Welcome back everyone!
WinterCrystal1009: Since you're waiting so anxiously for a solution, I sincerely hope you like the ending I have planned (even if it does take a while to get there). ;) This may sound dumb, but to me the story didn't pop right out as being a suspense fic because I've already sorted the plot out in my head so, to me, there is no suspense haha. I guess being the author does have it's downsides...it occasionally makes me a pretty bad judge of genres, so that's why I was waiting to see what you guys all thought.
PaperGirlInAPaperTown: Glad you liked it!
Momochan77: Yes, it does kinda suck that they can't talk but it was necessary. Jamie's not completely out of the story, though, so don't you worry. Him and Sophie still have important roles to play.
Please enjoy! :D
Jack stood on the rocky shore of a tiny Nova Scotia island, his head cocked slightly to one side. Having never been to Ikiaq before in his entire existence (it wasn't exactly a place spirits just strolled into for a casual visit), he'd possessed no real knowledge as to what the realm looked like. At the very least he'd expected something dark and intimidating, possibly built with huge stone or marble walls and pillars like human courthouses often were. What he was looking at was the complete opposite.
There was no two ways about it—Ikiaq, apparently, was a wholly unremarkable red spruce tree.
How anticlimactic.
He almost laughed at the ridiculousness of his own thought, but shoved the reaction down hastily. The others were all stiff and grim-faced, so bursting into a fit of giggles would probably not go over too well with them. Besides, although he couldn't see any right now Jack knew the tree's countless limbs were crawling with Issitoq's Watchful Eyes. The last thing he and his friends needed was for the ancient spirit to take insult at the Guardian of Fun's private joke.
Squaring his broad shoulders, North braved the inevitable and stepped towards the tree. The others hung back, watching in silence, as he laid his palm against the cold brown trunk. Jack felt the familiar pull of magic, similar to the pull of a snow globe when he was sucked into the portal, and knew that they were about to be teleported.
Guess this is just the front door, then, like the broken bedframe over Pitch's place.
Upon realizing that, apprehension built within his stomach, causing a peculiar burning in the back of his throat. In the blink of an eye, the five Guardians now stood inside a massive underground hall. Unlike Pitch's realm, with its gloom and shadows and broken piles of rock, this place was immaculate, not to mention lambent. Jack was rather surprised by how easy it was to see down there, especially considering there were no visible light sources. If he had to compare it to something, Jack thought it was sort of like gazing upon late evening or early morning skies, when the sun was hidden by the horizon but the world still basked in faint remnants of light.
Neither bright nor dark, neither hidden nor resplendent, neither beginning nor ending.
Perfectly neutral. That was Ikiaq.
Curling tree roots served both as impressive embellishment and structural support for the rich, dark earth ceiling. Earthen walls were packed smooth, interrupted only occasionally by decorative polished stones, each of which was intricately carved in a language that Jack didn't recognize. The place was eerily quiet, and presumably empty apart from the newly arrived spirits, yet Jack couldn't shake the feeling that they were being carefully watched.
A single path lay before them, and the Guardians followed it. It sloped gently downward, pulling them deeper and deeper under the earth. After a few minutes of tense quiet, the frost spirit discretely wiped his palms against his pants. They weren't in trouble, he kept reminding himself. Not yet, at least. Sandy just wanted to confirm or refute his suspicions about the kid's magic, that's all.
So why do I feel like this is a very, very bad idea?
Desperate to lighten the mood, he reached forward and gently plucked at the blue-gray fur between Bunnymund's shoulders. The Pooka, as expected, jumped about a foot in the air before pinning the frost spirit with a glare that could've melted stone.
"Sorry," Jack said with a grin. "You looked so stiff I just couldn't help myself."
He was not the least bit apologetic, and Bunny knew it. The Guardian of Hope lifted one paw and pointed a furry finger at him.
"Watch yourself," he warned. From the huff in his voice, it was clear he was struggling to keep hold of both the volume and his temper.
