bluefrosty27: We had the day off yesterday. :p Updates will probably be slower now. I'm glad you're enjoying the story!

Now, for what happened last night...

CHAPTER FOUR: What Pitch Saw

Levi and Eren had gotten such a poor sleep the night before that it didn't take them long to zonk out that night. Once they were asleep, I was off. Don't ask how I travel between worlds... I'm not entirely sure myself. I'm told that when other alters want to do it, they have to call in Leo, who is a sort of guardian angel from something called Charmed. But I can just fly between. Think of it as going second star to the right and straight on 'til morning if you like.

Fortunately it doesn't take that long, though. It was around midnight, I think, when I got back to Pitch's room. I had to dispel a little band of nightmares that were prancing around on the bed above him, but there he was.

"Did you stay under here all day?" I asked, crawling halfway under the bed on my elbows.

Pitch nodded. His hair was a mess, and not the controlled chaos that his adult self always sported. A genuine kid-style messy.

"Did you get any sleep?"

"Some," he said. "But..."

"You had nightmares?"

"Every time."

I gave him a sympathetic look but decided not to ask what he dreamed about. The less he thought about it, the sooner he would forget it. "I guess you didn't look at your memories?" I asked.

"No."

"Do you want to now?"

He rolled onto his side and picked up the tooth case. He rubbed a polished gold edge with his thumb. "Maybe," he said.

"Come out from under here," I coaxed. "This is too cramped."

"Are you claustrophobic?" he asked, sounding hopeful.

"Not really... just uncomfortable." I backed out and held up the curtain of bedclothes. "Come on."

He crawled out a moment later, dragging his things with him. He put on the little jacket the fairies had made, and I have to admit he did look a little silly in its bright yellow, orange and pink. But I had more serious things on my mind. He pulled his blanket up over it anyway, so it was easy to refocus on the matter at hand.

"You'll stay?" he asked. He seemed like such a normal little kid just then, I don't think anyone could have said no to him.

"Of course, I will," I said. I sat back against the bed and put my arm around him. "You go ahead, and you don't have to tell me anything you see if you don't want to."

He actually leaned his head on my shoulder as he held the tooth case in both hands. He murmured quietly, "You're my only friend."

I could see from the way the case was shining that he was in the midst of his memories after that, so I didn't answer him. I was sure that if I'd tried a little harder to understand him before, if the other Guardians had tried to talk things out instead of fighting him, things might have gone very differently.

Rather than describe our conversation afterwards, I'll tell you what Pitch saw. I'll have to embellish a little bit, because he didn't give me a lot of detail, but for the sake of the story I don't think you'll mind a little inaccuracy.

He was walking along a path through a forest. Two younger boys were with him. The younger boys ran about, jumping out at each other from behind trees, dumping snow on each other from evergreen bows.

"Don't go so far," Pitch complained. "Mum said you have to stay with me."

"We can see you!" the other boys chorused, paying him little heed.

Pitch trudged on, an annoyed expression all over his young face. "If you keep straying off the path, a wolf is bound to get you," he called.

"There are no wolves!" one of the boys said defiantly, but the other looked a little worried.

"Oh, yes there are. Woodcutter said it's been a bad winter. The wolves are coming down from the hills to find food. And they'd like nothing more than to eat up a silly little boy who doesn't know how to mind!"

The youngest of the boys came back to Pitch's side. "But they won't come on the path?" he asked anxiously.

"Not while I'm with you," Pitch declared. "I'm big and tough. I'm scarier than any old wolf!" he finished in a growl.

The boys laughed and the defiant one rejoined the others.

Back at home, Pitch's mother had a difficult time getting her youngsters to eat their vegetables.

"You'd better eat them up," Pitch admonished. "It will keep the wolves away."

They laughed skeptically, but he went on.

"Wolves like food that tastes like bread and meat. They don't eat greens. Never. So if you don't eat your greens, they'll come after yoooou!" He lifted his arms and waggled his fingers in a spooky manner.

