Hey gang, I'm baaack! First of all, huuuge thanks to the beautiful talented Xion5 for finally dragging herself back to the unavoidable pit of awesomeness that is Fanfiction! The review was wonderful, thank you so much for reading it and yes, the dream sequence was indeed one of my favorites. I hope you like this one just as much.
And speaking of my wonderful reviewers, thank you Black3st Night I have never heard so many wonderful compliments in my life! I am truly pleased that I have affected you in such a wonderful way and that you like my story that much. As for the creative writing talent I can tell you right now, I only have a fraction of what my friend Xion5 has. By the way, this chapter is dedicated all to you! Thank you for the wonderful review.
To my great bud Fanty, yes I tried to do a real Indian outfit justice. And yes, Pitch's dreaming is going to play an interesting role in the days to come. Meggie's powers are a little more complicated than that, but you'll see what I mean in a bit. For now, I hope this helps ease the excitement!
Pitch was forced to leave not long after she finished off the food. Though he had a lot of questions that were hammering against his skull and begging to be asked, he knew that she wouldn't respond very well and would probably just curl up into a little reclusive ball of fear and anger. Which he wouldn't blame her for in the least. Even though he was trying his best not to scare her, he could still feel the fear practically radiating from her as she shoveled the food into her mouth. Yes, she was afraid, but she wasn't going to admit it.
"Hungry huh?" He asked, watching as she took a huge chomp out of the apple and then a massive swig of water that would've shamed a fish.
She glanced up, her eyes trained on his before she nodded once. Then her attention turned back to her food.
She's like a cat, he thought idly as he watched her bare foot tap agitatedly on the rock. Defensive, ever-moving, even when she's chained down.
He hated seeing her chained up, but he had to reason that it was for her own good! If he had just left her along she would've ended up just like Jack or even him, if she was left along long enough. Anti-social, brooding; she was already showing signs of being defensive and angry, so it was a good thing he had gotten to her when he had.
"So," he said quietly, trying to draw her out of her little shell. "Are you going to tell me your name?"
She stopped eating instantly, as if his words had frozen her in terror. He waited for five second, then ten, wondering if she was too angry or too afraid to answer him. Then she raised her head and he instantly knew that she wasn't afraid. She was angry.
"I'm sorry," he said, quickly retreating and raising his hands in surrender. "I just wanted to know if there was something I could call you."
She gave him that very unnerving glare, holding his gaze for about a minute before she dropped her eyes and started in on her food again. He sighed. It was going to be in a long, tedious process, but he was bound and determined to figure out who she was. Even if she didn't tell him, he would find out.
She finished off the food in less than ten minutes. He picked up the tray with the empty bowl and cup, looking at them thoughtfully and then at the girl. She appeared to still be very hungry, and he asked her about it.
"Would you like more?" He asked, gesturing with the tray. He knew from personal experience that visual interpretations were much better than verbal ones when it came to under-confident people.
She looked at the tray for a moment, then nodded hesitantly.
He nodded back and whistled for a Nightmare to come take the tray. Onyx appeared and walked over to them so that he could give her the empty tray. He did so, setting the empty tray, bowl and cup in a small pouch that was hanging off her back from a saddle he had made specifically for traveling on long journeys. As he patter her mane, telling her what a good horse she was and telling her what to get next he noticed that the girl shirked away a little when the horse drew nearer, and when she disappeared back through the shadows to fulfill her duties she visibly relaxed.
He raised an eyebrow. "I take it you don't care much for my helpers?" He asked, slightly amused by how jumpy she was. Then he shook his head. No, that's not funny! Seeing her scared is not funny! He sighed. Too many years being the Boogeyman, I guess.
"You seem conflicted too."
His head snapped up and he stared straight into her eyes, hardly believing his luck. Had he really just heard her...?
"Did you just..." His voice petered out. She was giving him that look again. The same look she had given him when he had caught her the second time. The confident, snarky, I know something but I'm not telling you look. He had to smile. That look reminded him so much of Jack. "Never mind. I know you said something, but I also know that you're trying to distract me from answering my question."
The corner of her lip lifted just a fraction, but it was enough to encourage him to keep talking to her. She seemed to be in a better mood, now that she had eaten, and he wanted to take advantage of that as much as he could.
"Have you ever seen one of my Nightmares before?" He asked. Maybe this generic question could give him some more information about how old she was, without getting her all cranky.
She shook her head.
Pitch frowned. Hmm, she must be young then. "Ah. I see. Well, did your parents ever tell you about the Boogeyman when you were younger? Do I match the description?"
He could tell instantly that he had made a mistake in asking her. Her head snapped up and he almost flinched. Her eyes were narrowed to dark, venomous slits and she had a scowl on her lips that would've curdled his blood, if he hadn't seen far worse in his lifetime.
"Um...sorry." He offered lamely. Obviously family was a sore spot with her. Maybe they hadn't become spirits along with her, like Jack's family hadn't. She had probably watched them grow old and die before her eyes while she remained young and unchanged.
She shrugged, turning her face away from him and he thought he was a small tear rolling down her face. "Hey," he said, reaching for her shoulder. "It's OK. I lost most of my family too when I became a spirit. It's not an uncommon thing."
She let out a snarl that would've shamed many a lion and jerked her shoulder away from his hand. "Leave me alone!"
He sighed, letting his hand slip back to his side. "Alright, alright I'll stop pushing. But you can't hide from it forever."
They sat in silence for a bit, Pitch watching her intently, reading her body language and trying to determine more about her while she sat stonily, her face hidden by her hair and her gaze firmly fixed on the wall, as if she were trying to bore a hole through which she could escape with just the power of her acidic stare alone. And, if Onyx hadn't come along bearing a full tray of food and water, she might've succeeded.
Pitch took the tray from her back and slid it over to the girl. The water in the cup sloshed slightly over the rim and he apologized, but she didn't seem to care. She pounced on the food just as eagerly as she had before, digging her teeth into a pear that Onyx had brought from his kitchens while simultaneously trying to peel an orange.
Pitch watched her with mild amusement. Most spirits didn't need to eat to survive, but some, like North, chose to do it because they enjoyed it. Spirits that weren't entirely human in origin, like Bunny and Tooth, might have to do it to satisfy their natural needs, but humanoid ones like him and Jack didn't need it to survive. Apparently this girl hadn't figured that out yet.
"You'll get sick if you eat too much too fast." He warned her as she tried stuffing a whole orange in her mouth and only succeeding in dribbling juice down her front. "Not to mention seeds aren't particularly pleasant to eat."
