I FORGOT TO MENTION THIS IS GORY. ENJOY YOUR MEAL! PLEASE DON'T TASTE IT A SECOND TIME!

Discovery

Deirdre's POV (Pronounced Dare-Dray)

I'm not normally one to get lost. Okay, I lied. I get lost all the time. But it's only when I'm following something, which I am. I just didn't expect Parsley to wander off. No, I lied again. I wandered off. So what? I'm a curious person! It's in my nature to follow something I'm curious about! So, when Parsley (my boyfriend) and I are searching for a Werewolf in Burgess, Pennsylvania, and I hear something in the brush, I go check it out. And, now I'm lost.

I shove a branch out of the way in anger, and it gets back at me by hitting me in the face. Just when I'm about to chop the whole damn tree down, the wind suddenly knocks me over, my sword skittering just past my fingers. Okay, that's not normal. I jump up, grabbing my sword. Not only is the wind acting up, the soft snow starts swirling, stinging my face.

"Help him, please! Merlin save him! My child! My Jackson! Please, Merlin, help him!" The voice appears to come from all sides, and I realize something. It's the wind. Not skipping a beat I run in the opposite direction the wind is blowing, I don't know why, I just do. Maybe because the wind it talking. I mean, I don't know about you, but that kind of comes off as interesting to me. Pushing branches and jumping over rocks I run as fast as I can, which is pretty fast, even in Combat Boots.

About ten or twenty minutes later, (I'm not good with time, don't judge me!) I come across a frozen pond. The snow is swirling around a spot on the other side, and I can just make out what looks to be someone lying in the snow. Someone covered in blood. I quickly make my way over the ice, careful not to slip. The closer I get, the more I struggle against the wind. I finally break through the barrier, into the eye of the storm. Where a boy no older than fifteen is lying so still. . .

No. He's breathing. I barely notice the white hair, or how pale he is. I notice the fact he has no shoes a little bit more, but I need to focus on the task at hand, and not on shoelessness. (And I can't shake the strange feeling that I know this boy.) What I notice the most is the handle of a blade sticking from his chest. I sheath my sword (the sheath is called Magick. Mostly because I just toss my sword in the air and it disappears. So, Magick.) I start to kneel down to get a closer look at more possible wounds, when something extremely cliché happens. Something barrels into me, sending me flying into the thick forest. When I hit the ground, I immediately spring back up to my feet, sword at the ready, and face. . .

A freaky-looking horse. It is solidly black, aside from it's golden-glowing eyes. And it looks like it's made of sand. Not the werewolf that I had been expecting.

"Okay, I've seen weirder." I mutter to myself. I swing my sword at the creature, which only passes through air. It disappeared. Of course. I look around frantically for it, only to turn around and come face-to-face with a tall man. I gasp and step back.

"What is a little girl doing out in the woods all by herself?" He drawls. He's a British dude. I've had bad luck with British dudes.

"Oh, just hunting a werewolf, trying to save lives. What's your excuse?" I reply. He seems a bit taken aback. I guess it's because I'm not scared, or something like that.

"Maybe some people just like taking a walk in the woods," He takes a step closer to me, and I point my sword at him. "And what is this about a werewolf?"

"That is none of your business. And I can tell you're not human, by the way. Now, give me a good reason why I shouldn't kill you." The man's eyes look up in mock thinking.

"You should kill me, but you won't be able to. After all, you can't kill fear." He cackles, and sinks into the shadows beneath him.

Okay. Second time this happened. I spin in a circle, looking for either the man or the horse. I remember about the boy, and run back to where I came. I'm almost there when I run into Parsley.

"Parsley!" I say frantically as he looks me over, making sure I'm okay. "There's a boy by the lake, he going to die and I need to get over there!" Suddenly a scream cuts through the air, and I start running. He follows me to the lake, where we see something very confusing.

A giant rabbit. Yes. A giant rabbit is picking the boy up, his foot taps the ground twice, and he jumps into a hole. I immediately run to the newly-made tunnel.

"Deirdre, what are you doing?" Parsley asks.

