Chapter Seven

A few months later...

The Reaper sighed pulling the soul forward. It glowed brightly and swirled around him before disappearing. He was in southern Ontario to collect a lost soul. He decided to stick around, but flew up closer to Hudson's Bay.

Matthew settled on the forest floor, just listening to the birds and wind. A small smile spread across his face and he closed his eyes, it was so peaceful. He heard something moving close to him and looked over to see a black bear with two cubs. The momma bear looked at him suspiciously while her two cubs trotted over. One crawled right into his lap and curled up while the other sniffed his hand.

"Hello little ones." The Canadian said quietly. The other cub crawled into his lap upsetting their sibling, but they both settled. Momma bear was approaching him now. She sniffed his hair before licking his cheek. He loved animals and most animals loved him. He was a little bias towards bears, especially polar bears.

Matthew laughed letting the big bear sniff his hand before scratching her behind the ear. The bear grumbled happily and curled up beside him. He yawned closing his eyes, he could smell rain not to far off and decided to have a nap. The bears seemed content to sleep as well.

The Reaper woke up a few hours later when the bears started to stir. The momma bear had already started to walk and called back to her cubs. The pair slowly stretched and fell out of his lap. The blond laughed quietly watching them go. He stood up and stretched yawning as his back cracked.

"Getting old Reaper?" A voice behind him snickered. Matthew immediately turned eyes glowing, wings open slightly ready for a fight. A growl escaped from his throat as he spotted Pitch among the trees. "Now, now." He sneered stepping forwards scythe in hand. "You're more of a bird than a bear."

"What do you want?" The Reaper demanded.

"I want to hear you sing." The King of Nightmares joked. Matthew narrowed his eyes and watched him closely. He knew this could be a good opportunity to get the souls Pitch had stole back. "I want more souls, more fearlings!"

"That's nice." Matthew growled stepping forward pulling his hood and bandanna down. Pitch laughed readying his scythe nightmares at his side. He waved his hands and the nightmares rushed forwards. The Reaper rolled up his sleeves and made a force field in front of him glancing to the forest floor. He spotted a large stick and it glowed purple as it flew into his hand.

"A little unconventional for you." Pitch commented as Matthew spun the stick staff hitting a few nightmares and dissolving them. He jumped forward attacking the remaining horses. They easily crumbled as soon as they were hit. The Canadian jumped at Pitch swinging his staff. The man blocked the hit and Matthew pushed against him. "A stick is more of Frost's thing."

"Hockey stick or regular stick. Doesn't matter." The blond said pushing Pitch back. The spirit of darkness quickly regained his balance and took a swipe at him with his scythe. Matthew threw up a force field stopping the blade and jabbing at Pitch with his staff. He moved out of the way and pulled his scythe back readying for another strike. He brought a few more nightmares forward and they surrounded the Canadian.

The nightmares stomped and nipped at him. Matthew spun with his wings extended knocking them back and whacking them with his stick. He didn't notice one that had got to close again. It nipped at his arm breaking the skin. The Reaper immediately twisted away and smashed it off him. He heard Pitch laugh to his left and threw up another shield. He heard his weapon hit and turned to face the sound. The Nightmare King readied for another strike.

Pitch brought his scythe down hard as Matthew raised his staff. There was so much force that the stick snapped in half and threw the Reaper back. He rolled back onto his feet to see the spirit of darkness wrestling his scythe from the dirt. He wasn't able to get it out and dissolved it changing his scythe into a sword.

"Return the souls you stole." Matthew demanded stepping forwards and throwing one half of the stick to the side. Pitch just smirked taking a swing at him with his sword. He hopped back out of the way using a small force field just in case. He heard more nightmares to his back and made another shield to protect his back while he kept his focus on Pitch.

Matthew attacked the Nightmare King, picking up rocks and sticks from the forest floor and throwing them at him with his magic. He jumped at him and hit pitch over the head with his staff. He staggered back holding his head.

Having the force field behind him was taking to much energy. The Reaper turned to the nightmares and quickly hit and dissolved them. Pitch had recovered and lunged at him stabbing with his sword. He stepped to the side, but the spirit of darkness still managed to land a hit. He left a small cut just above his hip.

Matthew hissed stepping back as Pitch grabbed his wrist. He twisted making him drop the stick. He kicked the stick away with a smile. The Canadian kneed him in the chest and ripped his hand away. The King of Nightmares laughed and attacked again. He put up force field after force field to stop the attacks. Using so much magic was tiring him out.

The Reaper was out of breath, but Pitch kept attacking. He suddenly realized that he was intentionally drawing out the fight. He threw up another force field barely stopping a slash from the man. It cracked, but didn't shatter. Matthew growled pushing the cracked shield back forcing Pitch back as well.

"Is the little birdie getting tired?" The King of Nightmares taunted waving his sword. The Reaper's eyes dulled under his hood. He knew he needed to leave; he knew he'd most likely have to sing to get away. Pitch wouldn't let him just fly off, no matter how much he hated using it.

"Upon one summers morning..." Matthew started. He saw the man smirk before a flash of nightmare sand was thrown at him. The sand slipped past his lips and down his throat. He coughed trying to get it out of him, but only made it go further into his throat and lungs. It felt like millions of tiny little razor sharp knives cutting him and he could barely breathe.

The Reaper fell to his knees holding his throat. He had forgot his surroundings completely focusing on the blinding pain. He coughed and wheezed spitting the blood and sand out. Suddenly he was on his back looking hazily up at the canopy. He didn't understand how he got there.

"I should have done this long ago when I had the chance." Someone was saying. Matthew knew the voice, but didn't really care. He only wanted the blinding pain to stop. It was some of the worst pain he'd ever felt, it felt like he was burning from the inside outwards. "I would love to leave you to suffer, but I won't make the same mistake again."