She stopped her feast for just a seconds to give him a look that clearly said she didn't give a damn about his opinions or counsel, which he had expected, before her attention fell back to her food.
He shrugged. "Alright, just wanted to warn you. That's my job, after all."
She rolled her eyes and he could've sworn she muttered something like, uh huh, sure.
"It's true. My job, as a spirit, is to keep children safe by using their nightmares to teach them what to be afraid and what not to be afraid of." He told her, hoping that by explaining his role she might believe him better.
She didn't. In fact she didn't even look up at him as he continued telling her about what made him so important to the human world, how and why he'd been chosen and what his job as a Guardian of Childhood was. He decided to omit certain facts from his history, like his role in the Dark Ages and what he had done in his early years. But everything else he was completely honest about.
He told her about the Nightmare War, Jack and the others, and about how the Man in the Moon had helped him find his true purpose afterwards. It took several hours, and by the time he was done the only time she even made a sign of recognition was when he mentioned the Man in the Moon. But even then it was only a slight narrowing of her eyes which quickly vanished as she noticed him watching her.
"I'm telling you the truth," he told her seriously, trying to keep his temper in check. He had been trying to explain the relationship between belief and spirits, but she had just rolled her eyes and let out a disbelieving snort, as if he were spouting complete rubbish. "Really. Once you learn of your purpose and I let you back out into the world, all this can save your life!"
She chuckled. "Right."
Pitch's temper flared. "You don't know what its like," he told her angrily, gesturing with his hand at the open door. "Out there. You haven't met any other spirits yet, and you're lucky! If you had acted around certain spirits that I know like you're acting around me, you would be either killed or imprisoned, or worse!"
She hunched her shoulders, clearly agitated by what he was saying. Good, he thought with savage satisfaction. Maybe this will get it through her head that there are far worse people than me out there to deal with.
It had definitely made an impression on her, that he could tell by how tense her shoulders were and how she kept her face turned away from him. But he doubted she believed him fully. He sighed, running a hand through his hair tiredly. Normally he would be asleep right now, waiting for the night to come again or in his library, reading. But no, he was sitting on a cold stone floor, trying to reason with a teenage spirit.
Why?! His sanity begged. Why for Manny's sake do you care so much about one little spirit girl that doesn't even care about what you have to say?! She doesn't even know what kind of spirit she is!
Neither did I for the longest time, he told his sanity. That's not something I should hold against her.
Pitch let out a slow breath, waiting for himself to calm down before he could speak again. "Look, I know that you might not believe me about all of this, and quite frankly I don't know why I'm telling you any of this to begin with..." Dammit, he was starting to ramble. Focus Black! Focus! "But, every bit of it can help you when you're a new spirit roaming the world. So whither you decide to listen to me or not, at least I've told you."
She huffed. A strand of her hair was blown away from her face by the small gust of air, revealing a single brown eye.
That reminds me...
"Hey, I was just wondering," he began, making sure to keep his voice steady and calm. "Are you keeping your form like that on purpose or is it your natural form?"
She frowned, looking down at herself as if to ask, what, this? Then her mouth dropped open and her eyes widened in absolute terror as she stared at her dark brown hands which she held in front of her face, splayed wide and turning them over, as if they were the fingers of a stranger.
So, it wasn't intentional then.
"Please, don't be scared. I know how unnerving having your powers react without the ability to control them," he told her quickly, reaching forward to grip her shoulder. Sometimes it helped him to have an anchor to the real world when your powers were getting the best of you. "But there's no reason to be afraid. Your powers are a part of you, and-" he stopped. "What are you doing?"
She had closed her eyes again and had clasped her hands around her knees, rocking back and forth slowly. He watched her for a moment, then asked again. She didn't answer him. Is she trying to change back? He wondered, scanning her for any sign of change in her form or skin tone. He thought he saw a slight lightening of skin around her eyes but, other than that, nothing.
"If you are trying to change back," he said slowly, seeing an opportunity for him to help her and possibly gain her trust. "It helps focus your mind if you think on a pleasant memory. I know you might not have a lot of those, but try to find one. One of you with your family, perhaps. Or laughing with some good friends."
Pitch didn't even see it coming. One instant she was sitting there rocking back and forth, curled up into a little ball, the next she was lunging towards him, her hands hooked like jagged claws and he had to rely on split-second instinct to keep himself from getting lacerated.
He fell against the ground, his heart racing. "What the-" but his words were cut short by another ferocious attempt to eviscerate him which he had to dodge. Thankfully, many years of fighting and a few months of sparring with North and Aster had conditioned him with quick enough reflexes to avoid the violent attacks which, though they were a bit sloppy, were fueled with anger and as such had enough power behind them that they didn't need to be coordinated. He dodged attack after attack, rolling back and forth like a five-year-old in Karate class. Then finally, when he managed to get away from her he stood, backing a few steps away before he asked, "What the hell is wrong with you?!"
She snarled, yanking violently at the chains and trying to break free, but they were too tight. "LET ME GO!" She screamed, kicking her bare feet out at him.
He dodged the kick easily. "No." he told her firmly. "Something is wrong, and I'm not leaving until-"
He was cut short by a blood-curdling scream which leaped forth from the girl as she fell sideways onto the ground, her body thrashing and jerking from the invisible spasms of pain. He watched, dumbfounded as she yelled and kicked as if she were fighting off hordes of demons but there was nothing there. Only her own internal pain.
She's starting to change, he thought, his eyes unwavering as through the spasms, her body began to grow and contort. Her limbs stretched out and her skin faded from the dark brown skin of the child to the lighter skin of the teenager. Her hair shriveled and fell to the ground, turning into dust that was welcomed into the damp rock ground and the new hair began to sprout from her head at an accelerated rate which was apparently quite painful for the girl, as she wailed like a banshee.
Pitch felt his heart breaking as he saw the spasms growing weaker. She wasn't screaming as much, but the muffled whimpers of agony and the sound of her crying was almost worse. I wish I could help her, he thought, watching sadly as she curled in on herself. Her back was to him and she wasn't moving, but she was clearly back in her original form, as he could see from her purple hair and pale skin which glistened in the firelight with sweat.
Pitch waited a tentative few seconds before approaching her, even though the parental instinct portion of his mind screamed at him to help her. But his common sense told him that if she wasn't in full control of herself she might hurt him accidentally- hell, she would probably hurt him if she was on full control of her powers, out of fear and anger. But, regardless, he knew the anguish and self-torment one would go through after hurting another being accidentally, and he wasn't going to put her through that.
He took a step forward, one of his massive strides that were probably three human strides, and within two more he was at her side, kneeling hesitantly and shaking her shoulder. "Hey, are you alright? Can you hear me?"
