Chapter 3:
Hi, guys! First of all, let me apologize very profusely and sincerely for taking so long to update, but I've just started my freshman year of college, so… yeah, I've been dealing with all that entails. I'm still trying to figure out my classes and weekend schedule and stuff, so I won't be able to post very consistently for a while, but I promise to make an effort. Thank you so, so much to everyone who has reviewed, followed and favorited this story!
These next few chapters are for Taranodongirl1, who requested in her review that I write a little bit about Jack's life with Death. They're short stories about Jack's life with the Four Horsemen, Death's Reapers, and a few others.
The White Horseman
November 1714
To say Pestilence was surprised when a small brown and white blur streaked through the treetops and landed barely five feet from his horse's nose would be an understatement. He didn't react beyond tugging lightly on the reins to bring his mount to a stop, but he was certainly intrigued. Whoever, whatever it was had plainly seen him, and it was also plainly not one of his colleagues. Nor was it-he, Pestilence realized, a Reaper.
His horse snorted and shook its mane as though disbelieving, mirroring its rider's sentiment.
The creature was a boy, one of the Moon's spirits if Pestilence's senses were still working correctly. He had white hair and wore ragged brown clothes covered with whorls of frost. In his right hand he held an old sheppard's crook. And judging by the way the boy was smiling and meeting the White Horseman's gaze with ice-bright eyes, the spirit could see him quite clearly.
"Hello!" The boy said brightly. "Are you one of Ants'nel's friends?"
Who in all the realms is… Then Pestilence blinked. This must be the frost spirit Famine mentioned. Jack.
"Yes. And would I be correct in assuming you are Jack Frost?"
If possible the boy's grin stretched even wider. "Yeah! That's me! How'd you know?"
"Our black-clad friend told me about you."
Jack's smile faded and his brow furrowed. "What does… 'clad' mean?"
Pestilence felt a smile threatening to show. "Clothed."
"Oh. Oh, Eia! You know her, too!" Jack said, practically bouncing up and down with excitement. Pestilence surmised Eia was the name Famine had given Jack to call her by.
Said frost spirit was suddenly standing barely a foot from the white steed's nose, studying the horse intently. Barely a second later he was smiling again. "Your horse is really pretty."
The horse blinked. Then, slowly, it stretched out its neck and nosed Jack's shoulder, taking in his scent and snorting loudly as a few stray snowflakes wafted up his nose. Jack laughed.
"Hey, boy," he said, reaching up and scratching between the horse's ears. The horse whickered and pressed into the touch.
Pestilence could feel one eyebrow arch. His horse never liked anyone that fast. As though sensing his rider's incredulity, the white steed tossed his head and craned his neck around to give Pestilence a look.
With a sigh so quiet it wasn't really audible, Pestilence leaned forward and scratched his horse's neck in apology. The horse, mollified, returned his attention to examining Jack's ragged cloak. The child smiled again and reached up to run his fingers through the steed's mane.
"Do all of Ants'nel's friends have horses?" Jack wondered aloud.
"Most of us do," Pestilence answered. While he had little interaction with Death's Reapers he knew many of them did indeed ride, though some preferred driving carriages. A rare few simply liked walking everywhere.
"Do you ever smile?"
Pestilence blinked again. Then, when the question registered, he tilted his head to the side just slightly. "What do you mean?"
"I don't think I've seen your face change except for, at most, a few degrees since we've been talking," Jack said, mirroring the tilt of the horseman's head as he tried to puzzle him out.
It had been so long since anyone had mentioned it that Pestilence had to think about his answer for a few moments. "I've never been known for my… expressiveness."
Jack's grin practically split his face. "Bet I can get you to smile."
"You're welcome to try."
At this point Jack laughed out loud, spinning around one full circle before calling the Wind to help him leap up onto a tree branch above the White Horseman. "Was that a challenge?"
"Read it however you will," Pestilence responded.
His horse whickered, sounding strangely like he was laughing, and stomped his hoof.
Jack grinned. "It's on," he said, laughing as he stood. "I have to head to Germany and stir up a snowstorm or two, but I'll find you later!"
The boy swooped off before Pestilence could even think of a response. He was back barely a second later, hanging from the branch of a large pine by his legs.
"What's your name, by the way?" he called down.
Pestilence cocked his head, considering.
"Maras," he answered after a moment. Jack grinned again, eyes sparkling in the light of the dying sun.
"Catch you later, Maras!"
With that the frost sprite was gone again, leaving nothing but a few branches and a light dusting of snow to show that he'd ever been there.
At least that was what Pestilence thought until he heard the crackling sound of a branch bending several feet above him, and barely a second later a large clump of snow landed square on his head. He sighed.
"Clever little sprite," he muttered, brushing snow out of his hair.
His horse whickered again, shaking his mane and dancing a few paces to the side.
"Oh, quiet, you."