Hey, a new chapter! Initially two, I decided to combine them, as they were both quite small on their own. Enjoy!
'Okay Frost, believe. You can do it.' Jack Frost reassured himself as he flew over the vast blue of the Atlantic Ocean. North had instructed him to seek out a figure of local English folklore, Herne the Hunter, for more information about the adversaries the Guardians faced. It had been decided back at North's workshop that fresher background was needed about Spring-heeled Jack, from a source more familiar with the spirit than North or the other Guardians. Each of the Guardians was to set out to a different location of the world either for assistance or information, with the exception of North who remained at his workshop to monitor the Globe that revealed the belief of the children of the world. Herne was one of the likeliest candidates North had argued, as legends of Herne the Hunter had been spun from the same place that spun the tales of Spring-heeled Jack. North had instructed Jack that finding Herne would be easy enough; all Jack had to do was enable himself to see Herne through belief in him. Therefore, Jack found himself riding the tremendous gusts of wind that rolled over the Atlantic towards London, England.
It was an easy enough ride. The ocean magnified any winds Jack rode by tenfold, carrying him like a feather through the salty air. The quicker the better, thought Jack. The noontime sun beat down, rays reflected in the churning waters and amplifying the heat created. Jack felt slightly uncomfortable, beads of cold sweat forming on his brow. His body was most at equilibrium during the winter, when the temperature fell below freezing. Now, in the blazing sun, Jack thought wistfully of frigid snowfalls and winter air crisp enough to bite. He sighed, the coolness of his breath producing steam from the surrounding air. Being a Guardian was definitely a massive honour, and Jack loved the idea of protecting the children while staying true to his nature, but having responsibilities was a big pain. Not exactly his cup of tea.
Jack swooped closer to the ocean surface when he saw the telltale slick grey glisten of dolphins below him. He was desperate for entertainment, and tired of indoctrinating Herne the Hunter into his head.
'Hey guys, care for a race?'
The dolphins, five or six in total, swam below Jack with an easy amiability. Naturally sociable animals, they kept together and followed in the shadow Jack cast over the water. He bobbed and weaved around their dorsal fins with ease, laughing happily. Jack liked dolphins. As far as animals went, they had a good sense of humour and didn't seem to mind his company. Water sprayed and splashed froze when it hit Jack, falling like little marbles into the ocean. Suddenly inspired, he lowered his staff and let it drag against the current, freezing the water as he went. Crashing waves became like crystal sculptures, raw and beautiful. Jack always enjoyed pausing scenes of naturing, enjoying them for as long as he pleased. Admiring his handiwork, Jack grinned and slowed the push of the wind so he could hover over his handiwork.
It was then the dolphins disappeared into the depths, repelled by the sudden drop of temperature. Jack laughed, unaffected. 'Oh c'mon, don't tell me you give up already?' He didn't hold the abandonment of the dolphins to much stock; they merely sought warmer climates. Nothing to take personal. Besides, Jack much preferred the kind of company that could walk on land. The race had been fun, but it was over now. Anyways, there was a plan that needed following through.
'Alright, see you later.' He waved playfully, peering into the vast ocean depths. It was then Jack saw out of the corner of his eye the shadow hurling towards him like an arrow.
Yelling, Jack shot up into the air like a geyser. He looked around wildly, staff gripped firmly in his hand. 'Woah, what was that.' He squinted, confused. There was nothing but endless ocean. Clouds rolled ominously over the sun, dimming the air to a stormy grey. Jack felt the hairs on the back of his neck bristle.
Another shadow hissed beneath Jack as he flipped over in the air, barely avoiding it. Heart pounding in his ribcage, Jack felt adrenaline shooting through his veins as his eyes grew wide and frantic as his mind scrambled to comprehend. Something was trying to kill him.
He looked around frantically, staff poised offensively. The sky was an empty sheet, the ocean an unreadable cauldron. Distracted, Jack's gaze fell into the ocean as he saw the faintest gleam of grey. Not the smooth sheen of a dolphin's skin, but fuzzier, faded. Jack's heart dropped like a stone when his eyes made sense of the figure.