No response.
"Hey!" He said, a little louder. "Girl, are you conscious?"
No, she wasn't. The pain had knocked her out.
Pitch sighed, pulling away and resting on the balls of his feet as he contemplated his new situation. She was out cold, probably still feeling the effects of her change, and he was sure the cold stone floor wasn't helping.
I can't leave her here, he thought as he noticed her starting to shiver. She'll catch her death of cold! But he couldn't take the chains off either, or she would try to escape again! It was a powerful dilemma, one that he had never ever in a million years thought he would be mentally debating, and he wasn't sure what he should do. Maybe I should go tell the others, he mused, glancing up at the ceiling. They had more experience in dealing with children than he did, after all.
Are you forgetting the Nightmare war? Those morons didn't have the first clue how to treat children.
Pitch jumped. "Onyx!"
The obsidian horse which had been standing behind him for the better part of ten minutes snickered. You're getting old Pitch, she told him, sidling over to him and pushing her nose underneath his hand. If you can't detect one of us sneaking up on you I think it's time to retire.
He rubbed her muzzle gently, smiling in spite of himself. "Isn't that why I created you?" He asked, giving her nose a scratch which made her snuffle with pleasure. "To keep me on my toes?"
She leaned her huge head against his chest and neck, her warm breath instantly providing a sense of comfort that none of the other Nightmares had ever given him. Oh, and here I thought it was because you needed a hobby.
Pitch chuckled, rubbing her smooth neck. In spite of her being made from sand, she felt and acted just like any real horse would. "Alchemy isn't a hobby, Onyx." He chided her. "It's an exact science that took me many years to fully comprehend the boundaries."
And when you did actually succeed in an experiment it was because of sheer dumb luck.
Pitch pulled his hand away, scowling. "I am sooo under-appreciated," he muttered, turning his attention back to the girl. "Now, while I'm glad for your company and conversation, there is a more pressing matter to attend to."
Onyx looked down, finally noticing the girl. She stepped forward, pushing on her shoulder with her muzzle. Pitch waited to see what would happen with baited breath but she didn't move. Onyx glanced back at him.
So, I see your charm, wit and good looks have knocked another female dead. She quipped.
Pitch raised an eyebrow. "Have you been spending time with Jack?" He asked, wondering where she had gotten this new-found less than dry sense of humor.
She shook her head. Nope. Just watching a lot of Comedy Central. You should have never gotten cable by the way. The signal is shit.
Pitch opened his mouth to ask her to elaborate, then he shook his head and put it out of his mind. "We'll come back to this later," he promised. "But for now, what am I going to do with her?" He gestured at the girl helplessly.
She tossed her head in what was a Nightmare's equivalent of a shrug. I don't know, get a glass of water and throw it at her?
Pitch sighed dejectedly. "I've tried waking her up but she's in deep sleep, way past dreaming and almost into the realm of comatose! If she sleeps anymore she's going to get sucked into the void and her consciousness will be lost!"
Onyx tossed her head again. Then why don't you try going into her mind through a nightmare and talk to her that way? She asked patiently, though her master's pigheadedness was grating on her nerves. That way you can be in control, and she can't hurt you. You might even get to learn a little more about her from the context of the nightmare.
The Nightmare King rolled his eyes. "It's not as simple as that On-" Then he stopped, mulling her advice over. "Actually…" he murmured quietly, watching the girl's huddled form as the cogs of his brain began to whirr and revolve, grinding out some small facsimile of an idea which took root and began to grow like a seed in his thoughts. He would have to time it perfectly, that was for certain. The bad dreams induced by his inkquitious sand weren't like the Sandman's benign dreams where you could enter any time. They were private and solitary, never wanting to give way to spectators was just part of their nature. But for him, they made an exception.
Onyx nodded, pulling her lips back in a Nightmare's hideous interpretation of a grin. He was getting it now. So, are you going to try? She asked eagerly.
Pitch bobbed his head in ascent, slowly turning around to face the obsidian horse but never taking his eyes off of the girl. "Yes, I'm going to try. Will you keep watch, in case the others smell her fear and come looking?"
She agreed, trotting quietly over to the door and turning so that her flank barred any from entering or exiting. Let the others just try to get past her.
Pitch nodded his thanks, turning his full attention back on the girl. Her exposed arms were bubbling with goosebumps and she was curled up into such a tight little ball that he was slightly worried about her ability to breathe. Then he remembered that she was a spirit and that they didn't need breath. He leaned forward, brushing the violet-colored hair away from her face gently until he could make out her forehead. She looked so scared, he thought idly as he prepared to delve into her mind. Though, oddly enough there wasn't a single grain of sand touching her, and he didn't sense any Nightmares nearby, apart from Onyx. Strange.
He laid his large, spidery hand on her forehead, like a father checking a child's fever and closed his eyes, letting a few slim tendrils of sand leak from his fingertips. This was a delicate process, and he wanted it done right if he was going to help her. If she had been a normal human, this might've been a bit easier. But she wasn't. She was a spirit, and the minds of spirits tended to be much more complicated than those of mundane humans, as his past experiences in regaining his memories had taught him. He had had to dive deep, wrenching the heartache from his mind and casting it out like a disease before his memories had finally returned, with Manny's help of course. This wouldn't be easy.
"If you hear either one of us scream," he told Onyx quietly, sending the first gentle probes of sand into her consciousness, searching for an inlet. "Don't worry. It'll probably be her."
Onyx tilted her head to the side. Just what is it you are planning to do to this girl? She asked but it was too late. The sand had found its way in and he was already deep into the many passageways and interconnected thought railroads that are a spirit's mind. She snorted softly, slightly worried. Not for the girl's sake of course, but for her masters'. She'd seen that girl fight before, and wouldn't be surprised in the least if he came out looking like he'd just gone ten rounds with a garbage disposal.
Time passed second by crawling second. Each minute was another daunting step closer to the girl's consciousness being lost to the void, but Onyx had faith that he would bring her back. Pitch wasn't one to be deterred when something was on his mind, especially when it came to the safety of people he cared about. Even if he barely knew the girl, it was obvious he cared about her and her well-being. Even if he didn't know why.
She sighed. He's taking an awful long time just to talk to her, she thought silently, watching her master and the girl. Pitch appeared to have his eyes closed and his hand remained glued to her forehead, never moving an inch. The girl, on the other hand, wasn't so still. Onyx could hear her little snuffling noises as she jerked and twisted beneath Pitch's hand, but she never rolled far enough to detach herself.
