Okay, first off, disclaimer I completely forgot about for the last chapter. The italicized sections are the lyrics of a song called The Green Fields of France, written by Eric Bogle. The version I used is the one sung by The High Kings. Thank you so much for all these lovely favs, follows and reviews! I've had a bit of a backslide but I'm doing better than I was two months ago and I'm taking it one step at a time.
Chapter 12
November 1970
If any of the spirits had been inclined to pay attention, they may have been concerned at the fact that Jack Frost seemed to have fallen off the face of the world. While the winter spirit had always been a loner, it was rare anyone saw him at all these days. Even during the colder months when he was usually out and about, whirling about with the Wind and whipping up snowstorms, bringing enough snow with him for sledding and snowball fights and all those other fun things children love to do in the wintertime.
The summer sprites payed no attention, nor did the rest of the seasonals.
Bunnymund's only response, had anyone asked him, would likely have been something along the lines of "Good riddance."
The Sandman, upon noticing the unusual absence of his occasional playmate, became slightly concerned, but of course he was unable to say anything about it.
Toothiana, being wound up as she was, did not notice at all.
North thought it strange that Jack Frost was not at his usual refuge at Burgess when Christmas came around.
Pitch Black couldn't really care less.
Coyote, Raven, the White Owl Woman and the elder spirits, if anyone had bothered to ask them, suspected they knew what Jack Frost was doing, and they were a little puzzled and slightly concerned. If what they suspected had indeed come to pass, then it would be the first time anything like this had ever happened. Death, after all, was not known for associating with the Moon's spirits, or really any class of spirit that wasn't ghostly in nature.
However, if someone had decided to take the young frost sprite under their wing, well… there was certainly no one more reliable, and they were happy that Jack had perhaps, at last, discovered his family.
As far as Jack was concerned, Death was not a bad parent. Not at all, actually. He was always willing to listen when Jack wanted to talk about something, would provide quiet support and a shoulder to cry on when necessary and always seemed to know when Jack needed a confidence boost.
He also didn't make a bad pillow.
He also wasn't worried about being frank when asked difficult questions.
"Why do they all hate me?" Jack muttered quietly, pressing his face closer to Death's chest and leaning into the gentle carding of skeletal fingers through his hair.
"Because you're different," Death answered simply. "And for most beings, different is frightening, something to be changed or avoided."
"Why?"
"To be honest, I cannot fathom it," Death said. "To me, any difference that does not cause harm is refreshing, something interesting and new and potentially helpful."
Jack twisted in Death's embrace to look up at him. "You think I'm helpful?"
"Yes. You bring joy and a chance for renewal, do you not?"
Jack's face twisted in confusion. "The summer spirits always say that the only thing winter brings is cold and death… No offense," he added quickly. Death merely chuckled and resumed his stroking of the child's hair.
"In ancient times, winter was considered the season of rest and reflection, a time to look back on the old year and consider what could be done better in the new. It was also a time to consider fond memory and for peaceful rest before the work would begin again in spring, a respite for the Earth; a sort of incubation period, if you will. It was a season of death and endings, yes, but also the beginning of rebirth and a crucial part of the annual cycle."
Jack considered Death's words quietly for a few moments.
"You are important, Jack, and have just as much right to light and life as the summer spirits and all other beings do. Whatever else may come, never doubt that."
Jack went utterly still then, looking up at Death with wide, shining blue eyes. Barely a second later he buried his face in Death's chest, hands grasping the black fabric of his robe.
"Thank you."
If Jack's voice was a little hoarse, Death didn't comment on it. Instead, feeling the child's trembling, Death began to sing as he once had when Jack would come to him after a particularly bad nightmare.
"Once upon a time, many years ago,
An archer lived in the woods all alone.
No friends had he but the birds in the sky
The creatures of wood and the wind's gentle sigh.
He had the stars in the dark of night,
The archer who lived outside world's sight.
Until one day it came to pass
A fair maid came riding up the old forest path.
Fair she was, and gentle too,
But this maid came with a trouble or two…"
Jack was asleep before then, a small smile etched on his tear-stained face.
Peace and love to all those affected by the Orlando shooting. My best thoughts and wishes to you all.