It was a boy, the boy, from North's sketch. The Wraith boy paired with the girl. He was distorted by the swirling waters, but Jack could see the look of determination fixed upon the boy's face. The boy reached for something in a blurred satchel, but before Jack could make out the image it was flung at him in a black flurry.
'Hey! Woah, watch it! You could kill someone with those things!' Jack shouted as he danced and skitted through the air, avoiding the mysterious jets of black. They seemed to consist of the same substance of Nightmares and Fearlings. Whereas the Nightmares and Fearlings had minds of their own, this shadowy substance was reduced to basic weaponry, little more than an object. Once thrown, it would dissipate behind Jack like a heap of flour into the air.
The boy didn't react to Jack's teasing, but rose out of the stormy waters as though he were being lifted. He stood as though the ocean were solid with one fist clenched around a cloth satchel, the other reaching around inside. Above water, Jack could see the boy had bright blue eyes and fair hair, a detail left out of his ink sketch. His eyes glared with the anger of a child, and his face held none of the mature composure of an adult. In a darkly humorous contrast, the boy's solid build revealed years of demanding physical labour, muscles torn out of a young child in exchange for a harsh lifestyle. Shaking salty droplets from his curly hair, the boy glared at Jack as though the sun was in his eyes.
'Come down and fight me, coward!' The boy shouted, brandishing his fist. It appeared to be clutching the shadow, as the material misted around the boy's clenched hand ominously. Jack brought his staff forward, determined to show off his abilities as much as possible in an attempt to chicken the boy out of fighting. Jack really didn't want to harm the boy, even after he was outrightly attacked.
Winding up, the boy unleashed the mass of shadow just as Jack unleashed a blast of ice from his staff. The substances collided and crackled into an explosion midair, sending shards of ice and tendrils of shadow scattering like fireworks.
'You see, kid?'Jack gestured with his staff to the space previously occupied by the collision. 'You don't want to mess with me.'
This was apparently the wrong thing to say, as the boy thrust both hands into the dust coloured bag and hurled two more shadows at Jack. 'I'm not a kid!' He shouted angrily, lips pulled into an ugly snarl. Jack whipped his staff through the air, sending more ice to combat the shadows. The impact and momentum of the action sent him flying backwards over the ocean. The clouds were growing thicker, and Jack could feel the static energy crackling in the air. He had never been struck by lightning before, and he certainly didn't want to take his chances now. It faintly crossed his mind to try to capture the boy and bring him back to North's workshop, but there was no time now to attempt such a feat. He'd have to knock the boy out, which judging by the boy's physical power would be no easy feat.
Regretfully, Jack turned to the boy and focused upon the waters churning around the boy's ankles. He lowered his staff and set the ocean to freeze, icy swirls racing towards where the boy stood. Thankfully the boy was preoccupied with grabbing fistfuls of shadow to throw until he looked down to see the ice engulfing his knees and continuing up his body. He dropped the shadow which evaporated instantly, and began clawing at the growing ice that proceeded to shroud his body. The look of sheer terror that seized the boy's young face made Jack's stomach churn. He watched sadly as the ice continued up to the boy's shoulders, freezing him to the frozen landscape that had been an angry ocean moments before.
The boy's incredibly blue eyes locked onto Jack, wide like a rabbit's.'P-please,' his voice trembled, high and thin. 'H-he never told me...' The boy broke into gasps. Hesitantly, Jack flew closer to the boy, close enough to rest a hand on his frozen shoulder.
'Hey, umm, I'm sorry...You're going to be okay.' Jack comforted the boy awkwardly. This previously determined killer was a quivering mess, cheeks becoming rosy and eyes reddening with tears. Jack was torn being the desire to laugh and the desire to punch himself. 'It's just so...you don't keep throwing those things at me. That's it.' Jack said in a calm tone, eyeing the bag that contained the shadows resting on the boy's hip. It seemed subdued by the ice, a few shadow tendrils locked in place beneath the glassy surface. Jack was utterly confident that the boy was of absolutely no threat now, and nor were the shadows on the off chance they should have independent minds.
