Disclaimer: I own nothing.
A.N: Cats!RotG. This is a primarily Jack/Pitch centric story, written in three parts. No slash.
A.N#2: Written to the soundtracks "A Handmaid's Tale" by Adam Taylor and "Stranger Things" by Kyle Dixon.
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"I am the Cat who walks by himself, and all places are alike to me. I will not come."
—Rudyard Kipling, The Cat That Walked By Himself
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Felidae
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Jack Frost was having the strangest dream about being a cat when something tickled his nose. He groggily swiped at the source, grumbling. When the tickling didn't go away he opened his eyes and realized three things:
He was in the woods with four other furry bodies.
One said furry body had its tail halfway up his nose.
He had whiskers.
Jack Frost, suave Guardian of Fun and Awesomeness thank you oh-so-very-much, yowled and sprang into the air. He landed on stiff legs, tail fluffed three times its size.
Tail?Jack whirled around in a circle, astonished at the thing attached to his butt. He had a tail? He stopped spinning. Wha—? Jack tried to say, but out came a bewildered miaow. He forced himself to calm down. This was a dream. Maybe North went a little nuts with the magic? His ears swiveled at every sound, hyper-alert. They were in a forest, the trees all decked in yellow and brown leaves. The winter spirit gave his bewildered miaow again, then plopped his butt on the damp ground. Guys! You gotta wake up and check this out!
The others began stirring. They were all different breeds, though it didn't stop Jack from guessing Sandy was the fat little orange tabby, North was the stocky gray one, Tooth the tortoiseshell, and Bunnymund as the one with the blue-gray geometric markings. Jack himself, from what he could see, was entirely white. He watched with twitching ears as his friends came to the same conclusion they were now all cats.
Well, this shouldn't be too much of a change for Cottontail,Jack thought, chattering laughter. His chatter grew as Bunnymund began caterwauling louder and longer than any of the others. At one point the Guardian of Hope glared at the still-laughing Jack and stomped over to him. Jack dodged the swat and swiped his tail in the other's face in retaliation. Bunnymund spluttered, eyes wide, before springing at him. Within seconds the two of them were tearing through the clearing, kicking up dirt and crashing through leaves at breakneck speeds. Jack delighted in his reflexes. With his tail as a rudder, he could bend and flash in any direction.
Jack swerved to avoid North. Bunnymund skidded next to him and they panted together, catching their breath. This is so weird, Jack thought. He'd seen Jamie do this enough after intense physical activity to know this was feeling tired. Still panting, the young Guardian ambled over to North. The larger cat seemed built for cold winters, his coat as thick and gray as his beard had been.
Jack touched his nose to North's. Hey, big guy, he tried to say, but all what came out was an incomprehensible, "Mroowww."
North's eyes were just as blue and friendly as before, the slitted pupil the only difference. They swept over to Bunnymund, who was still nursing a high sulk. Jack watched as the two exchanged the same nose-to-nose greeting before Bunnymund swatted him away, ears flat.
For the next stretch of time each of the Guardians greeted the other. Tooth collided her nose with Jack's in an enthusiastic bump. Sandy said hello last. Even as a cat not a meow passed the Sandman's lips. Placid, the little Guardian seemed the least surprised at his transformation. If anything, he appeared—content? Relaxed? It was hard to tell looking at a face without shapes over his head. The winter spirit pulled his lips back from small, needled teeth in a grimace. Well, this was annoying. How on earth did they expect to communicate without words? What was this magic? Or more importantly, who had the power to turn five of the strongest spirits into—
Jack blinked. No way.
Though it'd been two years since Jack accepted his role of Guardian, there was no love lost between himself and the Moon. We're gonna have words after this is sorted out, Jack thought, his fine mood simmering to something grayer. He turned his head and found North and Tooth pawing at something in the leaf litter. Curious, Jack padded over, Sandy bumbling behind him. He leaned in when he was close enough, whiskers fanning.
There, in the middle of a ring of dirt, was a crystal.