"I'm following a giant rabbit through a mysterious tunnel to possibly save someone's life. You coming?" Without waiting for a response, I jump down the hole, Parsley following in suit.

Out of all the things I was expecting when I jumped, it definitely wasn't a whole lot of snow and ice. Despite the fact I'm wearing a thick hoodie, I still find myself wrapping my arms around myself. Parsley appears behind me, immediately taking his jacket off (he doesn't need it.) and placing it over my shoulders. I pull it all the way on, take out my sword, and we run towards the very large, colorful building ahead.

Bunny's POV

Tooth may not be able to stay mad at Jack, but I definitely can. Sure, I feel bad about screaming those hurtful words in his face, but then he went and did this. I can barely see through the wind and snow. After about an hour of searching, the snow settle a bit, although the wind is still all over the place, signaling that Jack must be calming down. I notice a small glint of light ahead, and realize I must be at the lake. He must be here.

I skirt around the edge of the pond, not daring to step foot on the ice. I would slip. Not because I'm unbalanced, or anything. It would obviously be because I have rabbit feet. It's when I get close to the large, crooked tree right on the edge of the pond that I realize something is not right.

The closer I get, the stronger the wind pushes and pulls. Like two children are pulling on it in an intense game of Tug-o'-War. I crouch lower to the ground to keep myself from falling over. Then I smell the blood. The unmistakable scent of iron lingers in the air. Anyone else wouldn't have noticed, but I am a rabbit. I can practically tell the difference between two oranges by scent.

The smell gets stronger the closer I get to the tree. Something is either dead or dying over there. I finally get close enough to see the streaks of blood on the pond and in the snow. I finally get close enough to see bare, blood-covered feet, the rest of the body hidden by the large tree. I stop, frozen. Slowly, I inch closer. I can now see the brown pants, and the hem of the blue hoodie. Now I can see the hilt of a knife, sticking from his chest. A little bit closer, and I can see his face. His eyes are closed, and it doesn't look like he's breathing.

"J-Jack?" I ask more to myself than the seemingly lifeless form lying in the bloody snow in front of my. I kneel down to feel for a pulse, terrified of what I might find. As soon as my paw touches Jacks throat, his eyes fly open as he starts gasping, each breath hitched. I stumble back, surprised at the sudden outburst. It's not until Jack makes a small noise of pain that I'm able to pull myself together enough to crawl back to his side.

"Hold on, Jack. Jus' hold on. I'm gonna get ya to The Pole and we'll have ya all fixed up. Ya jus' gotta hold on for me, ok? Can ya stay awake for me?" I run a paw through his hair, and Jack slowly nods.

"Alright, well I'm gonna have ta' pick ya up, and it's goin' ta' hurt. Just stay awake." Before I have time to reconsider, I slide my arms underneath him and stand up. I don't think I will ever forget his screams.

By the time I get back to The Pole, I'm almost covered in blood. I yell at the Yeti's to find North and the others. (After I had kicked the door in.) Little did I know, they had been looking for me. I hear Tooth's wings fluttering before I see her. When she catches sight of Jack, she stops in midair, hands over her mouth. Although she looks like she might cry, I know she won't. Tooth never cries. Not even when her parents were murdered. Right behind her, North rushes to me.

"Jack," he whispers when he gets a good look at the terrible shape the boy is in. He looks at me. "Jamie and Pippa are here. Zey told us zat Pitch attacked Jack! But I never thought he would go so far as to. . ." He trails off.

"North, we need to help him now." I say. Norths face hardens. We immediately rush to the infirmary, which we rarely have to use. The entire way, Tooth is flying next to me, stroking Jacks hair and mumbling soothing words, but I think they were more to calm herself down than Jack.

"Where's Sandy?" I ask.

"He had to deliver dreams." North replies simply.

We reach the room and I gently place Jack on the table. He's still conscious, which I have a hard time deciding whether its a good thing or a bad thing. His eyes are wide in obvious pain, and he keeps gasping like he's not getting enough air to his lungs. My gaze immediately falls on the blade in his chest.