The boy nodded jerkily, taking deep sniffs now. 'Okay, okay, okay...' He said in a hurried, hushed tone. He looked up, suddenly making eye contact with Jack. Brilliant blue locked with pale. Looking closely now, Jack could see that the boy's eyes were the only source of brilliance on his face. His wheat hair and rosy pallor seemed tinged with grey, even for the stormy surroundings. Jack supposed it was because the boy was a Wraith. Faded colours like a ghost, it would make sense.
Jack frowned, the previous stammers of the boy sinking in. 'Wait, what do you mean, "he never told you". He who?' Jack frowned internally, remembering the name of the so-called ringleader of the operation. 'Spring-heeled Jack?'
Lightning slicked across the sky, and Jack realized that he would have to be quick. He wasn't scared for the Wraith; frozen to the top of the ocean, the boy had plenty of space between him and the deadly shocks of electricity. Jack wanted to arrive in England as soon as possible, and waiting for the storm to be over so he could fly safely would take too long. Best take flight soon, before it escalated to full throttle.
The boy nodded a teary confirmation. 'He never said you would f-freeze me. Only shoot ice. He said I could beat you.' The words tumbled out, punctuated with gasps and sniffles.
Jack's eyes narrowed. 'Well, he was wrong.' As the boy seemed to collect himself; that is, reduce fountains of bawling to sniffling and short breathing, Jack looked him over once more. This boy really was just a kid, no matter what his stocky muscles boasted. His face, however wrought with tears, held a youthful innocence and candour that warmed his boyish features.
'Hey, uhh,' Jack changed his tone, not wanting to leave the boy without somehow wrapping up the strange scenario. 'What's your name? I'm Jack Frost.'
The boy looked up. 'I know that,' he said with a twinge of pride through his sopping demeanour. Jack grinned and raised an eyebrow, momentarily reminded of Bunnymund. It was a fond sort of moment. Wiping his nose by messily grazing it against his frozen shoulder, the boy sniffed and mumbled, '...I'm Will.'
Jack nodded. 'Like, William?'
The boy shook his head vigourously. 'No, I like Will.'
'Gotcha. Will, I've gotta get going now. Just...stay where you are. You'll thaw out in a bit, I just need to make sure you aren't going to throw anything else at me, okay?' Jack asked slowly, feeling incredibly strange about requesting his adversary's permission to leave him entrapped in ice. Will didn't seem to mind.
'Okay.' Will nodded as though Jack made all the sense in the world.
'Okay.' Again, Jack fought the urge to burst into laughter. This was too weird. Before he left, Jack sent a magic trail of frost thin as a spider's web to dance in front of Will's face before gently nipping him on the nose. He figured if anyone could use a dose of magically fun-enhanced frost, it was the boy snivelling in the middle of the ocean, trapped in ice in the midst of a growing storm. Flying away, Jack could see from afar Will's expression shift slowly from distraught to a confused grin. When he heard a giggle bubbling into the air, Jack left feeling content.
He flew swiftly, weaving around bolts of lightning that flashed unexpectedly from the sky. It was far quicker to travel the further up he was, but it was also far more perilous. Jack urged the winds on, faster, more powerful. The ocean sloshed chaotically like a child holding a bucket of water, encouraging Jack to gain height. England wasn't too much further, perhaps an hour more and he'd arrive. Jack took a deep breath and steeled himself for the journey. The winds picked up, the water jumped and clashed, lightning cracked the sky and thunder's vicious boom shook Jack's ears. He couldn't dwell on Will, couldn't even focus on Herne the Hunter. Jack merely fought with every instinct to stay alive and reach the island civilization which birthed the foe of the Guardians.
After what seemed like an eternity of sporadic ducking and weaving, Jack found himself along the east coast of England, where waves pounded against dry rocky cliffs spraying flecks of cold water. It was a barren, hushed place, save for the ripping gales and rhythmic pound of the surf. Jack flew to the flat, grassy tops of the cliff shore and collapsed onto the ground. His muscles felt like jelly, and he gasped with pain as he slowly pried his curled fingers from his staff. Rubbing his legs and arms, Jack surveyed his surroundings. In typical English fashion, the sky was overcast and foreboding. Thick clouds swirled in the moist air, concealing the sun. Jack hardly minded. He rested his eyes and leaned back onto the grass, savouring the coolness of shade against his skin. Still, thoughts of Will invaded his mind like tiny daggers, nicking and prodding against his consciousness.
