OH, HEY GUYS, LOOK WHO STARTED WRITING AGAIN.
Weeeeell, I thought I had a handle on the plot for this… then I started finding stuff I missed and realized a lot of said plot was built around something of a plot hole, had I had to scrap all of my outlines.
BUT, that being said, I finally figured my crap out, and this thing is back!
Now, I have to say, updates might take me loner than a week, but typically shouldn't be more than two, but stuff happens and my life just took a one way ticket to hell recently, but I will do my absolute best not to leave you guys hanging for too terribly long, and I'll try to warn you if a chapter takes a while.
At any rate, though, here's the first one! Enjoy and please tell me what you think!
"Again! Higher! C'mon, lass, less defense more offense. Use your flight to your advantage!"
Willow grunted, flipping the bo staff at the Pooka once more, but his block seemed to be no more than brushing away the wooden staff.
Not long after her transition to immortality, Bunnymund had stepped forward and asked Willow if she would like to learn to fight. Willow, thinking back on how defenseless she was as a human, wasted no time in accepting his offer.
The first thing the rabbit did, was fit her with a weapon. Obviously, his boomerangs were more of a custom weapon, but when she attempted to use them, she only succeeded in looking like an idiot. She didn't bother with a sword, and archery wasn't really her forte, either. Throwing knives were never even considered, for obvious reasons, so Bunny finally looked to something simpler.
A bo staff, as it was technically called, but if one was honest, it was a stick. Thinking to how the girl has a remarkable skill for defending herself, he thought it would suit her better than the more offensive weapons.
Well, he was half right.
She wielded the staff with much more ease than the other weapons, but she had done so poorly with them, it was still a wonder she wasn't hitting him or herself.
She was getting better with it now, learning how to use it to block, instead of moving out of the way every time, but it was difficult for her to pull away from the defensive and try to attack herself.
"Ugh!" Willow wheezed as Bunny's foot hit her in the stomach and knocked the wind from her lungs. She fell back and skidded on the soft grass once more.
Bunny's shadow fell over her as she gasped for air, a soft paw extending down to her. She accepted his hand and he pulled her to her feet.
"You did better that time, but ya can't just block me the whole time. You need to balance your defense with your offense. And lass, you can fly! Use that! You can't hit what you can't reach." he told her, waiting patiently as her breathing evened out again.
"I know I know, it's just taking me longer to get used to than I thought." she replied, thick strands of hair glued to her face where they had fallen from her ponytail. "I've just spent so much of my life dodging instead of hitting. Old habits die hard, I guess."
"Those 'old habits' have been fightin' ya the whole way, but you're getting better." Bunny said, glancing at the sheen of sweat that lightly covered her olive skin. "'Bout time we stop for the day, though."
"Really?" Willow said, sounding almost disappointed, but on the inside, she was screaming Thank god!. Though, she couldn't help but notice how early he was dismissing her lessons.
"Don't wanna send you back with heat stroke. Frost might decide to cover the whole Warren in snow. Again." he said, mumbling the last bit.
"Again?" Willow questioned.
"Oh, it was back a couple decades after '68. I was tryin' to get even after the blizzard, because I didn't know why it happened until a few years before Pitch." He suddenly looked away. "I, um, mighta dumped some of the glitter water from the river in the little pond in the woods before it froze, and it stuck to 'em whenever he touched it."
Willow just stared at him for a moment, shocked that he would do something so… childish. She broke into one of her rare giggles.
"You put glitter in his pond?" she repeated, still giggling.
Bunny's ears dipped down as he studied the grass, the act of silly childishness bringing heat to his, thankfully fur covered, face. "The kid didn't stay in one place long enough for anythin' else! It was better than painting his staff pink, because that was the only other thing I could think of!" he countered defensively.
She had no answer for him, to consumed in her fit of laughter.
"Aw, pipe down. It was a long time ago, and… who am I kiddin', I got nothin'." he sighed, giving up.
