I have nothing to say for myself except sorry

This one is pretty short and I've split it in half even tho that's kinda dumb but like i've been working on it for 6 hours and I really wanted to update today to apologise for the... lengthy unofficial hiatus. It's been... a tiring few months. Keep on keepin' on.

Requested by EriTheBear. Apologies if I botched any slavic folklore - researching was surprisingly difficult, and a lot of what I found was contradictory :I

Shout-out to those of you who kept holding out hope for an update - your messages helped motivate me! Big shout out to kaitoustarlight on tumblr, whose beautiful fan art also helped a lot! Bless

Impossible Tasks Part 1

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Jack stood in the long shadows of the tree-line, staring up at the house dominating the clearing he'd stumbled upon. He'd been walking for hours, feeling like he'd been going in the wrong direction no matter which way he'd turned. His feet hurt, he was covered in dirt, and he'd lost his staff. There'd been no sign of North since they'd gotten separated. And the sun was starting to rise.

The sight of a house – of civilisation, no matter how small – should have been a relief.

It wasn't.

Jack sighed. He was really starting to regret... well, everything. He shouldn't have said they could handle it alone. He should have waited until at least one other Guardian was free to help. Instead, he'd dragged North into unknown territory, and now he was lost and grounded.

He should go knock on the door of the house. Maybe the owner could tell him where he was, or direct him to a town or something he could use to hail Sandy or Tooth. But. Hmm. He really didn't want to.

The house had legs. And a fence made of bones. Because of course it did. Everything in this forest had to be hostile, didn't it? Why were they always evil forests? Why couldn't they go to a benevolent forest, just once?

Well, he mused, it was either knock or keep walking. So far walking had not been working out. At all.

If nothing else, it was probably his duty as a Guardian to investigate. Some of the bones in the fence were suspiciously small. Maybe he'd gotten lucky; maybe this was where the thing they'd been tracking lived. Maybe North was already here.

Mind made up, Jack stepped into the clearing, and made his way towards the bone fence. There was a gate (also made of bones) a little further down from where he was. He nudged it with the sleeve of his hoodie to avoid having to touch it. It swung open smoothly.

The next problem was working out how to actually reach the house. The legs – a chicken's? - were taller than some of the surrounding trees, making the house itself well and truly off the ground. If he'd had his staff, flying up would have been simple. But, then, if this was their target's home, it had to be able to get up somehow, too, right? And for all its... 'talents', flying hadn't been one of them.

A solution revealed itself as he started circling around to the front of the legs: a tall ladder, propped up against the porch. An emaciated dog was chained near the base. It lifted its head to watch him with dark eyes. Jack gave it a wide berth, but it made no move to attack.

Up close, the house was rather weathered. The decking was nearly grey from sun-bleaching, and cobwebs hung from the awnings. A comically large mortar and pestle sat just to the left of the door. Jack eyed it warily as he knocked, then took a large step back, close to the edge of the porch.

Shuffling footsteps from inside steadily grew louder, coupled with unintelligible muttering. The door swung open.

It wasn't the thing he and North had been looking for. He wasn't sure whether that was relieving or not. Instead, it was a hunched old woman, with frizzled grey hair and a haggard face. She looked down the length of her long nose at him, assessing him.

Jack teetered indecisively. She looked harmless enough, but then again... the fence. And the whole chicken-house thing...

"Hmph," she said, followed by a string of words in Russian he didn't understand.

"What?"

"What do you want?" she repeated, this time in heavily accented English.

"Uh," Jack quickly glanced at the drop behind him. It wasn't too late to make a run for it. "Directions?"

The woman sniffed disdainfully. "To?"

Well, that was the question, wasn't it? He shrugged awkwardly. "I'm looking for a person more than a place, but the nearest town will do."

The woman looked him over again, this time more critically. "I am going to town soon. Complete some chores for me, and I will take you. Deal?"

Why did this feel overwhelmingly like a trap? "What kind of chores?" Jack asked.

The woman turned and disappeared back into the house, a crook of one bony finger gesturing for him to follow.

On the one hand: suspicious old lady in a chicken house with a bone fence. On the other: it was just chores, right?

Jack edged to the doorway, but lingered on the threshold. There was no way he was going inside until he knew it wasn't a trap.

The interior was better cared for than the exterior. There was a fire burning in a hearth, with a large pot hanging above the flames. A small black cat, as thin as the dog on the ground, was curled up in front of it. It blinked sleepily at him.

The old woman made her way across the room to a small dining table, muttering all the while. She grabbed something from its surface, and made her way back over to where Jack was standing.

"Chickens got out," she said, pressing a small key into his hand. "Put them back in coop by midday."

Jack examined the key carefully, but it seemed innocent enough. Just a standard iron key. "How many are there?"

"Eight."

"...And if I don't manage to get them all in the coop by midday?"

The woman's grin stretched until she was showing nearly all her teeth. It was not a pleasant smile. "I eat you."

And there it was.

"Uh, no thanks," he said, handing back the key, and spun on his heel. No matter how simple it sounded to put chickens in a coop, there was definitely going to be a trick somewhere. And he had way too many things to do to let some crazy old woman in the woods eat him.

She didn't attempt to stop him as he slid back down the ladder, and the dog didn't even bother to get up. But when he got back to the gate, it was closed. No amount of pulling or tugging budged it.

Jack looked back up at the house. The old woman was standing at the top of the ladder, watching him with her arms crossed. Like she expected this. Oh no.

Maybe he could jump the fence. It wasn't that high. And okay yeah he'd probably have to touch the bones but it was that or stay corralled in the yard like a prisoner. He stepped back a few paces, and sprinted at a slightly lower section.

As soon as his hand came into contact with the top of the fence, a skeletal hand reached up and clamped down on his wrist. Another grabbed him by the ankle as he cleared the top, and suddenly he was in the yard again, on his back, staring up at the sky. The phantom feeling of bones lingered. He shuddered.

The sky was blocked out as the woman loomed over him. She offered him the key. With a resigned sigh, Jack took it.

.

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North scowled at the first rays of sunshine poking through the trees. The Bubák had put up quite the fight until the promise of morning had scared it off. North had chased it as far as he could, but it was faster and more nimble than him. Jack might have been able to catch it, but North had lost track of him a good few hours ago, when the Bubák had lured them to a particularly steep riverbank, and tried to drown them. North had managed to haul himself back to shore, and the Bubák had chosen to keep hounding him instead of going after Jack, but Jack had been swept further downriver. North could only hope that he was okay. With morning chasing the Bubák back into the realm of death, he had at least until sunset to try and find him.

Sheathing his swords, North turned back the way he had come. The easiest way to find Jack would probably be to make his way back to the river and walk along the bank. Or, no, the easiest way would be to get the sleigh and try and spot him from the air. Unfortunately, the forest was too dense for it to land, and they'd had to leave it on the edge – too far away to be worth finding until they were ready to head home.

But not to worry; Jack was more than capable of taking care of himself. And, really, the boy could fly. He'd probably find North before North found him. They'd probably run into each other again before midday, and that would give them plenty of time to work out a plan for when sunset inevitably came.

It would be fine.

Guest Review Responses:

Demi clayton: Thank you!

Milly: Wow that's wild. Wonder how that one started? Definitely not common down south where I am, but I'd believe it's used haha