We were looking for that, Jack Frost thought for no reason. A hot wave of relief rushed over him. The crystal, of course! How could he've forgotten? They were after the crystal . . . for something. Something big. But what? And why? He tried to remember what North had said about the mission. Blah blah, special crystal, blah blah, something important, blah blah blaaaaah— Damn. Of all the times not to pay attention to the big guy. But it was more than that: he couldn't even remember coming to the woods. He'd been at the Pole, preparing for whatever the mission was, then woke up as a cat. It was as if someone had fast-forwarded the movie of his life and he'd missed the beginning.
Jack peered closer at the crystal, hoping to jog more memories. It looked like a miniature version of the one at North's Globe Room, except this one was dull and sooty. In a sudden shock of memory, he remembered it glowing blue before. Now it looked like single puff of wind would destroy it. The longer the young Guardian stared, the more he realized the crystal was responsible for their transformations.
They couldn't use it now. This crystal was spent. Whatever magic it had was gone.
Jack lifted his head to look at the others. Bunnymund maooow'd loudly. Now what?
Something in Jack eased when North lifted a paw. Though Jack was the spirit of mischievous chaos and always feared losing his independence, Jack had come to appreciate aspects of stability since joining the Big Four. Having a leader while being in a strange forest as a cat was certainly one of those moments, and he wasn't the only one who relaxed as North took control.
The crystal crumbled when North tapped it. The Guardian of Wonder proceeded to divide the remnants into two piles. When he was done, he looked at each of them.
Okay, so there're two crystals, Jack thought. But that didn't explain why they were in an unfamiliar forest. And it certainly didn't explain why the crystal turned them all into cats. He hoped the rest of his memories would return sooner than later. After the fiasco with his memories and Easter two years ago, he was done with amnesia.
Suddenly North began padding deeper into the woods, tail high and fluffed. Sandy gamboled after the gray cat, his own tail curled high. Tooth leapt after them, stumbling over her paws. Bunnymund and Jack shared a glance before the other snorted.
And like that, the Guardians fell into a lopsided line. Jack followed, trusting the big guy to lead him and the others back to their original forms. After three hundred years of doing whatever he pleased whenever he wanted, he'd been afraid of rules and the yoke of responsibilities. But the two years he'd spent with the Big Four had taught him having friends to share his happiness was far better than any lonely freedom he'd yet experienced, or ever will. It was like carrying a sun in his chest. Somedays, if he paused his antics long enough to realize what he had, he felt as if the sun would burst and spill out his fingertips.
Jack lifted his head and peered into the yellow treetops. Leaves fluttered down and landed on their backs, making him want to chase them. Maybe in an earlier life he'd been a cat, because nothing felt as natural as walking through the forest with his tail held high. He glanced behind. Judging by the flattened ears and bristled fur, the kangaroo was still ten shades of grumpy. Jack mrooooow'd, dropping back to rub shoulders with the other.
Bunnymund whirled his head to bite, but Jack was already dodging. This tail thing is amazing, the young Guardian thought as he sped away from the other. He veered around a rock, Bunnymund in hot pursuit. Up, down, around, over: at some indeterminable point their race became less a chase and more a dance, their bellies stretched as they ran. Jack watched as Bunnymund flew over a stump and twisted like an organic slinky to avoid a puddle. They slowed down enough to walk side-by-side, each panting. The tired muscles and heavy breathing was still weird to Jack, but he tried to shake the weakness away. Was this how mortals lived their lives? No wonder they moved so slow.
See? Jack nudged the other's face with a muddy paw. Fun.
Bunnymund's tail twitched. Whatever.
When night fell North had the group stop under some boulders. Sandy and Tooth entered the safety of the crevasse, tripping over their paws in sleepy stumbles. Bunnymund slunk in after them. Instead of following, Jack scaled up the largest rock as if born to it, lithe muscles bunching under his white fur. An empty panorama of night sky greeted him at the top. It was a scene he'd seen a thousand times, but somehow being in a cat's body gave him a perspective he hadn't appreciated before. It didn't stop a small shiver to run up Jack's spine. Despite his current happiness, two years did little to erase three hundred years of miserable nights.
The darkness served too cruel a reminder. It still did.
