Autumn's point of view
After changing all of the leaves red; well attempted at red but the best I could do was vermillion. I just can't stop thinking about Jack. I finally reach my tree and land on a thick branch. I look up to the moon and ask.
"Why won't you answer my questions?" "Why am I here? What am I meant to do? When will you tell me?" I ask impatiently, I sigh. "Can you at least tell me that Jack is alright?" and after no acknowledgment I give up. I start walking down the branch watching the spiraling light beneath my feet.
Then all of a sudden red fabric impairs my vison as my feet are wiped out from under me. I immediately panic upon noticing that my bow isn't with me. My mind begins racing; I have three options. I can try and get out of the bag; I pry my hands through the top to find that someone has a very strong grip. I can call for the wind; then I remember that I'm in a bag.
I can cut my way out, I take one of my arrows and try and cut through the fabric to find that it feels like it's made of steel. I suddenly feel the cold rush of going through a portal. This isn't like my portals though; mine feel dry and smell like pine. This one feels wet and smells like chimney. I then feel the end of the portal and am being set down.
The second the sack hits the ground I spring from the bag. I point my arrow at four spirits, all have the look of shock. I notice my bow laying on the ground, I pick it up and examine it still pointing my arrow at the strangers. After I ensure that my bow is undamaged I connect my arrow and aim at the four. I take in my surroundings and find a dirty old sack with frost spiraling over top. Confused I look around some more to notice a figure standing in the corner. He has a blue hood covering his face and a G-shaped staff.
"Jack?" I say with sadness overwhelming my other emotions. I put my bow down and my arrow back in its quiver. I immediately replace my shock with anger. I cross my arms "Been a long-time Jack, where've you been?" I ask harshly. One of the four strangers clear his throat.
"Autumn Leaves we need your help," I turn to him.
"Ya, with what?" I say with unusual sternness.
"Pitch Black, he is back and you must help defeat him," he says with a Russian accent.
"Huh, and why should I help you?" I ask bitterly. Everyone looks taken back by my comment and I take that opportunity to surge through the window with Jack close behind.