"Won't have to," Jack noted grimly, ice-blue eyes fixed upon something just over Bunny's shoulder. That prickly feeling of being watched he'd been getting? Turned out those decorative rocks he'd been curiously eyeing weren't rocks at all. They were the lids of enormous violet eyes that slid open as the Guardians approached, stared unblinkingly at them as they passed, and dropped soundlessly shut again once they were out of sight.
It was horribly creepy, having so many faceless, emotionless orbs watching them. Jack had to suppress a shudder, and he wasn't the only one.
As they walked, Bunny muttered, "I've never liked this place." He flinched when yet another eye opened up right next to him.
"Stick close, they might bite," Jack advised playfully.
"Shut up."
"Hush you two," Tooth shushed. Both spirits wisely obeyed and shut their mouths. Now wasn't the time for playful banter, even if it had succeeded in making Jack feel a little better.
With North and Sandy leading the way, the Guardians eventually found themselves standing before a massive root, one that was easily four or five times the size of a yeti. Jack assumed it was meant to serve as some sort of door and received confirmation of such when North lifted a hand to touch it, much as he had done to the tree outside. Before the big man could make contact, however, there was a sudden crack of old wood that made all five of them flinch. A puff of dust and dirt gathered around their feet as a long, low groan resounded and the ancient tree root moved aside, allowing the Guardians passage into whatever hell awaited them. Seeing the stark blackness that lay beyond the entrance, Jack swallowed thickly. This had to be where Issitoq resided, where he held his trials and pronounced his judgments. His nerves returned in force, but he dutifully trailed after the others as they filed inside.
The heart of Ikiaq positively throbbed with power. Jack could neither see nor hear Issitoq at the moment, yet he could feel his presence, the ancient spirit's immense aura filling every particle of earth and space until the very air seemed thick and heavy. The only available light was the little patch that streamed in through the open doorway, and that wasn't a whole lot to start with. But even so, Jack could tell Issitoq's judgment hall was absolutely enormous. That one space could have easily swallowed Pitch's room full of black cages two or three times over. North and the others stopped, so Jack did too, right on the very edge of a precipice that dropped steeply into bottomless darkness. His stomach tightened into a hard knot. Even though he could fly and, thus, heights didn't really bother him, Jack found it incredibly unnerving to be standing so close to that void. He was fairly certain that was the place to which Issitoq banished the most vile and corrupt of spirits; he couldn't even begin to comprehend what sort of wretched fate awaited the condemned down there in the depths, and he didn't want to try.
Standing out in the open as they were, the Guardians felt exposed, condemned, dirty, like they had just been brought before the judge's bench and were about to stand trial. None of them spoke—they didn't dare until Issitoq addressed them first—and it took Jack a moment to realize North and the others were all staring up towards the ceiling. He, too, raised his head to look, and as his eyes grew accustomed to the darkness he finally noticed they were not alone.
Far above their heads, the earthen ceiling positively swarmed with spirits. Thousands upon thousands of Eyes blinked open and shut, swiveled this way and that as they observed the room, fluttered clumsily through the air on tiny bat wings, crawled like insects all over the ceiling and various roots that intersected it. It was absolutely sickening to watch, and yet Jack found himself wholly incapable of tearing his eyes away.
It was the most horribly fascinating thing he had ever seen.
Hanging down from the ceiling towards the center of the room, like some sort of grotesque chandelier, was a tangled web of spruce tree roots. Not a single Eye dared approach or touch it, and Jack grew curious as to why. Interrupting his musings, a familiar rumbling filled the Guardians' ears, and the mass began to shift. Eyes scattered like startled roaches as the gnarled roots slowly unfurled like a disgusting, colorless flower. With the groan of an ancient tree toppling over in the distant woods, a voice resounded from the blackness.
"You have come to me, Guardians of Childhood, without summons. I trust you have good reason."