Willow shrugged, scooping up her jacket from where she had discarded it earlier. "Well, I throw rocks at him to get back at him. Same difference."
"Yeah, he told me about that. Said ya dropped a whole storm of 'em on him once." Bunny chuckled.
"Sounds about right." Willow agreed. She glanced at her watch, still preferring the cheap digital one to the shiny new one North had offered her. "I should probably go soon, unless you want Jack coming here."
"Ah ah, nope, get outta here. I barely keep the little nuisance out as it is, I don't need another reason for him to be here." Bunny said quickly, shooing at her.
"Hey now he's not all that bad." she said, her wings bringing her a few feet off the ground.
"Yeah, come back and tell me that when he interferes with your job, Avalanche." Bunny smirked at the nickname.
"For the last time, it was an accident." she groaned. She was never going to live that down.
"Mh hmh. Now get on, this place is still nice and warm."
"Whatever you say, Boss." she said with a mocking salute, then turned to one of the tunnels to leave.
Before she started training, she thought the only way in and out of the Warren was though Bunny's tunnels, but after the first couple times she had gone, he showed her how to navigate the permanent ones the eggs used at Easter. Under the condition she didn't tell Jack where they were.
She agreed, if nothing else than to taunt the Spirit with the knowledge, and Jack hated every bit of it. But he eventually left her alone about it, not sure if it was her or Bunny he should be more concerned about.
Little snatches of sunlight from the would above provided just enough light to see in the fragrant, mossy paths, seemingly only a couple of feet below ground, but once she exited the tunnels, she could no longer sense them within the earth, only the nearby openings. She assumed it was some kind of magic, because only immortal beings could actually find and use the permanent openings.
The air around her seemed to drop in temperature faster than possible, like a figurative wall where the warmth stopped and the cold began, and she pushed her arms into her jacket backwards, so the hood was in front of her and her flying wasn't deterred. The tunnel to Burgess had a small raised X next to it, where she had moved the earth so she knew where to go. Otherwise, she would get lost in the Labyrinth of tunnels.
The world rushed up to meet her as she flew away from the tangle of tree roots that concealed the hole, and the crisp winter air filled her lungs.
The snow on the round was nearly gone, as Spring was on its way, but the brisk chill lingered over the small Pennsylvania town.
Sunlight streamed through the thinning could bank in long ribbons, striping her skin with light flashed with honey bronze and she flitted through them. She pulled her hair free from the braided band, letting the wind dance through the knotted waves and relishing the cool buffet of the breeze against her overheated body.
Tiny dots of green had begun to dot the trees a few days ago, and she could now make out tiny leaves beginning to unfurl as nature began its newborn life again. She idly thought she should draw the pond again while the leaves were still small, so she had the transition of winter to spring as well.
Her feet touched the ground lightly at the shore of the small pond, touching the surface with her finger and giving a small smile as the freezing water rippled gently, the smooth lines rolling across the water without disruption.
Jack wasn't here as he normally was, though it wasn't the first time, so she pulled her sketchbook from the hollow tree with a stone nestled up against its trunk. She had no need to carry her bag around anymore, so she kept it in the tree now, hanging from a rough hook she gouged out a few months ago. Two of her sketchbooks, a pencil bag, and her phone. She didn't use the phone anymore, and it wasn't like she could continue to pay for the service, so she just left it in her bag for music.
She also withdrew the ancient slide phone, the screen lighting up as her thumb moved over the keys. After a passing comment she hadn't thought anyone heard, North had asked for her phone, returning in the next day. He told her he replaced the battery with some kind of solar-nuclear battery. She asked what that was, having never heard of such a thing. Apparently it recharged on solar energy, and the battery lasted longer.
Even now, she had no idea what he had said, but she was grateful nonetheless.