Oh, I would give anything to be able to see what was going on inside that girl's head right now! Onyx shuffled her hooves anxiously. Though she could smell the flavorful aroma of fear rolling off of the girl like smoke, there were no distinct sources of fear which she could detect. Everything was so muddled and mixed together like a potion, creating even more sources of fear that confused and disoriented her. She shook her head to clear it, trying to eject the intoxicating aromas of fear which she had been starved of for so long. I need to stay sharp and alert. Pitch ordered me to protect the girl, and I will follow that order dammit!
Though she needn't have been so hard on herself, as Pitch woke up not three minutes later.
It began slowly. He opened his eyes, blinking a few times as he stared straight ahead, his mind still half in the grips of whatever he had seen. Onyx watched patiently as he eased his mind back into the world around him. The hand dropped from her forehead and she mumbled. Pitch's gaze snapped down to her face and Onyx blinked in surprise as the most pitiful, melancholy, forlorn and woebegone look that she had ever seen cross the Boogeyman's fine features fell across his face. He looked utterly dejected, as if what he had seen had topped all other horrors he had seen in his ten thousand years.
Onyx waited for a few seconds before she dared approach her master. So? She asked, taking a step forward. What did you see?
He didn't respond. Onyx's eyes, which could see as well in the dark as any sniper scope, could clearly see the tension of his body, as if he were ready to spring into a fight at the slightest provocation. The hand that had slipped from the girl's forehead was clenched and the other laid on his lap, fingers bent with his nails digging into his leg.
He's not angry, she thought, her eyes never leaving him as she took another step forward. He's furious!
Pitch? She asked again hesitantly, scared of her master for the first time in her long, long existence. Something that he had seen had made him go from gucci to enraged in five seconds flat and whatever it was, she wasn't sure she wanted to know.
He took a long, slow breath, his hands relaxing a little. When he spoke, his voice was riddled with forced calm. "We need to help her Onyx." He told her softly. His undertone of sadness which was perfectly audible and matched his mask-like expression.
Onyx bobbed her head. It was final then. There was no arguing with that voice. Not that she even wanted to argue! Actually, she was starting to like the girl. Her spunk and the way she acted around Pitch was…refreshing to say the least. A nice reprieve from the usual screaming or- as was in most cases these days after than damn movie had achieved stardom, fangirling. I agree. She told him, walking over to his side. She was no longer afraid any more. His anger had passed. Now he was just…was sad the word? Maybe. And, since you are a Guardian of Childhood now you should be helping her any way.
"She's not a child." His voice was so quiet that even her sensitive ears could barely detect it. "She's a teenager. Sixteen years old, I think."
Onyx nodded. So you did go into her memories. Did you talk to her? Did you see anything interesting or useful?
He shook his head. "I couldn't. The Nightmare would only let me watch her." The unsaid words rang in the air. But it was enough. "As for her memories, I could only scratch the surface. Her memories were protected by a huge lattice of walls and barriers that refused to let me past them."
Like your memories, before you freed them?
"No. Mine were caged by the Fearlings." Pitch explained. "I knew that they were there, but I couldn't reach them because of the cages that the Fearlings had created specifically to block me. The girl knows she's missing her memories, but at the same time she is the one who is suppressing them consciously. And her barriers are infinitely more complex than mine."
OK, now she was curious. How so? She asked.
He shrugged. "I only glimpsed a fraction of it to be honest, but from what I could see they didn't just represent mental barriers. They represented physical barriers that she had dealt with in her lifetime, and there were a lot of them." He broke off, sighing. "This girl has been through some traumatic things. Things so terrible that she is forcing herself to forget in order to maintain mental sanity and I can't just let that be!"
Onyx saw that his fists were white with how tightly he was clenching them and his eyes had been drawn into narrow slits. Wow, this is really hitting home for you, isn't it? She asked, walking over to him and laying her head down over his shoulder. She pushed at his hand until he raised it up and started stroking her, but it was more for his benefit than hers.
He nodded, closing his eyes as his fist unclenched and he slid his hand down her neck. He didn't verbally respond, but he didn't need to. She had known him for thousands and thousands of years, if he was even a squick unhappy she would know. If he was the tiniest bit annoyed she could feel it through their strong bond, forged from countless adventures with each other and untold numbers of years as friends. In short, she knew. Even if he wasn't telling.
Minutes passed and the girl started to shiver again. Pitch stared on blankly, his mind far away in unknown places which she dared not penetrate.
Pitch, Onyx prodded gently, bumping her nose against his hand to remind him that there were more important things at hand than moping about past troubles. She's starting to get cold.
Pitch blinked, coming back out of his memories. "Right, yes." He stood. "What should I do with her?"
Onyx gestured to the bed not far away. Well, the smart thing to do would be to get her out of those chains and into the warm bed. She began but immediately he interrupted.
"I can't, she already tried to run at least three times, and I can't risk her leaving!" He said, gesturing to her chains. "Those are probably the only thing keeping her here now!"
She gave him the most unimpressed deadpan look a nightmare can give. Pitch, just transfer the chains to the bed! She told him exasperatedly. Really, it's not that hard. This way she'll be comfortable and feel safer and you can keep an eye on her!
He opened his mouth to argue, then he realized just how brilliant a plan it was and he shut his mouth.
Onyx tossed her head proudly. There you go. She told him firmly, casting a side-long glance at the girl. Now you'd better hurry, before the cold wakes her up.
Pitch snapped back to reality and quickly set about transferring the girl to the bed. Onyx watched impassively as he pulled the chains out of the wall and transferred them back to the wall behind the bed, carrying the girl with him. He laid her down on the bed gently so as not to disturb her, put a blanket over her so that she wouldn't freeze and, after making sure the bonds were tight, left, leaving Onyx to watch over her.
What do I do when she wakes up? The horse asked as he stopped in the doorway, turning around to face her. His face was set in a grim but determined expression that she had seen only a few times in her lifetime, and only ever right before a huge undertaking that would later test his strengths, both physical and mental, to the absolute limit.
He looked at the girl who was still sleeping peacefully beneath the black covers, then back at her. "Talk to her. Keep her calm, if you can. But don't come get me until you know for sure that she is awake. I'm going back outside, then back to my library. There's someone I need to have a chat with." His voice was pure steel and the look of fury burning in his eyes indicated that whoever he was going to talk to, they would be lucky to escape with their lives.
Onyx nodded, standing firmly in the doorway like a statue, forever watchful with her twin torch-like eyes burning back the darkness. I will do as much as I can, Pitch. She promised.
He gave her a single curt nod, then turned on his heel and left.
