Better start running, Pitch.
Pitch felt something very rare for him; the hair on the back of his neck stood straight up in fear, foreboding overwhelming his thoughts. He narrowed his eyes and stretched his shoulders, trying to release some of the tension in them, he gritted his teeth together and clutched his cloak closer to him, a chill coming on the wind as tiny, thin ice sheets with ethereal designs formed slowly on some of the windows and over the puddle barely two feet from Pitch. His thin lips tugged down into a frown. Pitch stomped down on the ice fiercely, shattering it. Satisfied, he turned and hurried away, trying to convince himself that he was not fleeing. Frost and the two Archers were trapped in the middle world, and the third archer couldn't stop him anyway. Pitch huffed and continued to flee down the half-frozen London alley.
(Back to normal POV)
I struggle to catch my breath after my rough landing on the cobbled streets of London. I look at my arm, my hand not visible; still in the portal. I feel Jack's hand slipping out of mine and I grit my teeth, then, I let go momentarily, lunge forward and grab it again, this time at his wrist and pull him out, and he pulls out Trick who was attached to his other arm. All three of us collapse on the ground, nervous laughter escaping each of our mouths. I start to speak but Jack's glaring at me so hard I can almost feel my insides begin to freeze.
"Don't ever let go again. EVER." He says venomously.
I roll my eyes and reply, "Oh, please, I had to or you would have fallen."
"I did fall!" He retorts, pulling his staff off his back and untying the rope used to secure it. Trick huffs at the staff, muttering about it smacking her in the face one too many times.
"Only like a foot and then I caught you!" I countered, trying to defend myself. Trick just smirks at us, I glare daggers at her. Trick elbows Jack in the ribs and laughs.
"Hey, I fell too, when she let go; she just does stuff like that. You get used to it." Trick grins, whirls around and calls over her shoulder, "C'mon! West ought to be around here somewhere!"
I laugh, and follow her; it'll be good to see West again; it's been a while since the three of us met up. Dark portals and nightmares have had a increase lately so me, Trick and West haven't seen each other in a long time. When you've only got two (well, now three) you tend to notice when they aren't there.
Jack's eyebrow jumps up, but he walks with us anyway, we catch up to Trick and continue walking on in silence.
I freeze in my tracks and close my eyes, silently analyzing details I've taken in over the past few minutes; the sounds, any wet footprints from stepping in a puddle, the scrapes left on walls by weapons or nightmares, that strange, metallic taste to the air after a portal has been closed. All there. My eyes snap back open. Jack opens his mouth but Trick shakes her head, as if to tell him to keep his mouth shut. I barely notice that; I'm on the Hunt after all. My mind registers that Jack hasn't seen a Hunt before but it's insignificant so I continue. I run through the questions; What am I Hunting? Friend or Foe? Likely to be surprised-use to advantage or make sure I'm obvious as not to provoke? Are they in danger or a danger to me? West, friend, no provocation, possibly in danger based on evidence of fighting. My legs bend, tense and I spring upwards, latching onto a sturdy sign and swing my body weight on to a ledge, and I continue to climb up the side of the building, only faintly aware of Jack's jaw touching the ground, or Trick's amused look at seeing Jack's face. I reach the top with little trouble; a light sweat on my brow but nothing more than that. To say that I'm "Alert" would be a severe understatement and a disadvantage to anyone who thought that is all I was. One of my favorite qualities of my fighting style is the fact that I am almost always severely underestimated by a new opponent; despite the rumors, tales and warnings I always look a bit underwhelming. It gives the villains something to reflect on when they scramble back home with their tails between their legs; 'I got beat up by someone like that?'. I smirk to myself and remember blurry faces of dismay and disgust.
However, a soft thump interrupts my reminiscing. I immediately tense, thinking the worst. Then, the familiar sound of metal-on-metal; of chains. I try to relax; pushing down the suspicion, allowing myself to smirk. The night silence is deafening. Too quiet; big mistake. I whirl around and catch him by the neck, and hold him in a head lock ruffling his shaggy hair. He pushes me away, but grins.
"I thought I had you there, Sis." My-not-really-little-brother-but-basically-brother says, grinning. West is a year older than Trick and I, but he's still more little-brother-y than older-brother-y. West joined the Archers a little over twenty years ago, and his favorite weapon are the spiky chains that dangle from his jeans; they're super sharp and make wounds worse than a serrated knife. He'll throw them in a curve or arch so they wrap around whatever they connect with; getting caught by the ankles or wrists hurt like crazy! (I've got 'tattoos' on my right ankle from my first meeting with West.)
"Never!" I say, mocking haughtiness, "C'mon, Trick and a new friend are a few stories down."
"New friend?" West asks, surprised but pleased.
I shrug, "Jack Frost. He saw a nightmare while I was fighting it and saw me as a result."
West nods, "Well, that's good at least. Why's he with you and Trick though; I would 'ave figured Guardians don't take missions like us three do." He said, referring to me, Trick and himself.
We effortlessly climb down the eleven-story building and find Trick and Jack just where I left them.
jack is introduced. Trick smirks and hugs him, "Ha! What'cha been up to, West?"
He face darkens, "Spying on Pitch; I've got some bad news for the lot of us."