Another shiver ran up Jack's spine, causing his fur to fluff. He was being silly. That was in the past. The stars are made of nickle, he thought for no reason. Had it been Jamie who said it? He couldn't remember. If only the boy could see him now. Oh, wait. Jack grimaced at the thought of Annabelle, their greyhound, and a different shudder ran up his spine. Maybe not. Best to sort this cat-business out before seeing the kiddo again.
Jack Frost didn't know how long he sat staring into the night sky, time flowing like water around him. At one point Jack caught sight of the tell-tale shimmer of the aurora borealis. He was so focused on the lights he didn't even hear North's approach. The larger cat plopped next to him, rolls of fur spilling around his body. Jack had to move to avoid becoming smothered.
"Miaow," Jack said, forgetting.
North chuttered quietly, and the young Guardian was struck with the impression nothing about the big guy had changed. Yeah, he was a cat—they all were—but the essence defining each of them was the same. Jack knew North could've ended up a mouse and he'd still be the friendliest, craziest Guardian of Wonder there was.
Jack was still immersed in musings when North tapped his shoulder. When he had Jack's attention, the larger cat pointed towards the shimmering green lights above them. Jack stared a moment before it clicked. Ahh. They were following the lights to the second must've shown on his face because North nodded and chuttered again.
A wind blew through, and Jack hunched down against its bite. He blinked down at himself, surprised at his body's reaction.
He had little time to think about it as North nudged him down the boulder, back towards the others. Jack followed without protest, his claws skidding against the gritty surface. By the time he landed on the ground his shoulders were stiff from how tense he'd been holding them against the wind. He slipped into the space between the rocks, the darkness only a dim gray to his cat eyes. He picked his way through dried leaves and twigs until he reached his friends' sides. Sandy and Tooth were already asleep.
As North moved to huddle next to the smaller cats, Jack understood fatigue was new. The ability to feel cold and be affected by it was new. Even the desire for warmth was new, because for the first time in over three hundred years Jack curled up next to the others to escape the cold. Bunnymund half-woke with a grumble, but soon fell asleep after Jack stopped fidgeting. As the youngest Guardian drifted off, their combined body heat chased away the air's chilled promise of snow.
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Jack woke to a burning sensation in his belly. I'm hungry, he thought, blinking. Another weird, unpleasant mortal quirk. He'd forgotten living took so much effort. Jamie always made it look so easy. Jack looked around. Sandy was already gone. How Tooth and Bunny could still be sleeping through North's snoring amazed the young Guardian. They'd wake soon enough. Hungry and thirsty, he untangled himself from the others and headed outside, already missing the combined warmth.
Cold sleet greeted him. Jack huddled at the cave's entrance, grimacing. As a Guardian he rarely made the stuff: as neither rain nor snow, it wasn't fun for anyone, himself included. He specialized in the fluff of first snowfall or the sticky snowball snow. But the urge to eat and drink was greater than his dislike, and Jack soon slipped into the gray.
Within moments his outer fur was plastered to his body. His dense undercoat kept the discomfort tolerable as he entered deeper into the forest. There were still enough yellow and brown leaves to offer him some protection, but already he could see many of the branches were thinning. It must be getting close to winter here, he thought, craning his head to catch glimpses of the leaden sky. The patter of rain hitting foliage filled his ears. He'd hoped the observation would jog another memory, but nothing came to him. He couldn't make out the borealis at all. He wondered how North would lead them to the other crystal with all the rain. The worries were fleeting. Jack was sure North had a plan. He always did.
Jack picked up the pace when he heard the sound of a river. By the time he reached the rocky expanse leading up to it, his stomach was a tight little ball of surprising amount of pain. If Jamie ever complains of 'hunger pangs' in front of me, I'm going to give him a burger.
Jack groaned. Scratch that. Make it six burgers.
The river was narrow but deep, the water appearing black with white specks of foam as it flowed downhill. The water frothed with an aggressive speed, slamming against the rocks that contained it. Shallower, slower pools formed where the topography flattened out, and that was were Jack found Sandy.