Boy, Onyx thought, shifting her gaze back to the girl. I'd sure hate to be the poor idiot that has incurred the Nightmare King's wrath.
XXXXXXXXX
"LUNAR!"
The name, hurled from the thin lips of the Boogeyman, split the air like a gunshot. Here, out in the open of his lair entrance there weren't any thick rock walls or ceilings to make the beautiful, terrifying acoustics which normally accompanied his yelling; but the single word was enough to make any spirit, animal and human that could hear him turn tail and run. There was so much anger and fury in that solidary two-syllable word that Pitch could practically feel the venom as he repeated it, howling up at moon which hung as a sickle in the sky like a demented wolf.
"LUNAR! ANSWER ME NOW!"
He waited, his chest heaving. He was about ready to split Manny's skull open for the brief glimpses in that girl's memories! True, he hadn't seen everything there was to see, but he had seen enough. That girl was a broken and tortured soul, and instead of letting her rest in eternal sleep like she deserved, someone had decided to bring her back as a bloody spirit! But that wasn't the worst part.
"No," Pitch seethed, glaring up at the moon with a hatred only he could fathom. "The worst part is that he didn't even bother to tell the girl her gods-damn name! LUNAR!" He added, screaming the name skyward a third time. No response. "TSAR LUNANOFF THE NINTH I WILL COME UP THERE AND DRAG YOUR SILVER ASS DOWN HERE UNLESS YOU ANSWER ME NOW!"
He scanned the skies, waiting for a moonbeam to shine down to earth as a portal and listening intently, in case Manny chose to speak directly to him, but after ten minutes of waiting he threw up his arms in disgust and started stomping back towards his lair. It had been an empty threat, and Manny knew it. He could no more shadow-travel to the moon than Jack could sun-tan in Miami.
Pitch,
Pitch whirled around, recognizing the soft voice instantly. He expected to see the silvery-haired teen standing a few feet away, leaning on his staff and watching him like the silent Guardian he was or sitting on one of the rocks that encircled Jack's lake, swinging the diamond-tipped weapon like Jack tended to do so frequently. But he saw nothing.
"Nightlight," he spoke the name with a little more venom then he meant to. It wasn't the elder Lunanoff prince he had a problem with, after all. It was the younger. "Get your brother. I need to speak with him now."
Nightlight's voice went even softer. I can't do that Pitch. He doesn't know I'm using the moonbeams to contact you now and even if he did, he would have my hide for disobeying him.
Pitch clenched his fists and started to pace along the beach of the lake. "You can blame it on me," he told the elder Lunanoff, trying to keep his voice even. Oh, he was going to raise hell in a minute. "You can tell him whatever you like, that I blackmailed you into it or whatever, but get him down here or put him on the telepathic phone NOW!"
I can't do that Pitch, Nightlight protested, his whispery voice rising a few octaves. For one, he's sleeping and that's why he can't hear you. He has a special sand that Sanderson made for him that keeps all our voices out until he wakes up. It's pretty exhausting work, being the creator of most of the spirit realm, and even the great Man in the Moon needs a break sometimes. And for another, he can't help you with your problem.
Pitch took several deep breaths to calm himself, though he wanted to explode. "Just typical," he muttered, kicking at the dirt beneath his feet as he paced back and forth beneath the starlit sky. "The one night I need the bastard he's asleep! I never ask him for anything and yet the one bloody time I do-"
Pitch, calm down please. You'll wake up the entire town. Nightlight told him softly, the single ray of moonlight flickering nervously for a second as if debating whether to leave the Boogeyman to sort himself out on his own. Then the light grew stronger, brighter, and Nightlight's voice came back, steadier than before. You know that isn't true anyway. He listened to you, even when no one else would. When you were an outcast and praying that someone, anyone, would end your suffering, he listened. He just couldn't do anything, as it would tamper with your destiny. Everything that has transpired today, even your pain, was meant to be. And look at you! You've become a warrior of the night because of it!
The Nightmare King rolled his eyes and a low growl escaped his lips, reminiscent of the deep rumbling heard just before a volcano erupts. "Alright, I will grant you that everything worked its way out in the end. But my current predicament remains to be seen."
Indeed it does, Nightlight told him dryly. Since you haven't told me what your problem is to begin with.
Pitch clenched his fists. "I'll tell you what my problem is, you insufferable glowworm," he spat, stopping dead in his tracks and glaring at the ray of moonlight which shrank back a little out of self-preservation. "There is a girl cowering in my caves- a teenage human girl, who was brought back by your brother," he hissed the noun as if it were pure acid on his tongue. "As some sort of shape-shifting spirit."
Nightlight's voice was dead silent as Pitch continued to rant and rave.
"And that's not the worse part! She is purposefully repressing her memories! Not subconsciously, and they aren't being blocked by another source. Purposefully!" He was letting it all out now. His anger that Manny would dare tamper with such an innocent soul, just to bring her back as one more in a sea of spirits, his sadness for the girl, and many other unnamed emotions that he was too blinded by the first two to name. "And that still isn't the worst part!"
What is? Nightlight's voice asked hesitantly. The moonbeam was quaking with fear, shimmering like the light reflected on the wall of a pool's azure waters.
The anger was rolling off of him like waves now, filling him with an insatiable desire to hurt the Man in the Moon. Hurt him, like he had hurt her. "The worse part," he snarled, shadows dripping from his hands as he clenched them tight enough to draw blood form the cuts that his nails were inflicting. "Is that she doesn't know anything about being a spirit! Hell, she didn't even know she was a spirit until I told her, after three- no, four escape attempts. Gods above when I first found her she couldn't even speak to me because she was so afraid! I asked her what her name was, she wouldn't tell me. I asked her how much she knew about the spirit world, she knows nothing! How the hell can he justify bringing a child's soul-"
Pitch,
"-into a job she knows nothing about and expects her to find her way without any guidance or-"
Pitch,
"-way to help her. I want to help her, but she's so afraid…" Pitch broke off, the anger suddenly morphing into utter and dejected sadness. He sank to his knees, looking down at his lair entrance as remorse for what she had been forced to become permeated the thick husk of anger. He closed his eyes. "She's so afraid, Nightlight. I can feel it from here." His voice was barely more than a whisper as more tendrils of fear began to appear on his internal radar. The most fear within a hundred-foot radius was located a few hundred feet below, in his caverns. And he doubted that it was another terrified spelunker.
Can you feel what she is afraid of?