Tiny yet immeasurably brave, Sandy took a step forward. His golden feet brushed the lip of the precipice as he formally addressed the ancient spirit with his yellow sand symbols. When he was finished, the voice spoke again.
"Yes." The word was uttered slowly, the S at the end drawn out like a snake's hiss. "The human Cassandra Fisher. I suspected this would be about her."
Sandy began to say something else, but Issitoq cut him off.
"You have come seeking answers. Hmmm. A very poor start, I must say."
"Poor start for what?" Bunny muttered under his breath. He grunted when North elbowed him sharply. It was considered incredibly discourteous to speak out of turn in this place, even if one was talking to himself.
Completely ignoring Bunnymund's remark, Issitoq said, "You have already found the answer, Guardian of Dreams, yet it seems you do not believe it."
Sandy's pudgy face pulled into an expression of alarm, and his next symbols appeared too quickly for any of his friends to understand.
Issitoq and his countless Eyes, however, saw and understood clearly.
"Mutatis Mutandis," the Adjudicating Eye murmured. "'With the necessary changes having been made…'"
Upon hearing those words, Sandy drew back sharply, eyes wide and hands pressed against his chest as if to protect his heart. The other Guardians cried out in unison, but Bunny was by far the loudest.
"No!" he shouted, the faintest edge of panic in his voice. "No you can't do that!"
"It has already been done," Issitoq replied, his ancient, impassive voice sounding almost bored as he uttered those devastating words.
"YOU CAN'T DO THAT!" Bunny's heavy accent echoed deafeningly against the cavernous walls. In the wake of such horrifying news, all thought of proper conduct and respect had flown right out the window. Emerald eyes swam with unshed tears, but the Pooka stubbornly blinked them back. "You can't do that to us!" he insisted. "It ain't fair!"
"We haven't done anything wrong!" Tooth Fairy wailed. Unlike Bunnymund, she had no qualms about crying openly in front of Issitoq.
"No spirit is perfect," the Adjudicating Eye chided her. One thin, gnarled root descended from the ceiling to point right into Tooth's face. "You yourself uttered thus this very night so do not pretend you do not understand."
Harshly reminded of her all-too-recent conversation with Jack, Tooth flinched under Issitoq's rebuke. Her wings appeared to lose all their strength and she dropped to her knees on the dry dirt, arms hugged tight around her own body. She broke into helpless sobs, her three little attendant fairies likewise weeping as they perched on her shoulder and clutched each other.
Not one to give up so easily, Bunny continued to argue. "Even if we ain't perfect, you can't throw us down like a bunch of animals! You're putting us on the same level as Pitch for Moon's sake!"
For the Pooka, of all spirits, to talk about being compared to animals would've been absolutely hilarious had Jack not been struggling through a fierce internal battle. Quite frankly, he didn't know if he wanted to break into tears like Tooth, shout in defiance like Bunny, or fly away like a cowardly sprite and hide some place where he could hopefully forget about this living nightmare.
The tendril of root pulled sharply away from the Guardians. Issitoq's disgust with Bunnymund's defiance was more than apparent, even before he spoke.
"I do what I must, foolish spirit!" His harsh tone made even the fierce Pooka cringe. "A great tragedy has befallen this world, and I will stand for it no longer! Mutatis Mutandis. It is the only way to set things right again!"
"But it just ain't fair!" Bunny cried almost petulantly. "That means the only one safe is North!"
The Russian looked absolutely devastated. His mouth opened and closed several times as he struggled to come up with something supportive to say, but nothing that came to mind seemed even remotely adequate. His typically jolly red face was awash with anguish for his friends, blue eyes filled to the brim with unshed tears.
"Your hearts have been judged," Issitoq coolly replied. "That you have been found unworthy is not of my own doing. Pitch Black knows this and has accepted it. For you to contest this when he has not, quite frankly, sickens me."