The quiet afternoon was filled with the soft notes of the music from the tiny speaker on the back of the device, adding the final touch it needed to make the woods perfect. Willow flipped to a clean page, lightly tapping the rock with her fingers to the beat of the song.
This town is colder now, I think it's sick of us
It's time to make our move, I'm shaking off the rust
I've got my heart set on anywhere but here
I'm staring down myself, counting up the years
Steady hands, just take the wheel
And every glance is killing me
Time to make one last appeal… for the life I lead
Willow hummed softly along with the melody, her pencil lightly laying down the lines for the pond and trees, the shapes rough.
New trees had sprouted on the opposite side of the pond, swaying only a few inches tall, but if she was persistent, she would get to draw their progress until they were as tall as their surrounding kin.
Around half an hour later, piano played again, and her hand slowed to a stop.
Eighty nine cents in the ash tray
A half empty bottle of Gatorade, rollin' in the floorboard
That dirty Braves cap on the dash
Dog tags hangin' from the rear view
Old Skoal can and cowboy boots
And a Go Army shirt, folded in the back
This thing burns gas like crazy, but that's alright
People got their ways of coping, oh and I got mine
Willow's fingers fidgeted with the edge of her paper, the drawing long forgotten. She hadn't listened to this song in years. It always reminded her…
I leave that radio playin'
That same 'ole country station
Where ya left it
Yeah, man I crank it up
And you'd probably punch my arm right now
If you saw this tear
Rollin' down my face
Hey, man I'm tryin' to be tough
And momma asked me this mornin'
If I'd been by your grave
But that flag and stone ain't where I feel you anyways
Memories flashed through her mind, images of her father, the gold valor medal, the dog tags recovered after the explosion, bloodstained and cracked. Her hands moved to her neck to fidget with her necklace, her fingers worrying the smooth crystal and her mother's wedding band.
The marble cross in the Troop Cemetery.
Tears pricked at her eyes, and she fought to keep them in.
I've cussed, I've prayed, I've said goodbye
Shook my fist and asked God why
These days when I'm missing you the most
One tear managed to squirm free of her willpower, and the song ended. Whatever song played next was lost in the haze the rest of the world has fallen into. She slid from the stone, reaching into the tree and pulling out the gray canvas bag. She dug in it for a moment, before her hands met a rough edge. She pulled it out, the two pieces of metal clinking on the ball chain.
Timothy Bronwyn was stamped into one tag and 2215 was in the other. There were other things written in, but the grime and missing pieces made it impossible to read.
A sad smile unconsciously slipped onto her face, and her thumb ran over the damaged tags. Little tidbits ran through her mind, how her father had loved country music, how he would teach her to draw, how they would laugh when he attempted to sing and tease how he sounded like a dying cow.
Some days, before she had been chucked head first into a world of living legends, her heart would ache and she missed her father more than anything. More times than she would care to admit, she cried herself to sleep clutching his military jacket, the scent of wood shavings, coffee and his cologne clinging to the thick fabric.
The tags were slipped back into the bag, and she shut the music off. Her sketchbook was flipped closed and put aside, leaving the tranquil silence as it had been before.
Not sure what else to do, Willow stooped over and picked up a handful of the dirt and gravel. She picked through the small stones for a moment, sorting them by color in her palm. There were three a dark reddish color, four light gray ones and six or seven indigo stones.
She was getting better at controlling her powers, learning to manipulate more earth at once, or in more intricate patterns. A different stone bracelet curled around her bicep once more, the swirling patterns changing regularly for practice.
She had also figured out how to change the colors of certain types of rocks. North had ideas of how this was possible, running along the lines of molecular compositions and energy variables.
Or, in simpler words, more things she was at a loss to understand. She had been a good student while still in high school, almost straight A's, save for Trig, which usually held a low B. But all these complex theories and ideas were well out of her comprehension.
But complicated mathematics aside, it was always fun to experiment and see how far she could push the color changing. Usually she couldn't do much more than make the color lighter or darker, more or less vivid. With the exception of white or clear rocks, which she could make pretty much any color without much difficulty.