The boys shrieked with laughter and began eating their vegetables.

"You oughtn't frighten them like that," Pitch's mother said.

"Something's got to keep them in line," he replied, and she didn't argue.

In fact, when the boys began to complain about their chores that evening, she said, "You'd just better do your chores, or a big, scary ghost-man will come after you." She gave Pitch a wink.

"That's right," Pitch joined in. "He'll snatch you away to a kingdom of nightmares where you'll be forced to do his chores forever!"

"You're lying!" shouted the youngest boy, but he rushed to wipe the crumbs from the table, and his brother fetched the broom to sweep up.

"I'm not lying! I'm hurrying to bring in the firewood! The Nightmare King won't be getting me tonight!" Pitch put on his boots and the long, black coat his father had brought back after one of his long trips.

When he got done bringing in enough firewood for the night, he crept up behind his brothers, who were washing the dishes.

"Do you think the ghost-man is real?" the younger asked quietly.

"There's no such thing," said the elder.

"But mum said so, too."

"BOO!" Pitch shouted, right behind them.

Both boys jumped, the younger squealing and the elder dropping a bowl of soapy water on the floor.

"Philip Black!" his mother exclaimed.

Pitch hurried to pick up the wooden bowl, smothering his laughter. "Sorry, mum. Only a bit of fun."

The last scene Pitch saw was on the path in the woods again. It was dark, and the wind was fierce.

"It's so dark," the youngest boy said, looking around fearfully.

"I heard wolves howling," the middle child said. "But I ate my greens."

"We're almost home," Pitch lied.

"No, we're not. We've gone ever so slowly because of the wind. We're not halfway."

"It's all right. I'm big and too scary for those wolves," Pitch said. But the howls were getting closer, and he was getting uneasy.

A little later, the youngest said, "They're following us, Pip. Oh, I wish you had Papa's bow."

Pitch stopped and listened. There was no more howling. He looked around and seemed almost to feel yellow eyes looking at him. "I've a confession to make," he said. The boys looked at him solemnly and he went on. "I didn't eat my greens last night," he said. "There wasn't enough to go around, so I let you have them all. That's why they're after us. You two go on home, and I'll lead them another way."

"But they'll eat you!"

"No, they shan't. I'm Pip... Pitch Black! I'm scarier than the scariest thing out there! I'll lead them away and then I'll fight them off. I'll be home before breakfast. Now, go on. Quick as you can, and no looking back."

The younger boys hugged their brother and ran on together.

Pitch stood where he was. He knew that wolves rarely attacked people, but the Woodcutter had indeed said that this had been a harsh winter. Food was scarce. He took a few steps back. A dark shape moved in the trees. Something stepped out on the path ahead of him.

"No!" he shouted. "It's me you want. Come here!" He scooped up some snow and threw it at the shape.

The wolves' attention was all on him now. He ran off into the woods, not paying any heed to direction. He led them through the thickest part of the forest, across a frozen stream and up the far bank, on and on until he couldn't run anymore.

Then he found a stout stick and made his stand on top of a rock, shouting at the wolves when they got close and waving his stick menacingly.

He was exhausted, but at last he heard the howling of another wolf in the distance. The wolves surrounding him answered. Eventually, reluctantly, the pack began to move away. Pitch crouched on his rock and watched them go, scarcely able to believe it.

I did it. I really am scarier than the wolves.

He had no idea where he was at this point, and the cloud-covered moon gave little help. He trudged along, trying to make his way downhill as best he could, but at last he was too cold and tired to go on. He lay down in the soft snow and closed his eyes.

"You are Pitch Black," the moon had told him. "Boogeyman and Nightmare King."

He didn't quite know what it meant. But it sounded important.

Pitch looked up at me, his wolf-yellow eyes full of wonder. "I think... I might have been a Guardian, too," he said, as if he could no more believe it than he thought I was likely to.

There you go! More soon if I find the time.