"North, we need to get this blade out before we do anythin'. I don' think 'e can breathe." I say. North looks at the blade, and then at me. I know what he's thinking.

"I'll do it." I state simply, but I can't keep the crack out of my voice. North seems to slightly relax. I step next to Jack, my hand hovering over the hilt. I look at Jack, and I see how scared he is. He doesn't want to die again. Jack had told me about a year ago that he had died to become what he is. He didn't tell anyone else and made me promise not to tell, quite threateningly.

I lean down closer to Jack and brush his hair back.

"Jack, this is going to hurt. I'm so sorry, but its the only way to keep you alive. I need you to stay strong for me, okay?" Jack doesn't respond, but I continue anyway. "Alright. On three. One-" I rip the blade out as quick as possible.

Jack can't even scream. His back arches and his fingers dig into the sheet beneath him, but he can't scream. I get a good look at the blade, and my vision turns red.

"I'm gonna kill 'im. I am goin' ta' find Pitch an' kill 'im." The blade is barbed. Not even small barbs like on a fishing hook; both edges are covered in about ten barbs that each stick out about an inch. Not to mention the small bits of tissue that had gotten ripped out when I removed the blade. Something about the tissue seems different, then it dawns on me.

"North," I whisper as to not let my panic show too much. "This is Tissue that makes up lungs." The Cossack and Tooth look at me for a moment, before I hear the sound of something dripping onto the tile floor. I whip around and see Jack, my heart plummeting. He's convulsing, blood spilling over his lips. The wound in his chest is bleeding too fast.

"Hold on, Jack!" I call to him as I press my paws against the wound. I can see him losing the battle for consciousness; his eyes keep rolling back in his head.

"I need to get this hoodie off 'im." I mutter, loud enough for the others to hear. I grab a pair of scissors lying on the table next to me and cut through the fabric. What we see shocks everyone. Not only are there four more stab wounds and severe bruising around his diaphragm, but he's so thin. I mean, yeah, I always knew the kid was skinny, but not this skinny. I can count his ribs, and his hips jut out almost past his stomach. It's a little hard to see, and now I know why he always wears the hoodie. I hear Tooth gasp next to me, she's holding Jacks thin wrist in her hand. Of course, I already knew what's on them, Jack had explained it to me the same day as when he told me how he died.

The other four wounds have almost stopped bleeding, but the one in his chest hasn't slowed down. I apply the pressure once again to the wound. I stay like that for a few minutes until I'm sure the bleeding has mostly stopped. For a human, a wound like this would need surgery or they would die. But for an immortal such as Jack, that was not the case. But it was pretty damn close. During those few minutes of trying to stop the bleeding, Jack had started seizing three times. Probably due to that serious blow to the head.

Finally, we can leave the room without having to worry about him, you know, dying. Not that we do leave. Jamie and Pippa had been sent home, now knowing that Jack was alive and will stay that way. Sandy had come back a while ago, for some odd reason he was very concerned when he saw Jack. Tooth is sitting next to the kid, humming some lullaby and washing the blood out of his hair. I'm currently sitting in a chair on the other side of the room, hating myself.

"Bunny," North asks. I don't lift my head from my paws. "Are you okay?" I shake my head.

"North, if I hadn't yelled at 'im like that, none of this would 'ave 'appened. This is my fault!" I mutter. North doesn't speak for a moment, probably trying to find the best way to tell me No, don't blame yourself! It probably would have happened anyway! When, really, it wouldn't have. Jack would probably be sleeping in the rafters had I not said those things to him. Why do I always hit below the belt like that?

"I know what you are thinking. You think I vill tell you it vas not your fault; that it vas bound to happen. (How the hell does he do that?) I know you vill keep blaming yourself, but Pitch was probably vaiting for a moment when Jack vas alone to strike. This vas that moment. So, it is indirectly your fault. There! a compromise!" He laughs, and I find a way to laugh as well. The worry is (mostly) gone, and I'm starting to believe things will get better.

Until two kids burst into the room; One of them promptly bursting into flames.