"The only reason he's not contesting anything is 'cause he knows Fisher isn't gonna pick him!" Jack yelled. He felt horribly sick to his stomach, and his hands clutched so tightly to his staff he feared he'd snap it in two, yet he just couldn't bring himself to let go. Forget losing believers, forget being invisible or disappearing forever…this was by far the worst thing that could ever possibly happen to a spirit.
Oh, Moon, what are we gonna do?!
"Even if you say we deserve it, this ain't how it's supposed to be!" Bunny argued. "Pitch has known her for weeks! He's had the chance to poison her mind against us and has even bonded with her! He has an unfair advantage!"
"All has been done in proper accordance!" Issitoq sounded truly furious that the Pooka would dare accuse him, the very spirit of justice and law, of being unfair. The knot of roots above their heads twisted and writhed like a tangled ball of incensed snakes. "Neither the Guardians nor the Nightmare King had unfair advantage—no one knew the rite was to be invoked therefore all participants had equal opportunity to happen upon the child. If anything," he continued, his voice dropping into a deep baritone that echoed around the room like an earthquake's rumble, "Pitch Black was the one disadvantaged. He is but one spirit—you Guardians are five, and you bask freely in Moon's guiding light. Despite my every effort to maintain perfect balance in this matter, the odds were clearly to your favor. That the banished Nightmare King discovered the human first is naught but a coincidence. As for his actions subsequent to meeting her…disheartening though they may be, he has not committed any crimes."
Completely out of logical arguments, Bunny too sank to the ground. He hunkered there beside Tooth Fairy and shook uncontrollably, arms wrapped tightly around his body as he struggled not to hyperventilate. The truth was really hitting him now, and it was hitting him hard. There was no escaping this, no talking their way out or begging for reprieve. With Mutatis Mutandis, there were no second chances. Once those wretched doors were opened, there was absolutely no stopping the unforgiving wheels of fate until the matter was completely settled, for better or for worse.
"Please…" North—big, loud-mouthed, fearless North—stepped forward and planted himself firmly between Issitoq and his fellow Guardians, as if his presence alone would be enough to protect them from the horrid fate they all faced. He held out his large hands as he implored in a voice choked with tears, "Please… There must be way to stop this. If we have been wrong, maybe there's some other way we can prove our worth to you…"
"This is not a matter of proving worthiness or unworthiness." The anger had finally faded from Issitoq's voice, leaving the spirit with his customary impassive tone. "If it were so simple, I could have easily dispensed judgment on my own." One of the larger roots swayed, rising and falling like crests of a wave; it seemed to Jack as if the ancient spirit was trying to soothe some of the sting carried by his earlier words. "Understand, Guardians, that I find no pleasure in invoking this rite and that I have not done so lightly. This matter is inconceivably complicated—Mutatis Mutandis is the only viable means for me to see justice done."
Jack couldn't understand that at all. Mutatis Mutandis was so final, so overwhelmingly devastating…how could it possibly solve anything, let alone a problem so complex that even the great Adjudicating Eye, with all his knowledge and power, had to stoop to such a remedy? For Moon's sake, that was like trying to repair a cracked china dish with a sledgehammer! Surely there were better solutions!
North's thoughts seemed to be following along the same line as Jack's. "Tell us what problem is," he offered. "Perhaps we can—"
"NO!"
The word echoed around them like a boom of thunder. Jack clapped his hands over his ears, nearly dropping his staff in the process, and turned his face away as a shower of dust and pebbles rained down upon the Guardians' heads and shoulders. Those roots were writhing again, exuding a peculiar combination of frustration and wrath.
"No," Issitoq repeated, quieter this time but just as firmly. "You know the rules, and the rules must be strictly followed. To explain my intentions would ruin everything!"
Cowed by the ancient spirit's anger, North muttered, "Apologies. I forgot."
The roots stretched out towards them, as if Issitoq were about to say something else, but then pulled away again. They wove themselves back into that tangled, disgusting ball that hung from the ceiling.
"You know the path you now walk, Guardians of Childhood." The words were calm and collected as they echoed lightly throughout the vast chamber. "Take care that this tribulation does not destroy you."
