Forged Destiny [Book 7: Ch. 9]

The window swung open quietly.

Had I not been listening, I'd have missed it.

The figure was too light to be Qrow, moved too softly. It swept its legs up over the window without making a noise, body contorting to fit through the small space. He was but a shadow silhouetted against the moonlight. An indistinct shape of a man or a woman, little more. He or she paused on the sill, no doubt looking over each of them. Surprised, perhaps, by the additional person in the room.

The figure pushed itself off the windowsill and fell quietly onto the floorboards, crouching with one hand down to soften the impact.

The second they touched down, I moved. My feet – boots still on – slammed out for its face.

The figure recoiled at the sudden assault. Arms came up to block its face and light glimmered off a dagger clutched in one hand. Even so, the impact struck and knocked him back, throwing the figure against the sill. His top half almost fell out, but he caught himself.

Flat on my back, unarmed, my sword by the door, I threw myself at the man before he could get into a better position. Lurching up left me vulnerable – something he might have taken advantage of – but the room was also cripplingly small. I'd managed to grab his left arm before he could do anything.

—Forged Destiny [Book 7: Ch. 9]