"Lanie. What kind of name is that even?" Willow popped up into a tree, leaning against the trunk. Through the branches she could see the moon.
"What are you staring at?" She grumbled, popping back to the ground, continuing towards the Californian beach. She had picked someplace warm on purpose, trying to get the remaining chill off of her skin. Not that the cold could do anything to her now. Not a lot could, to a spirit. She had just never liked it. Or the annoying boy who always seemed to accompany it. Always looking at her like he knew something she didn't. And calling her by that STUPID name.
She sat down by the water, watching the moon's reflection waver in between the waves. "You could have told me something, you know. A hey, how are you. Something. Even Jack got a name." She raised her eyes slowly up, before turning them sideways. "Whatever. It's not like you're listening anyways." She scooted up closer to the water, dipping her toes into the warm water. She absentmindedly snapped her fingers, creating two small lights above the water. She sat there, watching the small yellow orbs chasing each other in figure eight patterns.
She had woken up on Christmas. She remembered being afraid. The fear was her first memory. The panic. And then the cold had set in. She could see a car, its hood crumpled like an accordion. And the cliff beyond it. Had she been in there? Was anyone else in there? She remembered growing more afraid. Where was she?
And then the lights had appeared. They had been much dimmer than the ones she had now, but they had had more of a mind of their own at the begining. One had zoomed in within inches of her face. She had held a hand up, not sure what it had wanted. Instead of burning her though, it had merely circle her head once, twice and then flew back, away from the car, and down a frosted pathway. Seeing no other good action, she had taken a few steps towards her new companion.
But then, he had shown up. He had appeared from the darkness behind her, throwing his cloak over her shoulders.
Pitch. The closest thing she had come to see as family in the last half a century. And now he was gone. Her hands turned to fists in the sand.
Hearing a clatter from the rooftops behind her, she quickly pulled her feet from the waters and stood, the lights zooming back into her fingers uncalled for. She could see the giant Russian from here, popping in and out of chimneys. His sleigh stood parked on the roof of the nearest house.
It was their fault. Pitch had simply wanted to be believed in again. It was easy to judge when you didn't even have to try for that anymore. They didn't know what it was like, being reduced to an old wives tale, practically a joke. Never being believed in. It was infuriating. It ate at you inside. You felt worthless. Lost. And not the kind of lost she made people feel.
And now it was like they were TAUNTING her. Two guardians in one day. She couldn't escape from them. She shoved her feet back into her shoes, and with one final glare back to North, who was now clambering into his sleigh, and disappeared.