The little tabby was sitting over one of the little offshoots, staring intently into it. Jack hurried over, meowing to be heard over the roar of the river. As he neared, he smelled fish. A part of him thought ugh, but a greater part shouted food! Though his paws were soundless over the flat rocks, Sandy still lifted his head to greet him. When they bumped noses, Jack could smell fish on the little tabby's breath. Jack's stomach grumbled in earnest. Sandy eyed him.
The white cat retreated a step and watched the other return to his fishing. As quick as his whips Sandy's paw flicked into the water and out came a wriggling fish. Jack was all thumbs in his attempt to get it in his mouth, but at last he crunched through the spine and stopped its struggles. It was gone in three bites. I can't believe I ate a raw fish and So good so good this is amazing I want twenty ran through his mind, one thought clearly more prevalent than the other.
Jack flattened his ears akimbo and gave his best soulful expression. "Mrrw?"
The smaller cat eyed him askance for a moment, but he batted the next fish towards Jack anyway. The young Guardian scarfed it down faster than the first. It tasted even better. As he finished licking his lips, he watched Sandy return to fishing. It never ceased to amaze the winter spirit how nimble the Sandman was. He was the one who matched Pitch's ferocity and agility in a fight despite his dumpy little body. It was his arrival that helped turned the tide in the last battle: if it weren't for his whips and knockout punch, who knew what would've happened to Jack and the others that night.
Jack observed Sandy for a time, taking care to pay attention to his timing and movements. He hardly noticed the sleet. Though his fur kept him warmer than he thought, Jack was eager to get out of the open. By the time Bunny and the others appeared, Jack was full and Sandy was licking his fishing paw dry. It was almost snowing at this point, but still too wet. It looked like North was covered in soggy powder sugar. The big cat bounded up the boulders as if it wasn't raining at all and greeted Sandy and Jack with warm cheer. Tooth and Bunny were fluffed as far as their fur could go, their greetings less enthusiastic.
As Bunnymund began miaowing at Sandy for some fish, Jack wandered away to explore the river. He didn't plan on going far, but it would keep his muscles warm and moving. He headed downstream, padding down slippery boulders. The river leveled off and Jack came across an old hemlock that had fallen long ago and now formed a primitive bridge over the frothing river. He passed over its roots, sniffing at its decomposing smell. He looked up.
And found Pitch Black staring at him.
That was the only conclusion Jack Frost could think of when he saw the black cat. It had to be. The sleek, triangular head was the same, right down to the gray around his eyes. Jack stopped outright, hackles bristling. The other cat made no sign of recognition, sitting still as a tomb. We fought Pitch for the crystal, Jack suddenly thought. Fought with everything they had, just as they'd done two years ago to save the world's children. Even before the memory ended Jack knew it had been life-or-death. But the memory didn't include why they'd been fighting in the first place.
Jack startled out of his thoughts when Pitch began slinking towards him. Jack backpedaled, instinctively searching for the staff he knew wasn't there. He can't hurt me, he thought. He was mortal now, which meant Pitch couldn't do magic either. The thought that should've brought comfort only made him fluff his fur to appear bigger and meaner. He didn't see the roots of the fallen tree and tripped backwards, sprawling. No! Just as Jack thought Pitch would pounce, the black cat leapt atop the tree and slunk across like a velvet shadow, ignoring both the incredulous Guardian and the surging water below. When he reached the other side he glided down, taking a moment to look over his shoulder at Jack, eyes narrowed. As if waiting.
Jack could only stare back. All of this was ridiculous. Pitch Black was mortal now, which meant—
A coyote trotted into view, on Jack's side of the river. Too surprised to move, the young Guardian could only watch as it nosed the area Pitch had been sitting not moments before. Its rangy musk filled his nose. Its wagging tongue made it look like it was laughing, but laughter was the last thing on Jack's mind. That thing could eat him. When the coyote lifted its head and they made eye-contact, he scrabbled to his paws and shot off.
The coyote leapt after him.
The chase felt surreal, like it was all a dream and any moment Jack would wake up in his immortal Guardian body. When the coyote snapped at his tail Jack spun in midair to rake his claws across the other's muzzle. The coyote balked. Jack took off again. One of his paws skidded on some ice. The misstep cost him less than a second, but it was enough for the wild dog to close its jaws around his haunch.
