Disclaimer: RotG is not my property, it's all Dreamworks and the author guy who wrote the series.
You didn't go over to your relative's place the next day after pulling off the greatest sick act in history. 'Don't want to get everyone else sick', you stated, and with that, your family left you home alone while they partied with your cousins, aunts and uncles.
Today is December 24, you realized with a pang of sorrow. Then, scribbling down a quick note to your parents, you refilled your mug with more tea, got your coat on and slipped out the door.
It wasn't very cold outside, for winter temperatures anyway. There was barely any wind and it was sunny outside.
After a quick stop at the local flower shop to buy some disgustingly expensive flowers, you made your way to the woods, sipping your tea as you went.
then you saw a group of kids milling around the woods, peering anxiously into the trees. "Nate!" Some yelled, trying to see around the trees.
You approached one of the kids. "What happened?"
"Nate went into the woods. . ." A girl said as another one of the kids yelled Nate's name again.
"I'll go in and find him." You said. "You guys stay out though ok? I know you aren't even supposed to play this close to the woods." The kids nodded, and watched as you went through the trees calling Nate's name.
"Nate?" You called. "Na-a-a-te?" The woods weren't very dark or thick, so it was surprising that there was no sign of him. He seemed to have kept walking deeper in the woods, since you were following his tracks.
Then you heard the voices.
"Who the hell are you?" You could tell that it was a kid who said it, but something suddenly stopped you from yelling Nate's name again. The voices grew a bit muffled, and there was something of a cry before it was cut off. You paled.
"N-Nate?" You called out weakly. Then you heard another voice.
"Was it necessary? Killing the boy, I mean."
Your blood grew cold. You could recognize that voice anywhere, anytime. It was Jack. You were sure of it, and stumbled into a horrifying scene. Jack was standing over a bundle of clothes covered in frost, and in front of him was. . .
Pitch.
Without thinking, you cried out:
"Jack!?"