She discovered this by accident when she found, if she concentrated hard enough, she could actually pull raw diamonds and other gemstones from the earth, though never in large quantities and she usually only had the energy to do it once at a time.
She didn't really bother with the gems much, though, they didn't mean much to her, value or otherwise. She carried exactly one small, white diamond in her pocket for experimenting.
But now, her attention was on the colored gravel. The indigo rocks began to quiver ever so slightly, and their color brightened into more of a light navy. Next, the gray rock shifted to a slightly dusty white. The mahogany colored ones darkened to a near black shade.
Then, all three little groups rippled and seemed to melt in her palm, the blue collection crawling into three ribbons, twining around her arm in a pattern resembling a loose braid. Then, the white slid down to dot the band with tiny, simple snowflakes and the black came to accent the centers with a smaller version of the white flakes.
Satisfied, she flipped her sketchbook back open and started sketching in the individual branches of the trees.
"Not bad."
Willow started at the low voice, a thin line streaking across her paper, and she turned to see a boy with a blue hoodie and a mop of bleach white hair. A hooked wooden staff was grasped in his hand, and light blue eyes sparkled with mischief.
"Jack…" Willow grumbled, slightly irritated the Winter Spirit managed to get the jump on her.
"Sorry, couldn't resist." he grinned, not very sorry at all.
"And to think I did something nice." she said vaguely, dramatically flicking her hair at him and turning the other way.
"What did you do?" Jack asked, his curiosity peaked. "Show me!"
Willow remained silent, though a grin he couldn't see tugged at her lips.
"Please, Willow? Please? Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplea-" Willow clapped her hand over his mouth, rolling her eyes and grinning at the inner puppy Jack truly was.
"Fine. Hold out your arm and close your eyes." she commanded.
Jack cocked an eyebrow, but did as he was told, his snowy blue eyes vanishing. Willow wrapped her fingers around his wrist, the snowflake bracelet holding its shape as it unfurled from her wrist and coiled around his. It tightened to fit against his skin, and Jack's eyes flicked open when he felt the stone touch his arm.
"Hey, that's cool!" he said, lifting his arm for a closer look.
"Not too girly or anything?" Willow asked, a crooked smile on her face.
"Nah, they're just snowflakes. And last I checked, I'm a Winter Spirit, so it's not like anybody can really say anything about it." he shrugged. A layer of frost spidered over the bracelet, causing it to glint in the sunlight. "…well, maybe now, since anything I wear gets a natural glitter."
Willow laughed at Jack's face as he twisted his arm, half glaring at the sprinkle of rainbow hues dancing along the contours of the stone.
"Well, you can come to grips with your manhood later. " she leaned in close, her face only a few inches from his. Jack was surprised by her behavior, though certainly wasn't complaining, and began to close the gap. That was, until her hand came up and smacked him in the shoulder.
"Tag!"
Jack chuckled, taking off after her as she flew into the sky. Over the past few months, he saw a shift in her demeanor and view of life as a whole. The Willow he had first met was very cynical and closed out the world, pushing everyone away and having a very detached mood in general. Ultimately, she warmed up to him, but the austere cloak remained.
But now that she had become a Creature, she had seemed to shed her melancholy shroud, bearing light into the happier side of her he hadn't seen before. She was still the same cynical, distrusting, and stubborn to all hell introvert, but it didn't dominate her anymore. A certain flavor of calm euphoria that only Willow could have now took its place, and it was clear as day that a burden had been lifted from her.
This new, happier, Willow suited the young Guardian better, if one was honest. Now, she would start snowball fights, games of tag or, her favorite, keep-away with his staff, which she usually won, as he couldn't fly without it.
Tag, however, was another story entirely, especially as she started off in the sky.
The wind immediately changed directions, pushing back the slender girl, but not affecting him at all.