With that said, the last tendril of root grew still, the rumbling stopped, and all of Ikiaq fell silent. Highly distressed, but clearly dismissed, the Guardians took their leave.
Jack shifted slightly, staring fixedly as his feet. He wanted desperately to say something, some stupid joke or ridiculously lame comment to break the unbearably awkward silence, but his mind was drawing a complete blank. Besides, even if something had come to him, he wouldn't have been able to say it aloud. His throat felt constricted, as if someone had hold of it and was pressing relentlessly against his trachea; trying to be funny in a moment like this would be like a slap right in the face, not only to his friends but to Jack himself.
The Guardians had left Ikiaq in silence, taken a snow globe back to the Pole, and now stood huddled beneath the enormous spinning globe. Nearly an hour passed without a single word uttered between them, each spirit lost within their own disheartening thoughts. For his part, only one thing kept circulating through Jack's mind, over and over like some sick, depleted mantra:
Why…?
Why?
Why?!
If only he could understand, maybe things wouldn't be so bad. But he didn't understand, and none of his friends could, either. That was, perhaps, one of the worst things about Mutatis Mutandis—knowing what was going to happen but not knowing why it was happening until it was all over.
Not knowing made the inevitable end so much harder to bear.
Right now, the only thing that made any sense to Jack was Pitch Black's recent conduct. Even the frost spirit, who was usually the last to get these sorts of things, could clearly see that the Boogeyman had played them all spectacularly. They'd been so worked up over his forced bond with Cassandra Fisher and so consumed with worry over his ability to file grievances, not one of them had realized that the truth of the matter was actually quite simple:
Pitch hadn't manipulated the kid so as to take advantage of her magic; he'd done it to level the field. A successful invocation of Mutatis Mutandis was hinged on a single essential rule: no participating spirit could have significant advantage over the others. Issitoq had commented that, in spite of his best efforts, there remained a natural imbalance between the two sides and that Pitch Black was on the losing side of that inequity. Loath as he was to admit it, Jack knew the Adjudicating Eye was right. Because they were all from the same group, the Guardians had the benefit of numbers, and their alliance with Moon granted them the ability to move freely about the world, quite unlike the ever-hunted and hated Pitch Black. Furthermore, their natural affinity to love and be loved by kids meant they were far more likely to win the kid's favor than the sinister and egotistical Nightmare King.
But she hates us. Except for Sandy, she genuinely hates us.
Thinking about it now, Jack was sickened by the realization that the Guardians had foolishly and ignorantly squandered an early lead. To make matters even worse, it was now very apparent that Pitch hadn't been lying about Jamie. He hadn't needed to do anything to the man—Issitoq had acted entirely on his own to preserve the impartiality of the impending decision. In trying to protect Cassandra Fisher by getting her away from Pitch, they'd not only pushed her further away from them and closer to him, they'd unintentionally sucked poor Jamie Bennett down into the twisted labyrinth with them.
And until this is over, we can't explain to him why or even tell him we're sorry…
While the Nightmare King's safety was pretty much assured from the beginning thanks to Fisher's obvious contempt for the Guardians, Pitch wasn't the sort to settle for anything less than a guarantee. If a situation wasn't wholly to his favor, he would make it so, just as he had used petty tricks and underhanded tactics to gain the upper hand during his last attack. In that sense, tricking Fisher into accepting the cloak was little more than an insurance policy. With the threat of grievances now hanging over their heads, the Boogeyman could rest assured that his enemies no longer had the advantage.
As Bunny had so aptly put it many, many nights ago, Pitch had essentially cut off their hands, which at this point was absolutely crippling.
Tooth's soft, dejected voice eventually broke through the haze in Jack's ears, drawing him back into the wretched world of the present.
"We need to talk about this." The whispered words were barely audible, even in the silence.
"About what?" Jack mumbled miserably. "There's nothing to talk about. It's not up to us anymore."