Pain Jack hadn't felt since Pitch snapped his staff in Antartica barreled through him. He folded on himself and latched his claws on the coyote's face, batting and biting with single-minded larger animal released him, snarling. It attempted a second bite, snapping to avoid the frenzied swiping. Its teeth sunk in his haunch again, its hot breath reeking of carrion. Jack's panic redoubled. For no reason at all he thought about Jamie.
Just as the larger animal was about to flip him over in earnest, a blur sailed over Jack and struck the larger animal in the face. The young Guardian caught a glimpse of gray as the jaws retreated.
"Maaaow!" Jack cried. He staggered to his paws and saw Sandy, Bunnymund, and Tooth barreling towards them. Before he could collapse in relief, the coyote's hindquarters collided with him and he was pushed into the river.
Jack was instantly sucked under. When he resurfaced he couldn't see his friends. He fought against his rising panic as his frantic paddling didn't get him closer to land, the familiar terror gripping his throat. I'm not gonna drown, I'm not gonna drown not again not again—
When his muscles began to burn he stopped trying to swim ashore and simply focused on keeping his head afloat, struggling against the weight of his own waterlogged fur. It hurt to breathe. He couldn't tell if the roar in his ears was his heartbeat or the river around him. Only when he tumbled in midair did he realize he'd gone over a waterfall, slamming into the water below and plunging into murk. When the turbulence dissipated he broke the surface, gasping. He floated on the current, exhausted beyond all measure. Soon an eddy brought him to a shallow pool and he found enough energy to pull himself onto a pebbly beach before collapsing.
Jack Frost stared at nothing as if from an immense distance, experiencing the greatest weariness he'd ever known. Every muscle felt it weighed as much as a Yeti, and when he twitched his injured leg, he groaned from the effort. He remained stretched on the ground for as long as he dared, unable to concentrate on anything beyond his breathing. Alive. He was alive. At some point he could smell the rain and the taste of fish still between his teeth. Instinct told him to get up, get out of sight, but moving seemed like the biggest challenge ever set against him. When he peeled himself into sitting position, his head felt like it was split in two.
My leg. How bad is it? Bracing himself, he peered down. The water had washed much of the blood, but some of his fur was still matted pink. He could see several holes were the coyote had torn his skin. He experienced a strange sense of comfort when he licked his wounds. Jack kept licking until the flesh beneath was pink and gleaming. As he did he suddenly remembered the times Jamie and his friends had skinned their knees or gotten scrapes. There had always been a disconnect when he watched their pain. Sure, he winced in sympathy, especially that time Cupcake cut her hand enough to warrant butterfly stitches. But knowing how they felt? Actually remembering the sensation of pain? It had been a mystery to him.
Not anymore, Jack thought. He was almost surprised at the hurt than anything else. He licked his wounds almost manically, the seriousness of his situation sinking in like a poison. I could die out here. Really, really die. Suddenly the novelty of being a cat lost all its allure. I have to hide before anything big finds me, Jack thought. He looked around, but didn't recognize anything. How far was he carried downstream? He hoped the others were okay. Though North was big, Jack doubted he could take out the coyote by himself.
A flush of genuine hatred filled the young Guardian. There was no doubt the blackhearted shadow led the coyote right to them. What other traps had Pitch concocted? Or was he here, now, waiting to finish Jack off once and for all? The young Guardian quickly smelled the air and peered at every dark corner. There was no trace of Pitch. Doesn't mean the jerk isn't here, he thought. He shook his head. Can't think about that now. Have to focus on finding shelter.
An overwhelming urge to find the others kept Jack tethered in place for a long minute, the indecision hurting worse than his bruised body. But looking at the path he would need to climb to even reach the top of the waterfall had his leg twinging, and Jack knew he would have to recuperate first. He would find them later, after he rested.
Jack found shelter under a nearby pine, but it didn't matter. The rain had left everything cold and damp. He huddled into the smallest ball he could, wrapping his tail around his head to capture extra heat. Exhausted from the ordeal and aching from the pain, he fell into a thin sleep.
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TBC