"Jack, that's not fair!" she shouted, dipping into a dive. It always made him nervous when she would dive. She hadn't been flying for long, so he always worried she wouldn't level out in time.
But she did, as always. He really didn't need to worry, he was well aware Willow could handle herself just fine, but he did nonetheless.
Though, he didn't worry long, because he was right behind her again, easily reaching forward and tapping her leg.
"Tag!"
"You are such a cheater! You know you fly faster!" she protested.
"But you're the one who started tag!" he pointed out, taunting her by flying backwards just out of her reach.
Or so he thought.
All of a sudden, she shot forward with a burst of speed, grabbing his ankle and pulling him toward her with the added strength her change had givin her. The only flaw in her plan, she still wasn't quite used to her strength, and she actually wound up yanking so hard they both went tumbling down into the thinning snow below, landing in a tangled heap of laughter.
Willow shoved her knotted hair from her face, the ruffled mess glinting like a penny in the sun.
"Tag." she whispered, her breath clouding in wisps of fog as Jack panted beneath her. His hand slid into her tangled hair with a firm grip, leaving goose bumps over her olive skin in his wake. Her fingers were also wound in his hair, though her touch was a great deal lighter than his. His other hand traced her jaw line, leaving icy blossoms of frost to mark its path.
"I didn't know you could fly so fast." he murmured.
"I can't." she grinned. "I was slowing down the whole time, but you didn't notice, so you slowed down, too. I sped up when you stopped paying attention."
Jack sighed and chuckled, shaking his head as she managed to outwit him again. "One of these days you're going to run out of tricks."
"Then I'll just have to make some new ones." she answered, smirking.
"Mh, well see about that." Jack's head lifted from the snow, meeting Willow's lips in the air. He felt Willow's fingers tighten against the feathery strands of his hair, her other hand resting on his chest.
"So," she said, rolling off of him once they came up for air. "What do you want to do today?"
"I dunno." was Jack's ingenious answer, the shrug of his shoulder furrowing the snow beside him.
Willow rolled her eyes and sighed. "The least you could do is use actual words." she muttered.
Jack grinned triumphantly, knowing she would nitpick his grammar like always. Once he figured out how much of a grammar nazi she really was, he went out of his way to speak as incorrectly as possible.
"But then what would you OCD spazz over?" he asked.
"First of all, "OCD spazz" is not a verb, and second, I have plenty of things. The only person who is allowed to openly butcher the English language, in my world, is Dick Grayson." she said very matter-of-factly.
"Dick Grayson? Isn't that the kid who Butch Wayne took in and is Sparrow or something?" he asked.
Another eye roll. "Yes, Dick Grayson was taken in by Bruce Wayne and his hero name was Robin before he became Nightwing." she said, and Jack just looked at her. "What?"
"Do I even want to know how it is you know that?" he finally asked.
She shrugged it off. "It's just from an old cartoon."
Jack didn't ask any more questions, knowing he would end up far more confused than he already was.
All of a sudden, Willow shot upright, then stood very slowly.
"Willow, what are you-"
"Shhh!", she silenced his question.
Her wings fluttered softly, making no sound as her feet carefully lifted from the ground. She stayed low as she flew to the hollow tree opposite the clearing, quietly pulling her sketchbook back from the bag, along with a small box. She returned to her place beside Jack.
"It's a Pompadour." she whispered quietly. "They're an endangered species. It must be migrating." she said, pointing out a small, burgundy feathered bird with sparse white and black markings and white tipped wings.
Her hand moved quickly as she sketched the bird, said bird seeming very unconcerned with them and barely moving at all.
Once she had jotted down the outline, Willow opened the box of colored pencils she now kept in the bag. The beautiful colors of the Pompadour's deep red and magenta feathers were hastily sketched in, just enough to tell which parts were which colors. As she was scribbling in the black on its wings, the bird spread its wings and flew high over the trees, disappearing from sight.
