, why would you assume the bright and colorful? In that sense, I guess the danger is the delusion woven from assumptions, just because of the irreality one comes to associate with what they really want. One could run from these happy times and leave themselves in those of gray fog.

What an interesting foe, these assumptions…

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“Huh, I guess you’re not hundreds of years old,” I announced to the Grimm sitting in a basket in the cabin. “Well, maybe you’re just smart.”

The Grimm fluttered its good wing as if in annoyance.

“Hey, I don’t know what to make of you,” I whined in response. “I’ve heard about intelligent Grimm that come around because they’ve adapted over hundreds of years; however, that couldn’t possibly be you. Look.” I held up a large, thick book depicting the growth of a Nevermore that had started at about the size of a falcon, but ended up being fifty feet tall. “Grimm like you grow when they age, so that means the intelligent ones are the biggest ones. Since you’re so small, you’re somehow smart and young. If you were a person, you would be a complete package.” I chuckled.

The Grimm mimicked the sound and laughed with me.

“And you have a sense of humor? Man, I’m one lucky girl.”

I was sitting on the floor of the cabin, aka, my room. I had found an old copy of Creatures of Malice: A Guide to the Grimm and their Attributes a while back, and I was rather excited since it’s a top-class Grimm manuscript written by Dr. Bartholomew Oobleck and has so many first-hand accounts. When I brought home the dove Grimm, I had no idea what to do, so I dragged it out and started researching. At least, after I spent the usual hours of cleaning the house, doing my step sister's’ laundry, organizing the stores of Dust in the basement, cooking dinner, washing the dishes, closing the blinds in every room of the manor, and working on my own homework. The normal routine. I checked my Scroll (an older model Deino had thrown away the second an upgrade was released. I had fished it out of the trash) and the time read 11:48 PM. I sighed with relief: an early night.

The moment I got home, I found a basket for the Grimm and stashed it away in my cabin before starting on my chores. If my sisters found it, they would panic and flee for their mother, who would…

I shook my head. Currently, I was lying on the floor on top of a blanket, a pillow propped under my arms as I rested on my stomach. I had the book open in front of me as the Grimm stared at me with the small ledge surrounding the hearth. I cleared my throat and continued to read:

“While most Grimm show only basic instincts and malicious intentions, with those that have survived for centuries and grown to a massive size (pictured above), an interesting phenomenon sometimes occurs. The most present case is seen in packs of Beowolves where younger Grimm will follow the orders of an elder. It was theorized to be due to physical superiority, but while tracking one pack after a skirmish with Huntsmen, I observed an injured leader (dubbed as an Alpha) still lead its pack despite being weakened. In light of this discovery, I theorized that the pack follows an Alpha due to its experience and knowledge rather than pure strength. The only instant of variations occurs when an Alpha is challenged by another Alpha in a rare standoff, in which case the winner assimilates the pack of the fallen Alpha into its own.

“While packs of Beowolves can reach into the dozens or sometimes hundreds, this codependence is also observed in other Grimm, if to a lesser extent. A murder of Nevermore, ranging from between two and five, have been a major threat to Huntsmen in the past, mostly due to this grouping being comprised of ONLY older specimen. There are even species that cohabit with another, such as flocks of Manticores coexisting with those of Sphinxes.”

I broke off from the pages and looked back at the Grimm. It watched me with unblinking eyes, its head turning from side to side as if it was studying me. “Any of this sound right? Maybe you’re like the Beowolves and you follow some big ‘Alpha’ or something. For all I know, you’re a young Nevermore that strayed from its… what did they call it?... murder, which I must say sounds perfectly pleasant. Oobleck says they’re formed of just old Nevermore, but maybe they do that to protect the young until they grow? Is that right?” The Grimm was silent. I shrugged. “Only a guess.” I continued reading:

“By far the most fascinating instance of Grimm living amongst one another is the Apathy. An incredibly rare breed of Grimm, these specimens have the peculiar power of draining the will out of humans that come into close quarters with them. This power is amplified according to however many Apathy are present. I myself have studied the Apathy only a few times, and they are some of the most terrifying memories I’ve ever had. Their weaponized presences made every mundane decision an insurmountable challenge. I kid you not, even just moving a single finger seemed to be a chore at times. This, I have deemed, is the most dangerous case of cooperation between Grimm; simply their being is as threatening as any claw or fang.

“Even as they grow and age, the Apathy have no remarkable strength and they move at a tediously slow pace. They always move as a pack, so an establishment they come across is quickly void of emotion, but they are easy to fight with weapons built for long distance. These failings are the most likely reason the Apathy are so rare and live in the remotest of habitats.  I am still dumbfounded by something that happened only twice: a swarm of Grimm which included the Apathy.