Pitch tried to focus on her fear, drawing it towards him and picking through it like a bag of trail mix. It was like a soupy mixture of fear, despair, hate, anger and sadness, as most fears were, but Pitch ignored all that and zeroed in on the core fear. The cold truth. The true reason she was afraid. He looked into her mind's eye and saw again the same ghostly apparition he had seen when he had tried to penetrate her Nightmare. A little girl, sitting all alone in the darkness, chattering madly away to herself as if no one else in the world existed.
"She's…afraid of being alone." He finally said, opening his eyes. "Afraid of being left all alone, with only the voices in her head."
There, right there. Nightlight said triumphantly. That's why you should help her. You say that my brother did wrong by pulling her soul out of Death's void and turning her into a spirit, prove to me that he didn't. Help her become the person she's meant to be!
Pitch shook his head but the light spirit continued.
She's just like you were once Pitch. A lost, innocent soul. A blank slate, if you will, just like every spirit. Someone who could be used to do great good to the world, or great evil. Or, in some rare cases like yours, both. All she needs is a little help and someone to take care of her. You can be that person!
He barked out a laugh, a bit of the old Pitch coming back. "Me? I'm probably the thing that terrifies her most right now, besides being alone." He scoffed. "Me, help her. Ridiculous."
Why would you terrify her? Nightlight asked, sounding puzzled.
Pitch sighed as if he were speaking to an idiot. "Nightlight, have you forgotten to whom you are speaking? I'm the Boogeyman! The terror under the beds! Yes I'm rehabilitated but I'm still the thing that lurked in the shadows in the minds of the children who I terrified. Not to mention the Nightmares already scared her within an inch of her afterlife by feeding off of her." He clenched his fists, remembering how utterly terrified she was. He turned away from the light. "No, I am not the best candidate to help this girl. Maybe Tooth or North, maybe even Jack, but not me."
And why the hell not? Nightlight challenged, and Pitch saw the moonbeam flicker once before it settled into a steady, pulsing light. You have a daughter and a grandchild now, as well as all of Tooth's daughters. You know about children as much as the others do, maybe even more so, because all of those years in the dark when you were still the Boogeyman of old. You had more contact with children than any of the Guardians have had in decades, barring the Nightmare war. He added when Pitch opened his mouth to interrupt. So why can't you try to take care of her?
Pitch sighed. "You're so naive." He muttered scornfully. "Do you really think that the Guardians will let me take care of her, a lost and memory-less spirit? Spirits like that are just asking for trouble. They don't know the rules or how to do their job. If I get roped into this and something goes wrong, they'll blame me and then I'll be out on my ass."
Why do they have to know? Nightlight asked innocently. You can keep her a secret until she's strong enough and knows the ropes of her powers to go out on her own.
Pitch sat down on a stump. "Nightlight, she's already tried to escape the caves four times." He replied blandly. "I don't think keeping her a secret for however long it takes to train her will be a viable solution. And that's assuming she even wants to be helped in the first place."
Sometimes what we want isn't exactly the same as what we need. Nightlight said wisely. And what she needs right now isn't a home, or training. What she needs… is a friend.
Pitch hung his head, suddenly feeling exhausted by the last few days. He couldn't remember a time when he had ever felt so stressed. Not even in the weeks before the Nightmare War. "I don't know if I can be a friend," he whispered. The heaviness of this decision was weighing down on his shoulders, making him feel as if he had the world itself slung across his back. If he did this, if he took her in, there would be no going back. And likewise if he turned her over to the Guardians. "What should I do?!" He practically begged the light spirit, small tears welling in the corners of his eyes. "I- I can't-"
Pitch, listen to me. Nightlight said calmly. He had witnessed many a meltdown and he knew exactly how to keep things calm. Just follow what your heart tells you to do. He advised. If you want to take her in its going to be a long, hard process that may takes months or even years until she finally trusts you, but in the end it will be worth it because you know you will have helped another spirit like you weren't helped. However, you aren't obligated to do anything. It's your choice. The curse of having free will again huh?
He was trying to be funny. Pitch didn't laugh. "But what if I screw up?!" He demanded. "What if she can't learn from me? What if…" He let the unspoken words, what if I turn her dark, go unspoken. Though Nightlight could practically hear them ringing in the silence.
You won't. Nightlight assured him. The Fearlings are gone Pitch, forever. There is no way you could possibly turn her dark. Though, he added after a few seconds pause. She might turn dark if you don't help her. Like I said it's all dependent on the spirit. Your taking her in could be the best thing to happen to her, or it could be the worst. Time will only tell.
Pitch rolled his eyes. "You are the worst person to ask advice from, you know that?" He grumbled, folding his arms over his chest. It was a cold night, and though spirits were immortal to an extent, they weren't immune to the elements.
Eh. People have a habit of asking for my help and advice, whither I want to give it or not. He replied modestly.
Silence reigned for a little while, the cool air whistling through the trees and the echoing noises of the night encroaching in on him. Sounds like birds squawking, trashcans banging as alley cats knocked them over in the process of play-fighting and the distant murmur of people that were still awake in houses.
Finally, Nightlight spoke. So, are you going to help her?
The fearsome Nightmare King sighed tiredly, raising his hand to his forehead. "Do I have a choice?" He was starting to get a migraine.
Of course. You always have a choice Pitch. The other spirit replied.
Pitch sighed again, mulling it over in his head. Weeks, maybe months of work, training, letting her stay in my home and eat my food, keeping a secret from the others and Tooth which could potentially come back to bite me in the ass later, and all for some strange spirit girl that I barely know. Was it really worth it that much?
Yes. Yes it was.
"Alright, alright I'll help her." He agreed, rubbing his pulsing temples. He would help her. He would give her the guidance and friendship that he never received, and in return… well, he could get to that later. Then he looked back up at the sky and said firmly, "But you had better tell your brother I still need to talk to him."
The little beam of light shivered in what he assumed was agreement, then it dissipated like fog in the wind. Pitch lingered up top for another moment before wearily dragging himself back to his caves, in the direction of his library. He had a lot of thinking and planning to do, and where better to plan the future than in the comfort of his own chair!
XXXXXXXXX
Meanwhile, back in the caves, I was already partially awake from my Change-induced coma.
Normally I didn't sleep much and, as you've seen when I do sleep, it's less than peaceful. But this time, I woke up from a still sleep. No dreams, no nightmares, not even a single one of those strange visions that had been plaguing me since my first night. Just still, peaceful darkness that allowed me to release and relax, for the first time in what felt like a very, very long time. The sleep was so complete and so deep that I can't think what might've woken me up.
Aside from the creepy golden eyes of that demon-horse which was standing not two feet away.
However, when my eyes first cracked open and the gentle candle-light washed in, the shock was enough to force them shut and as such I didn't see the horse at first.