"We can't give up, mate," Bunnymund quietly informed him, but he didn't look (or sound) convinced of his own statement. In fact, he appeared just as dejected and hopeless as Jack felt. "There's gotta be a way. We've always managed before. Like with that mess with Pitch, you pulled us outta that all right with only one believer left."
Jack shrugged away the words as if they didn't matter, but said nothing because, deep down, he knew the Pooka had a point.
With his symbols, Sandy told them, Let's look at this logically.
"Yes," North concurred in a low rumble. "Decide who is most vulnerable, and think how to protect them."
Jack cringed at the prospect, but obligingly pointed out, "Whoever's power presents most strongly is considered the likeliest choice."
"That would be Pitch," Bunnymund murmured. "But we all know she ain't gonna pick him."
"She clearly prefers the shadows over all her other gifts," Tooth reminded him.
"And he has not treated her too well," North added. "Tricking her into bond made her angry, no? She hates being used, that is very clear."
"Yeah, but even if she don't like him or what he did, she still prefers him to us." Bunny shifted restlessly, his large feet sliding across the polished floor as he struggled to stay calm. "We didn't exactly give her a warm welcome, did we?"
An uncomfortable silence fell over them for a time.
"Tooth's probably safe," Jack finally put in, waving weakly to indicate the fairy. "She hasn't felt the urge to collect teeth in a long time, right?"
Tooth nodded an affirmation. Her large eyes were very sad as she regarded the frost spirit. "Cassandra probably won't pick Sandy, either." When Sandman looked surprised to hear that, she explained in a low voice, "Even though you're one of us, she holds some respect for you and your magic and admires your dream-weaving." Her whole body seemed to wilt as realization dawned on her. "That means…"
With tears in her eyes, she turned her amethyst gaze upon Jack and Bunnymund. Unable to bear the pitying looks from his friends, Jack summoned the wind and sped off to find some dark, empty corner in which he could curl up alone.
Unbeknownst to him, Bunnymund fled the globe room moments afterward.
The three Guardians left Jack and Bunnymund alone for quite some time. It just didn't seem right to bother them, not when they were struggling to come to terms with what was inevitably going to happen to one of them. It wasn't fair, it wasn't right, but nobody seemed to know what to do about it, and that was surely a bitter, bitter pill to swallow. Giving them a bit of space only seemed appropriate, all things considered.
After a while, though, Tooth Fairy thrust aside her anxiety and went looking for them. It was one thing to offer adequate time to think and process, but she certainly wasn't about to let either Jack or Bunny get it into their head that they were in this alone. Someone had to talk to them, comfort them, and make it clear that the rest of the group would support them in any way they could. North and Sandy each were wise in their own way, but neither of them was quite right for this sort of thing, and they knew it. The Russian was bold and loud, oftentimes tactless without meaning to be, whereas Sandy had the opposite problem. His quiet, reserved nature and reliance on symbols for communication could lead to misunderstandings, and that was the very last thing Jack or Bunny needed right now.
So, by simple process of elimination, that left Toothiana. Of course, her hyperactivity could be overwhelming at times, but she could certainly tone it down when she needed to. This wasn't the first time she'd calmly and rationally approached a problem within the group; hadn't she offered advice to Jack just last night?
She cringed, unfortunately reminded of how Issitoq had thrown that conversation right back into her face. Tooth had no idea how the spirit of justice and law could've known what she'd said, but when it came down to it, it didn't really matter. Right now she had to focus on Jack and Bunny, on offering the support they desperately needed, otherwise the two incredibly sensitive spirits would slide down into the horrible, endless depths of despair.
By pure coincidence, she found Bunnymund first. He was sequestered in one of the spare sleeping quarters, clutching at his ears as he crouched in the corner, quivering from head to toe. As she pushed the door open just enough to slip inside, Tooth thought she heard deep, ragged breaths, as if the Pooka was struggling not to cry.
