Boredom. Thats what this was: infinite boredom. Gone were the days his voice could be heard, over were nights full of scared children afraid of monsters under their beds. All the demons and witches and sorcery he had worked so hard to implant in their miserable minds had been replaced. As he had been replaced. After all, that was what one did to friends they'd outgrown, why should the man in the moon be any different? How could he, just a lowly, unimportant immortal, created intentionally by the man in the moon himself, possibly be important enough to keep around? No, he was simply as an old coat one might throw away once they've no further use for it, well he'd show him. His precious guardians couldn't possibly be a match for fear itself, fear is eternal! And yet, fear is slowly fading. Why, just last night, a simple attempt to stir up some small pestilence rumors went horribly wrong when the people set up tents and their medicines and began working to treat the issue instead of cowering from it! The lousy creatures were getting big ideas in their heads, and it was not very difficult to discern their origin. But enough of that. There was no point in simply wallowing, wishing for the old days, he had to find a target. Someone still perceptive to the fear he so desperately needed to feed on. Over the past few years he's been mostly stuck on an unforgiving diet of startles and concern. What he wouldn't give for mind loosing terror right about now! He'd settle even for a small panic if he must! He closed his eyes in bored irritation, massaging his temples with his thumb and mid-finger. He was currently resting between a large barrel and the external wall of a building. He'd been sitting there for quite some time, since early dusk, in fact, but what did it matter? It wasn't as though anyone could see him anyway. He raised his head once more and looked out at the quiet dark street, glaring as though he could scare the very pavement into supplying him with something. But, alas, pavement can't feel fear, and since it seems pavement is the only thing he will come across at this late hour, he decided he should probably just retreat once more to his lair.
He was just beginning to slip into the shadow beneath him when a tingle of something caught his attention. Someone was definitely frightened, very much so, if the strength of the tingle was proof of it. Pitch exited the shadow once more and hastily headed toward the source: the center of the small town.
He moved hurriedly, hoping to reach the source before it's potent fear was ebbed. However, he dare not use the shadows, he could only tell the direction to go, not how far, and he couldn't risk loosing it. Finally he reached the gates of a large castle, he was just using a shadow to get inside when the gates swung open and two horses bolted into the night, carrying the source with them. His momentarily close proximity to the sheer panic was as relieving as water after years in a desert, but soon the horses pulled away and he could no longer partake in the glorious feast. He quickly made rout to follow, this time jumping in and out of shadows, or else he'd lose the fast paced beasts. That was what he needed: a horse, perhaps even an entire army of them. He could call them Nightmares! Oh what the thought! But now was not the time to be scheming, he needed to focus on not losing the target. No, upon closer inspection of the radiating fear, there was not simply one target, but three. One was experiencing an urgent fear that was spurring him into action, that fear was never very appetizing. Another, the fear that demobilizes, causing the victim to become inactive from shock, that was always fun to play around with. Yet neither of those were the fear that had first drawn his attention, nor were they the most potent there. The strongest fear, by far, was that of a child. A child experiencing such amazing terror as to render her even incapable of controlling her own body! Oh how Pitch absolutely adored that fear! The child was losing her entire self to him, and it was amazing! Oh how he longed to just stand next to her! But that was still an impossibility, they were still on the move.
The three finally stopped in a small clearing full of what to them must have looked like boulders, though to him it was plain to see they were trolls. He observed the three of them as they walked into the middle of the clearing, Pitch dare not follow, the trolls might ignore his presence if he lingered in the shadows, but they would definitely become aggressive if he stepped foot on their land. He watched longingly as the distance between himself and, what he assumed was a family, grew. Perhaps they would walk through to the other side, and he could catch up to them over there. Just as he began to hope, the trolls awoke. Pitch frowned in irritation when the fear of the two adults lessened, replaced by hope. He made his way around the troll grounds so that he could get a better look at the child. Her fear was still so wonderfully potent. It was not a fear for herself, though, but of herself. She was afraid she had harmed another permanently. Curious, Pitch observed her parents closer, only then did he notice the other child. Held in her parent's arms, she was unconscious, and if the other child's fear had anything to say about it, Pitch assumed it was due to her sister. Pitch watched silently, absorbing the fear, reveling in its purity. He closed his eyes as he felt his power strengthening once again, not, of course, to where it was before those infernal guardians showed up, but there was something particular about this girl's fear, something that made it better, even, than the fear of a hundred men. Something sincere and overpowering. He reopened his eyes curiously when he heard the troll mention fear. He showed a display of red lights leaping and smothering a small blue light, but that wasn't what was attracting the girl's attention. She was staring past the lights directly at Pitch himself. She appeared curious, as though not sure of what she was seeing. He took a step forward, further out of the darkness and the girl yelped in fear and hid her face in her father's pant leg. His brows furrowed in surprise, no one had seen him since the guardians' arrival. Perhaps she wasn't looking at him, maybe it was the lights that had frightened her after all. Pitch had to be sure.
"Do you see me, child?" He wondered softly. A few of the trolls closest to him turned to give him a warning glance, but the girl did not respond. She simply stared at him with wide eyes, as though believing her stare would reveal him to be the bent tree or mangled bush he must surely be.
It was no matter that she didn't speak, he hadn't been expecting a reply, her stare was confirmation enough. His mind began reeling with ideas. This girl had some of the most potent fear he'd ever experienced, but she could see him, which meant she wouldn't let him hang around if she knew he was at all responsible for her feeling said fear. It only took a glance at the frozen ground around her feet to realize that she was powerful enough to keep him away should she choose to. He smiled to himself as the solution made itself known. He would simply make her believe he wasn't her enemy. If she wasn't scared of him directly, he could be near her when she experienced this amazing fear of herself she had so attractively displayed. He shifted his smile to that of a more friendly kind before holding a finger to his lips and vanishing into the darkness of the trees.