I groaned, raising my hand to my eyes and then to my head as a thunderous headache erupted right above my right eye in my temples. I clutched my head, moaning softly. Oh gods that hurt! Agony, pure undulating agony of the sort that I hadn't felt since my first night in Burgess fought for dominion inside my skull, pressing down on my brain until I felt as if I would pass out again.
"Ooooh," I moaned pathetically, too wrapped up in my pain to give a damn about who saw me and who didn't. I started rolling around, thrashing, anything to try and relieve the pressure but nothing worked. If anything, the movement just aggrivated my massive headache. "Make it stoooop!"
Are you alright child?
I froze in mid roll. Even though my eyes were still closed from that blast of evil candle-light, my hearing was in perfect repair and I listened closely, wondering if that had been my imagination.
It wasn't.
Child?
The voice was coming from my left. Not his voice, that was obvious. It was softer, more feminine. What, had he brought his girlfriend to gawk at me now too? I grimaced as a wave of pain shot through me. Right. Thinking, bad. Hurts like a mother-bugger. No thinking.
I heard a muffled clip-clop sound, followed by a soft snuffling noise and felt something cold pushing against my shoulder. My entire body seized up as if I had been injected with a paralytical drug and, in spite of my pain, my breathing started to rapidly speed up.
Do not be afraid child, I am not like my sister. The voice said and again I felt the cold object pushing against my shoulder. Be calm, please. I'm not going to hurt you.
Somehow, that didn't calm me down in the slightest. I can't imagine why. However, it did help apease my headache somewhat. Enough for me to move without pain stabbing me behind my eyes at least. I turned, slowly, to face whatever was standing over me, hoping to the gods that it wasn't another one of those creepy demonic horse-thingies.
Hope springs eternal.
My eyes locked with its fiery golden ones and I inhaled sharply. The horse backed away. It could sense my fear. I knew that by the way it moved and how its eyes remained locked with mine. Though strangely, as we continued to stare at each other I found myself growing less and less afraid. It was as if something in those eyes was...talking to me. Telling me through my thoughts that everything was truly alright until I felt safe enough to break eye contact long enough to sit up.
Once I did so, the world became much clearer. I was back in the room again, but this time I was laying on the bed I had originally woken up in. Under the covers, to be exact. I wiggled my feet and watched the little bumps at the foot of the bed move. Yep, they were my feet. I looked back at the demon-horse, but before I could even ask the question she answered for me.
Yes, he put you here.
I noticed her lips didn't move when the words came out and decided that she must be speaking inside my head. I decided to go with it. Plenty of stranger things have happened, after all. "Why?" I asked, keeping my eyes down and away from hers, instead focusing my attention to the world around me. The room was much better lit than before, with gently burning torches sitting in iron brackets mounted on the walls, giving the place a slightly dungeon-esque look. Said look was enhanced, however, when I suddenly realized I was still chained up.
As any woman's first instinct is when she finds herself chained up, mine was to start thrashing and yanking at the wrought iron links which bound me. They bashed together with a resounding clink that did nothing but annoy my ears. The horse whinnied.
He put you here because you were shivering, and because in spite of what you may think he does not wish to bring you any more harm.
I gave it a dower look. "Really?" I asked flatly.
Yes.
It was so simple a word, yet it was said with such authority that I nearly believed her.
"Right." I murmured, casting my gaze around to see where the exits were. There was only one door that I could see, and the horse was standing right in front of it. "And that's why he knocked me out. Twice."
He knocked you out because you kneed him in the crotch child, she- at least, I think it was a she from the softness of her voice, told me tersely. I'm sure you would've done the same thing, had it been you.
I rolled my eyes, looking back at the horse. I sized her up. "What are you anyway, some kind of hybrid demon-horse conscience for him?" I demanded. This was the first time I had gotten a close-up look at her and, now that I saw her, I felt a little in awe. But I didn't let it show. She was...magnificent. Yes, that was the only word I could equate to her. Her skin rippled black and shimmering, her mane hanging like a curtain of obsidian glass and her eyes, those astoundingly bright golden eyes burning holes into my forehead when I didn't look at her.
She shook her head. No. And I have a name you know. She sounded a little miffed.
I cocked my head to the side, curious. "Really? What is it?"
Onyx.
I repeated the name softly under my breath, seeing how it sounded. Onyx.
And I am not a demon. The newly dubbed horse continued, somehow forcing my eyes back up to hers. Her voice inside my head was cold, slightly angry. I am a Nightmare.
I couldn't help myself. "Aww, what a pretty little Nightmare." I cooed mockingly.
The horse reared back as if I had struck her with a whip, letting out a shrill whinny of alarm and kicking out with her right hoof. I've seen enough horse movies with Cupcake to know that she was clearly distressed by something, so I scooted back a bit on the bed in hopes of avoiding a blow form those nasty-looking hooves, but my chains would not let me go far.
Her front hooves came down like a thunderclap, sending tremors through the cave-room and shaking the bed I was cowering on. Yes, I was cowering. On top of the blankets, curled up into a little ball of purple hair and frightened eyes. And I have no shame in it. Something about this horse practically radiated grandeur and presence. This was not a being to be ignored, whatever she was, and yet I could see by the way she moved and shifted restlessly that she was accustomed to lurking in the shadows.
Onyx stared at me for a long moment, her sides heaving from that one rush of anger, wherever it had come from. I was still curled up in my little ball, terror coursing through my system. What would she do? Would she call him? Her golden eyes were half-lidded but, because she didn't have cornea or pupils or even irises, it was hard to tell if she was mocking me or pitying me.
Finally, she started to move. I heard her hoof-beats, like heels on concrete as she sauntered towards me and I shut my eyes, wondering if she were going to feed off of me like the last one had. I pulled my hands in tight, bracing myself for whatever was to come. Something cold touched my arm and I jumped, pulling even tighter in on myself thinking, no, go away! A warm breath of air caressed my cheek and I felt something warm and rough resting against my neck. It spoke.
Forgive me. She said, her voice soft and hesitant as she nuzzled my neck with her cold nose, sending shivers down my spine. I am not here to scare you, or hurt you.
Against my better judgment I gave the first answer that came to mind. "Really? Seems like you are doing a pretty good job of both." I half expected her to pull away and leave me or go call him, but she didn't move. Her warm neck stretched out over my arm as she laid her forehead against mine.
I'm sorry you feel that way. But I am a creature devoted to fear. It's going to take me a while to get used to comforting children. The funny thing was that she really did sound apologetic.
"I'm not a child," I growled, pushing her away. "And you don't have to baby me."
