Snow drifted to cover the forest in a powdery white blanket. A flutter of a shadow revealed a lone girl trailing through the woods like a ghost. Her silver-white cloak blended with the snow, but her dark hair and dress peeked from the folds. Snowfall filled the tracks her boots left behind.

A broken moon shone over a cabin in the middle of the woods. A careless huntsman had dropped a stiletto knife nearby. The hooded girl picked it up with a smile and etched onto the base of a tree: Summer Rose scattered here.

Summer Rose was not a liar. She slipped the knife into her bullet belt, and then her hand vanished. The door to the cabin opened with a creak.

Summer's hand reappeared, its pallor an eerie contrast to her dark sleeve. She entered the cabin, and the door closed behind her, plunging her into darkness.

Candles lit in the shape of a pentagram, and a beautiful woman with long, indigo hair rose from the middle of the star. Her voice was low and smooth, a legato melody that concealed malice and an unfathomable rage. "Welcome to my home, intruder."

Summer glanced around the candlelit room. Wood shifted, and the flames grew brighter, better illuminating the sorceress's lair. Huntsmen and huntresses lay on the floor in various states of consciousness. Most were unresponsive to the light, while others groaned, clutching their stomachs. "You're the witch of the woods."

The witch's purple lips stretched into a sneer. "Many call me that, though a witch is but a derogatory term for an unlicensed huntress with an aptitude for using dust. My name is Meng Baixue. My parents dreamed of a snowy holiday season when I was born."

"Would they be proud?"

"They are at peace," Meng hissed, "because they are no longer of this world of Grimm."

The shadowy monsters were drawn to the pain of Meng's captives. Summer whipped out a crimson glaive from the back of her dress. "Scatter, Rose's Thorns!" The hooked prongs of Rose's Thorns resembled bladed petals as the glaive followed a seemingly unpredictable arc, severing the Grimm wolves.

White hands coaxed the wounded huntsmen and huntresses to leave the cabin. Summer's head bobbed in front of a fearful huntsman. "Do not fear. I've come to rescue you."

"Your head—your body!"

Summer's mouth twitched into a smile. "My semblance is Scatter," she explained. "I can sever any part of my body for up to a few minutes at a time. See?" She popped off her nose like a famous character from one of her favourite fairy tales, and the poor huntsman screamed.

Meng drove a white dust crystal between the logs forming her wall, and ice burst into her home, sending wood splinters everywhere. Summer struggled to keep her balance on the icy floor. When she caught Rose's Thorns, she lurched forward and used her free hand to throw herself into the air, feet first.

Rose's Thorns followed another zigzag path, breaking the icicles that hung from the cabin's ceiling. Pale fingers guided the glaive in its complicated pattern. Heavy combat boots broke through Meng's indigo Aura. When the witch of the woods fell, blood trickled from her forehead.

As Summer's body pieced itself back together—legs, then torso, then upper limbs and finally her head and nose—police and paramedics arrived to take care of Meng and the huntresses and huntsmen. Summer did not stay behind for the repercussions. She scattered herself and followed Rose's Thorns deeper into the woods. A couple officers stared at the rose-like glaive and the body parts in the moonlight. One muttered, "Scattered moon does strange things. I heard people hallucinate more when the moon is broken."

A giggle sang through the cold night air amid the snowflakes. Perched on a branch, Summer took a bite of a cosmic crisp. Her favourite fruit was apples, and cosmic crisp, with its white speckles like stars, was her favourite kind of apple.