He couldn't have been more than fourteen, however built. Though concealed by wracks of sobbing, Jack had thought the boy's accent to be lilting and open vowelled compared to a traditional American's. Undoubtedly worldly, Jack pinned the boy as a native of Newfoundland or Nova Scotia, somewhere in the vicinity of eastern Canada. It was bleedingly obvious that the boy was not terribly bright, and Jack wondered how Will had come to be mixed up in such a horrific concoction as a fiend like Spring-heeled Jack might cook up. Surely the other Wraith, the girl, had some sort of influence over him. Unsure of their relations, Jack summated that the girl must have been a sort of older sister to Will, and held the sum of his loyalties.
After dazing about in thought for a while, Jack reluctantly shook himself of his thoughtful haze and resumed his journey. Arriving in Berkshire by the swiftest of winds (it was really quite quicker travelling by the coast), Jack spotted the familiar greenish haze of a forest far in the distance and changed his course. North had specified that Herne the Hunter far preferred the secrecy of forests to blatant plains or overcrowded areas of civilization. Herne far from popular, only the well-informed locals of Berkshire carried whispers of his name. No child would be disappointed never being visited by Herne the Hunter. As Jack approached the edge of the massively thick cluster of trees, he realized he would not be able to fly through the labyrinth of splaying branches and overgrown roots. Setting his feet on the ground, Jack stepped beneath the shadowy canopy of leaves.
The air was distinctly cooler, and held the noticeable scent of chlorophyll that seemed to tinge the air damp green. The loose dirt of the ground was soft and nice against Jack's bare feet. The vast trunks of trees carved towards the sky proudly, extending countless arms of greenery above Jack's head. Wildlife was abundant, but subtle. Whilst walking, Jack noticed that the forest was secretly teeming with life. Squirrels chased one another up and down trees, birds sat perched in branches or muddy nests. Deer padded delicately just beyond Jack's sight, their presence revealed by a flash of white and brown and the shaking of bushes as they fled to deeper sanctuary. Even tiny insects, butterflies, ants, and the like, appeared to occupy an abundant part of the forest. Though the forest was dark and silent, it held a subtle comfort and liveliness that eased Jack as he continued deeper into the mess of trees before him.
It wasn't long before Jack came across a small campsite, perched by a bubbling brook that ran through the forest before growing into a stream and emptying into a far off creek. There was a modest tent constructed mainly of a parchment coloured material and wooden poles Jack was certain were carved off trees in the forest. A small campfire, empty, was crudely constructed a few feet from the tent, accompanied by various pots and hunting knives laid precisely beside it in neat lines. Jack trod over to examine the display. The blades were clean enough that Jack could see himself reflected in them, white hair, pale skin, blue eyes. The knives were really quite beautiful, finely carved handles of ivory, obsidian, mahogany, even stone, embedded with tiny gemstones that twinkled like stars. They varied in shape and size, from as long as Jack's own arm to as small as the length of his hand. There was even a blade that looked as though it were carved from ice, translucent like crystal. It transfixed Jack, stunned him. Compelled, he bent down to pick it up and examine it further.
The moment Jack's fingers grazed the handle of the knife, an arrow came spiralling from behind Jack, catching the sleeve of his hoodie and pinning him to the ground. Before he could react, another was shot with frightening accuracy just above where Jack clutched his staff, knocking it away without drawing so much as a scratch. Jack looked around, bewildered.
'And what leads you to believe yourself entitled to my possessions, frost elf?' The voice was cool and calm, but weighted with dignity. It resonated with power around Jack, giving him gooseflesh.
Jack turned his body, adjusting for the sleeve still pinned securely to the ground by what appeared to be a hunting arrow made entirely out of gold. His eyes were drawn to the strange, terrifying, beautiful, impossible creature standing before him.