"Hey, Bunny," she murmured, flitting across the room. She landed lightly at his side and reached out a hand to lay it comfortingly on his shoulder.
The Pooka drew a shaking breath. "How can he do this?" His voice was barely a whisper, cracked and broken. "How can he do this? What could have possibly happened for this to be necessary?"
Not since Easter had been lost and a child walked through him had Tooth seen the Guardian of Hope look so despondent. She wanted to cry for him but knew her tears would do him no good, so she blinked her eyes to keep them at bay.
"I don't know," she replied quietly. She ran her fingers gently through the fur of his shoulder in an effort to soothe him. "I wish I did. We all do. Oh, Bunny, you know none of us want this for you or for Jack."
He glanced at her. The fur of his face was dry, so he hadn't been crying, but his emerald eyes looked…lost. So very lost. "You know what's going to happen," he whispered. "You know who it's gonna be."
She sensed where he was going with this, and tensed. "No, Bunny, no."
"It only makes sense, don't it?" His voice grew hard, and he uttered a short, bitter, incredibly self-deprecating laugh. Tooth cringed to hear it. "Can you imagine that kid trying to be fun? Nah." He shook his head. "A background like hers only makes sense. Who better to give kids hope than someone who knows what hopelessness and loneliness feels like?"
"Don't say that."
"You know it's true! Me and Jack, we ain't even on the same level. Look at everything he's done, take a real good look, then compare that to me." He shook his head again, harder this time. "Between the two of us, it's obvious who deserves to get picked. The decision's practically been made already!"
Tooth retracted her hand sharply. "Don't say that!" she scolded. The passionate anger in her voice left the Pooka staring. "Don't you dare give up, E. Aster Bunnymund! Just because you two are the most likely choices doesn't mean your fate is inevitable! There's always the chance it could be me or Sandy, maybe even Pitch! Until Cassandra decides nothing is certain, so don't you dare crawl into a hole and surrender! That is not what a Guardian does, that's not what the Guardian of Hope does, and I sure hope that's not what a Pooka does at the first sign of trouble!"
Bunny's fur stood on end, emerald eyes flashed. "Of course it ain't!" He hated it when spirits made fun of him for being a Pooka, almost as much as he hated being compared to a kangaroo.
"Then stop feeling sorry for yourself. Cowering in a corner does nothing for you or for Jack."
The Pooka straightened a little at the mention of the frost spirit. "I gotta find him." He needed to talk to Jack, right now, before the sensitive frost spirit got it into his head that—
As he turned towards the door, Bunny spotted something deeply foreboding: a patch of frost, fresh and slick, stretching across the room from the door, which was still partly open from when Tooth had come in.
"Jack?"
Bunny bounded out into the corridor, but there was no Jack in sight. Spread all over the floor and across the heavy wooden door was a thick layer of ice.
Oh no.
"Jack!"
He leapt down the hall, yelling desperately for his friend. Jack had clearly come looking for him, probably to discuss what was happening in the hope of gaining some semblance of comfort, and had overheard him and Tooth talking. For him to take off so suddenly, for him to get so upset that his frost spread uninhibited, he must've overheard only a part of what Bunnymund had said, and…
"'Me and Jack, we ain't even on the same level. Look at everything he's done, take a real good look, then compare that to me. Between the two of us, it's obvious who deserves to get picked.'"
…and horribly misunderstood.
"Jack!"
He was nowhere inside the workshop. Yetis eyed him curiously as he streaked through the corridors, throwing open doors without care for the noise he made or possible holes he left in ancient walls. He had to find him. He had to find him quickly and explain.
"Jack!"
Outside the workshop, a snowstorm was brewing. It was springtime in the northern hemisphere—the pole was usually calm and sunny this time of year. For a storm to be gathering now there was only one possible cause.
Without a care for the bitter cold and icy wind, Bunny threw open a window and leapt out into the snow. His desperate calls were lost to the squall, the young spirit's name blown right back into his face no matter how many times he shouted it.