“The first was an independent city outside of Vacuo, which was succeeding fairly well. I had stopped by while on my way to visit Shade Academy but the city was overrun by Grimm that very night. It was nothing that the local Huntsmen and Huntresses hadn’t seen before, but this time their weapons fell from their hands as an indescribable wail sounded from the swarm. For reasons I don’t know, the Apathy were among the invading forces even though they weren't known to live in the harsh desert climate. After evacuating and a feeble attempt at defending, the survivors retreated as the Grimm took control of the makeshift settlement, the wails of the Apathy piercing the night and lasting long after the creatures were left behind.

“The second instance was the more curious. I had been analyzing the Apathy at a distance for several weeks. I had found a pack in the forests of Mistral by accident, and I couldn’t pass up the opportunity. For the first week, the Apathy stayed within a mile radius of their habitat, which included a ruined city which had obviously been destroyed in a Grimm attack. Upon the dawn of the next week, I was awoken by a bird call to a surprise. The Apathy were suddenly on the move, heading west without any apparent hesitation. Their living quarters bore the marks of extended living, possibly longer than I’ve been alive, but these Grimm left like it was their duty. And so, my curiosity and naivety in abundance, I followed them.

“For almost a month, the Apathy carried on at their slow rate, but they seemed to know their destination. We never came across another civilization; the only thing interrupting their groans and cries being those of the local wildlife. I made notes and guesses about this sudden migration, but I was utterly clueless until I found their stop. It was a flourishing city in Vale with seemingly impenetrable defenses and renown for slaughtering masses of Grimm. Upon the arrival of the Apathy, hundreds or possibly thousands of Grimm stormed the city. It was a sight I’ll never forget, not just for the carnage, but because of the melting pot of Grimm that was assembled: Manticores and Sphinxes of Minstral, Beowolves and Ursa of Vale, Ravagers and King Taijitu of Vacuo, and even Sabyrs from Mantle. Dozens of different species of Grimm from every continent had congregated in an unheard-of, unified assault against a single settlement.

“I joined the fight, facing Grimm left and right, for over a week. With the Apathy, even the defenses of the city were dampened without their operators. Thankfully, we managed to exterminate most of the Grimm and chase the remainders away, but at heavy casualties of Huntsmen and civilians. In the aftermath, I learned from my associates that migrations of Grimm had been reported from various locations, but it had only been recently that they realized all of the creatures were gathering around the city. What still leaves me shaking, to this very day, is the time of each migration. The Beowolves and other swift, local Grimm hadn’t shown any unusual movement until a few days before the battle. Those of from Vacuo and Mantel started weeks in advance. But what leaves me still wracking my brain, trying pointlessly to draw a conclusion, is the fact that the Apathy I had been researching were the first to move. Whatever had called these Grimm together had accounted for the slow movement of the Apathy and spaced its call to the other Grimm so that they would all arrive at the same time. An appallingly genius move of strategy and timing, showing a firm knowledge of how fast each type of Grimm could travel and where they could be summoned from to draw the least attention possible.

“What could have assembled so many Grimm from across such a distance? What could have such instinct or knowledge as to accurately time this invasion? What could possibly be the-”

SQUACK!

I yelped and jumped as the small Grimm cried out suddenly. It’s gaze remained unchanged, but its feathers had become ruffled. I had been so enthralled in the book that I had forgotten what I was doing in the first place. “Sorry,” I told the injured Grimm. “I guess that doesn’t have anything to do with you. I just got carried away.”

I yawned widely as I marked the page and set it off to the side. The book hadn’t told me anything about what happens to an injured Grimm, or if they needed any specific living conditions, at least, not for whatever type of Grimm this tiny bird is. I’d skimmed all the books that had any information on Grimm but had come up with nothing. I had finally decided to just read one and hope I got lucky, but nothing had come out of it. It was still rather early compared to when I normally went to sleep, and the prospect of extra rest made my eyelids instantly sag.

I tried to fluff my worn pillow and rested my head on it, my arms crossed underneath. My eyes starting to close, I said, “I’ll look into it more sometime tomorrow. I’ll see if there’s anything about mending the wings of a regular bird. It’s better than nothing. Well, good night.” I closed my eyes and drifted off. A couple of times, I work up in the dim moonlight. I looked each time, and each time I saw the Grimm staring at me, unmoved from its basket.

For some reason, I wasn’t scared. I had brought a creature of destruction into my home, but I wasn’t frightened. It may have been that the creature seemed so harmless in its condition, but it was more than that. I had found this Grimm, broken and handicapped, among the roots of my mother’s tree. After I had asked her for answers and how I knew she would have replied with her tales of destiny. I know that she’s gone; there’s no afterimage of my mother roaming this planet and watching over me. Still, I couldn’t help but wonder if this was destiny. After everything that’s happened and everything I’ve been through, maybe this is what needed to happen. This single Grimm could be the next step of my destiny. I didn’t… I couldn’t stand the thought of missing out simply because of one detail. This Grimm was here, I wanted to see what fate laid out for me, and I won’t be scared off for once.

Watching the red eyes, I was lulled off to sleep and sunk into an unencumbered slumber.