At least seven feet tall, the man's face was concealed by the brown hood of a tan cloak. His feet were donned with fresh hide boots, his legs with sharp burgundy pants neatly tucked in. Most disturbing were the antlers, like a great stag's, protruding from two precise holes made in the man's hood. They were bone white, and curved around the man's head gracefully, yet with intimidation. Well built, the overall impression exuded from the curious stranger was terrible, but beautiful. Jack was struck with reverent awe and the urge to scream, so otherworldly was the man.
'Ah...' Jack swallowed hard, searching for his voice. 'You're Herne, the hunter, right?'
The man nodded slowly. 'Yes, that is my name.' Herne tread closer to Jack, making no sound at all beneath the forest ground. His gait was graceful and fluid like a deer, noble and feral dancing together. Squinting hard, Jack could not make out any facial features concealed beneath Herne's hood; it was a mystery shrouded in darkness.
'Well I, er, we, the Guardians, need your help.' Jack explained quickly. Remembering his purpose loosened his tongue of Herne's intimidation. 'Can you tell me anything about Spring-heeled Jack?'
Herne stopped, and Jack had the impression that Herne was looking directly into his eyes. 'I can.'
'Great!' Jack exclaimed, trying to pry the golden arrow from the ground with his free hand. It was stuck tight, as though embedded in hardened magma. A calloused hand reached over Jack's shoulder and plucked it free with ease, causing Jack to bristle suddenly. Herne was incredibly adept at masking his own presence, even mere inches from him Jack hadn't sensed Herne coming closer behind him. 'Uh, thanks.'
Herne gave another slow nod, and reinserted the golden arrow into the arrow sling wrapped around his torso. Jack immediately walked towards his staff, which lay close to the shore of the brook when he heard the minute sound of Herne drawing his bow taunt, and turned to see it aimed directly between Jack's eyes.
'If we are to talk, you are to make yourself weaponless.' Herne ordered, regality carried in his strange, ancient voice.
Jack froze, hand outstretched. Then, he reluctantly withdrew it and turned to face Herne squarely. 'Hey, I really don't appreciate being threatened. Try asking a question once in a while.' Jack said strongly, sounding braver than he felt. Without his staff Jack felt vulnerable, like a rabbit in a pit of cobras. The arrowhead was balanced perfectly, and the bowstring was deeply pulled. Jack had no doubt it would be able to penetrate through his skull.
Herne remained still, poised. 'You sound hostile.'
Jack tried to backtrack his words, reeling. He raised his hands defensively. 'No, no, I'm just telling you I don't like the arrow aimed at my brain, okay? That's it.' With every exhale Jack was sure the arrow would let loose and skewer him. 'If it counts for anything, I'm sorry.'
Herne tilted his head delicately, as though in thought. 'It does,' he said plainly, and he lowered the bow to the ground. 'Though if you should threaten my wellbeing, or the wellbeing of my forest, my bow will not hesitate. My arrow will fly swiftly.'
Jack nodded, swallowing. 'I understand.' He did not feel like testing Herne's claims.
The antlerred spirit seemed satisfied, slinging the beautiful wooden bow over his shoulder and sitting in front of the empty campfire. The sun had set considerably, evening stars twinkling softly amidst the darkening sky. Herne raised his hand, and flames crackled to life inside the circle of stones, licking at the air and puffing billows of smoke. He gestured for Jack to join him. 'You desire information that I have, and I will give it to you. But you must take a seat, for I have many long tales concerning the wicked spirit Spring-heeled Jack.'
Jack sat down, eyes fixated upon Herne's cloaked head. The night held a mysterious, magical electricity. Owls hooted softly in the distance, and colour mingled with inky blackness that stole away the forest and in its place left a shadowy labyrinth. The moon hung, full and pale in the night. It illuminated Jack's colourless skin, but cast strange shadows over the fire where Herne sat. Jack felt a chill of anticipation rush through him. He leaned forward, the heat of the fire basking his face as he stared into the hollow black abyss that was the face of Herne the Hunter. 'Tell me everything you know.'
Whew, that was fun to write. I hope you enjoyed it, please leave a review to let me know! I truly love reviews, every time I see a little notification in my inbox my heart does a little tap dance, haha. Next chapter will be out asap, but I am starting college and will be a little more strapped for time. Thanks again!