She moved away from me, her lips pulled back in what I took to be a smirk. That is certainly true, she replied, looking me up and down with a piercing intensity that I found very unnerving and chose to look down at my hands while she continued. However, there is nothing wrong with wanting help.
I shrugged. OK, now that I knew where I was and who I was with, it was question time. And I wasn't liking where this current direction of conversation was going anyway, so I swiftly changed it. "So," I said slowly, looking around. "Where am I?"
She tossed her head gently, making her mane bounce. Underground. She replied evasively.
I rolled my eyes. "No shit Black Beauty." My voice came out as a repugnant drawl. "What I meant was, where underground? Are we still in Burgess at least? Am I going to have to steal a map when I get out of here?"
Yes, we are still in Burgess. Or, rather, underneath of it. She whinnied a little laugh, then when she saw my confused look she explained, My master lives in these caves which run deep beneath the streets of the town and connect to passageways all across the world. That is how he travels from continent to continent to do his duty, along with other means. This is his home.
I raised an eyebrow. "Do his duty?" I repeated. "What does that mean? Who is he anyway? And how did he get…" I gestured at her, my chains clinking as I moved. "You? What are you even?"
I am a Nightmare. She replied evenly, raising her head as if she took great pride in the title. It is my sworn duty to protect children, both young and old, from unnecessary fear that lurks in their hearts and the foolishness of not having enough fear.
I frowned. "Sworn by who? The creepy guy in the man-dress?"
She rolled her eyes. Why does everyone think it's a dress? She grumbled, scraping her hoof across the floor in irritation. It's a robe, and I think it looks very intimidating.
I chuckled. "Yeah, if you were, like, a five-year-old."
She inclined her head. Point taken. But yes, he is Pitch Black, the Boogeyman. Guardian of Courage.
I rolled the name around in my head, yet more questions sprouting off from this less than helpful answer. The Boogeyman. I had heard the name previously from Cupcake several times during one of her strange stories, but I had just assumed it was another character in one of her fantasies. Come to think of it, I seemed to recall Cupcake talking about shadow-horses too. Had she called them Nightmares? I wasn't sure. But if Cupcake had seen then and this 'Boogeyman', maybe he wasn't quite as insane as I had first pegged him to be.
That's not to say I believed him about all that spirit realm stuff, and once I was safely back in Cupcake's house I was going to have a serious talk with her about trusting strange grey guys in man-dresses, but I honestly would've been stupid to still think that this was all a hoax. That sand sure as hell had been real. The demon-horse that had bit me had been real. So why couldn't this claim that he was the Boogeyman be valid as well?
"He sure as hell doesn't look like I would picture the Boogeyman," I told Onyx, wondering how much info I could get from her. "He looks like a twenty-year-old Halloween prop."
Onyx snorted. He doesn't give the impression of earth-shattering power that he used to, I'll give you that, but he is the Boogeyman. She told me, sidling a few steps closer to me and keeping her golden eyes trained on mine.
I rolled my eyes. "Right. Earth-shattering power. Let me guess, he guards the closets of the world? Keeps the other monsters in check?"
She snorted again, accompanied by a whinny of laughter. You are a funny child, she told me, leaning her head forward and rubbing her cold nose against my arm in what I assumed was the horse equivalent of ruffling my hair. I have not been so amused since Pitch's last era-wardrobe change.
I shivered a little as her cold nose touched my flesh. "Glad I could amuse you." I murmured, half wishing she would go away and leave me to think. There was so much new information buzzing around in my head that I could barely see straight. Evidently I was being held prisoner in the Boogeyman's lair, guarded by a Nightmare horse, because he thought I was some new addition to the spirit realm. Weird. But not entirely unbelievable. I had known form my first night at Cupcake's house that there was something…off about me. That I wasn't like normal teens. But I had never expected something like this!
She smiled again and I grimaced. Thank you. She inclined her head. But enough about him and me. Let's talk about you, hmm?
I was instantly on guard. "What about me?" I asked evenly, shifting my chains as I held her fiery gaze.
Onyx tossed her head majestically. Well, for starters, I should like to know your name. Pitch has just been calling you 'the girl', and I think that's a bit rude. So what is it? Mary? Karen? Violet? You look like a violet.
I lifted my hand to a strand of long violet hair which was trailing down my shoulder and rubbed it self-consciously. It was dirty. Come to think of it, so was the rest of me. Bloody hell do I need a shower. "And what's wrong with violet?" I demanded, glaring at her.
The horse shook her head from side to side, setting her shimmering mane a-waving again. Nothing, nothing at all child. But is that your name? Violet?
I shook my head, my internal defense mechanism springing to life and wrapping around me like a suit of armor. "No." I told her coldly. "And if you're just going to make fun of me I guess I won't bother telling you my name."
I instantly saw her manner change as her eyes grew wide and her stance tensed. I am sorry, child. She told me, lifting her head apologetically and trying to push against my hand with her muzzle. I did not mean to insult you.
I yanked my hand away, fear suddenly filling me. "Just leave me alone!" I cried, turning my head away. "You're only here to find out who I am for him! Just- just go away!"
With my eyes closed, my world was as dark as the unlit room around me, but I could still hear her shrill whinny of surprise and hear her powerful hooves clashing against the ground. Her voice sounded, soft and worried inside my head. Child…
"No!" I clapped my hands over my ears, trying to drown her out. "No, just leave me alone!"
There was a few seconds' silence before I heard her voice again. It was almost a whisper, barely tickling the outer reaches of my thoughts. Very well. She told me and I heard her hooves clip-clopping away from me against the black rock ground. I will leave you for now. He will come to check in on you in a matter of hours.
I nodded. "Yeah yeah, just get out of here!"
Before she left she stopped right in the doorway, nudging it open with her nose. Then she turned back to look at me. I hope you know that no harm will come to you here. She told me seriously.
I couldn't help but snort.
She elected to ignore it. Both Pitch and I care about your safety. He let you know that by moving you onto this bed instead of leaving you on the cold floor. That should tell you enough about him.
I shook the chains again. "And these?" I demanded. "What does this say about him?"
She stared at me for a moment before replying evenly. I could feel her eyes upon me, watching my every move. It says he is a cautious man who does not wish to lose a gift. And then she left.
I flopped backwards onto the bed, my weight making the mattress beneath me bounce as I pondered her parting words.
"A cautious man who does not wish to lose a gift." I murmured, my eyes idly tracing patterns in the fire-lit rock above me as I tried to sort through all my new information. "What does that mean?" I didn't know. But I had a feeling I was soon going to find out.