Jack glanced at the book with the rough drawing of the bird, then at the girl still staring into the sky where the tiny creature has vanished. "Okay, can I ask what that was all about?"
She glanced back at the drawing on the page. "When my father would teach me how to draw, he had me draw the birds in my backyard. Once, we found a baby Pompadour, and he actually got a sketchbook and drew it, too." she explained. "I guess it's just special to me."
"Oh." was the only response he had, giving the drawing another, more thoughtful, look.
She stood, flipping the book closed. "Have you seen Tooth lately?"
"Um, no?" he replied, more a question than answer. "Why?"
She shrugged. "It's nothing, I just haven't been seeing very many of the little Tooth Fairies around, lately. Actually, I haven't seen them at all in a month or so."
"Hm, I hadn't really noticed."
"I suppose it's nothing, though, now that I think about it, I haven't seen Sandy in a while, either." she mused.
"Well, why don't we drop by the Tooth Palace. I'm sure she won't mind, and I bet Baby Tooth'll be glad to see us." he suggested, standing.
"Good idea. It'll be nice to see them again after so long." she agreed.
"Race you!"
(*)
A low thud echoed through the palace of multicolored marble, the stone of unimaginably bright jewel tones shining brightly in the light. Willow's landing was less than graceful, though understandable despite its rarity. She immediately collapsed to the floor in an exhausted heap.
"Okay, next time, we start the race once the palace is in sight." she said between pants, relishing the cool sensation of the marble beneath her.
"Fair enough." Jack chuckled, not the least out of breath.
"Damn straight! The wind does all the work for you! I'm stuck with a marathon sprint, on my back!" she exclaimed, standing. Jack, however, was only half paying attention. "Jack?"
"Look."
Willow followed his gaze, and saw gold filigree, bejeweled columns and insanely detailed architecture.
But that was it. No little Tooth Fairies and no chipper Guardian.
"Hello?" she called, her voice bouncing through the empty air.
"I guess nobody's home." Jack commented, looking around the empty palace as well.
"That's weird." Willow said, running her fingers over the flamboyant embellishments of a nearby column.
"Why don't we go to the Pole and see if she's there. If not, we can always ask North." Jack suggested.
"Are you sure you don't want to poke around for a minute? It's really strange that this place would be this empty." she asked.
"If Tooth was here, she'd now we were looking for her by now. C'mon!" he urged.
"What's the rush, I'm sure the Shop isn't going anywhere anytime soon." she questioned, giving the Winter Spirit a peculiar look.
Jack fidgeted his fingers on his staff. "Um, nothing, it's just kind of boring talking to nothing."
She raised an eyebrow questioningly, but didn't ask any more questions as she followed him into the sky, but she knew something was amiss.
After the last months of practice, she was able to fly herself to the Pole without assistance, though it did leave her a bit weary afterwards.
The trip north was almost completely silent, and on Willow's side, that was not unusual. But for Jack to be so quiet immediately told Willow that, not only was there something going on, but he was in on it.
But she remained silent.
The sun moved very little as they got closer and closer to the so-called top of the world, and the light chill of the air soon sent in. The rushing navy sheet of the water began to flash by with sprinkled bits of drifting ice, and soon disappeared completely under the downy expanse of snow. A warm dot in the distance grew into the jovial lights of the Workshop, and it certainly didn't escape her notice that all the red lights had been shut off, leaving only the bright green ones.
"Jack." She slowed to a stop.
He glanced back, before stopping as well. "Yeah?"
"What's going on?"
"What makes you think anything's going on?" he asked, fighting to hold back the smirk that tugged at his lips.
"Jack, I'm not stupid. Something's up." she said, crossing her arms.
"Well, then I guess you'll just have to trust me, now won't you?" He offered his hand. "Do you trust me?"
She sighed at his question, but pushed her stubborn protests aside and wrapped her warm fingers around his cold ones.
"I trust you."
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