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"One of these days, mate. One of these days." Bunnymund's Australian drawl was not – for once – directed at North. Years of having the rabbit travel through his magical tunnels had given him many a chuckle. On this particular occasion, however, the complaint was directed skyward. As the Russian followed his long-eared friend's gaze to the heavens, he noted the aspect of the moon in the sky, nearly laughing aloud as the celestial orb seemed to wink in response to the grievance.
Scowling, the guardian of hope smoothed down his fur as he took in their location. The ground beneath his paws was hard and firm, slumbering as the earth did in winter. He thumped his right foot, bitterly unsurprised when the flowers which customarily sprouted at that action did not bloom. Shaking his head with some sadness, he raised his gaze to his fellow guardians.
"Right then. Ideas?"
A methodical thunk and clack in the distance as the sun disappeared behind the horizon caught their attention. The group headed towards the sound, speeding up as a woman's terrified gasp was carried to them on the wind.
"Piers, no!"
Bunnymund rounded the corner into the woman's back yard in time to see her rushing to the door, the others coming to a quick halt behind him. Her fright was palpable. Its nearly tangible presence surprised them, as did her lack of concern for her own well-being as she dropped the axe in her sprint.
"It's just one more load to carry, Mum."
"Stay inside." Her words were forceful, startling even North with their vehemence. "I'll get it."
"Mum, you can't possibly –"
"Piers, help gran with dinner, or play a game with Conall. But don't come out here."
Throwing his hands up in exasperation, the boy went back into the house. Tension seemed to leave the woman with the torrent of air she exhaled. Toothiana fluttered behind the woman as she retrieved her axe and returned to the stump where she had been chopping wood. The fairy became more concerned when she saw the woman's glistening tears as the rolled down her cheeks.
Raising her face to the moon, her reaction became obvious to the group. Taking note of her apparent grief, Sandy's normally brightly glittering sand dimmed a bit. He squared his jaw, nodding decisively as he rose into the air. He entered the woman's house taking no note of the physical mortal barriers. A brief moment later, he returned to the group, his sand having resumed its customary brilliance. The dream weaver's normally relaxed and jovial features were set in a mask of determination. Momentarily perplexed by the change, Bunny quickly understood as the mother's words carried to him on the next breeze.
"Please. If there is one good being out there, I pray you keep my children safe. I've never been one for superstition and never one to worship deities." Her soft tones were nearly inaudible as she pleaded. Tears rolled down her cheeks, leaving streaks of skin awash in salt amidst her dust-covered face. Swinging the axe into the air, she embedded it with some force into the tree stump before crouching down to pick up the wood she had chopped. The wood gathered in her arms, she stood, staggering under the weight of the chopped logs. She walked slowly to the house's back door, glancing up to the sky once more before she pried it open. "Please. Save the children."
The guardians watched quietly as she entered the house, resolve etched into their features. Eyes narrowed, Bunnymund turned back to face his companions. "We intend to, sheila. Right, mates?"
The sound of Toothiana cracking her knuckles was punctuated by North's baritone echoing across the darkening yard. "Da, tovarisch."
As the sun crested over the horizon, the dawning of a new day did little to bring cheer to the dreary streets. Jack wandered through the town, the mischief in which he often enjoyed embroiling himself no longer holding the same thrill. The woman whose company he had been keeping lately seemed to take joy in winter – which was of comfort to him since so many only looked forward to his season because of its affiliation with Christmas. He certainly held no ill will towards North. The jolly guardian helped preserve the wonder of the world's children, and their delight with his enchantments often meant great fun and merriment for the ice wielder.
With spring having reverted to winter for England, though, the children were no longer willing to play in the snow. They had found no joy in skating on the ice, no pleasure in making a snow angel, and no delight in a slight shiver as dancing snowflakes showered about them. Sadly, his attempts to convince the woman who seemed to at least know what was causing the shift in the weather fell on deaf ears. Until she had revealed that she was bound to the isles, he had thought she was ignoring him entirely.
Lying on his back as a gust of wind carried him lightly down the street, Jack was oblivious to the children standing on the pavement below. He did not notice as one tapped another, then another, directing attention towards him. It escaped him entirely that he had a small entourage following him, watching him with awe and wonder. When the wind settled him on a bench near a statue, the spirit simply folded his hands behind his head. It was only the feeling of a drop of water splashing next to him that caused him to look up.
To say he was stunned by the gathered throng would be an understatement. Even as a guardian, Jack had often not been visible to many of the children who could see North or Bunny. He felt no shame in his envy of Bunny for the popularity the lagomorph enjoyed. It often served as a point of contention between the two as the rabbit would frequently tease him about not being seen. Those conflicts would quickly devolve into playfully caustic comments. Regardless, he had never been surrounded by as many children as had gathered about him while he lay on that bench.
Giving a meek wave, he watched with a growing grin as each child waved back. "Ah, hello. I take it you can all see me?" Several of them were somewhat slack-jawed, but they nodded as a group. Swallowing his pride and knowing that he was setting himself up to be hurt again, he pressed onward. "Why?"
One of the boys, somewhat stockier than the rest, spoke up. "You're the winter king, ain't ya?"
Jack's brow furrowed. "Where did you come up with that name?"
"What's it matter?" a little girl's petulant voice rang out. "You are, an' that's why we ain't got no harvest."
Turning to her, he patted the bench beside his leg, hoping she would come to sit. Tentatively, she did. "Actually, I hadn't been here since before Easter." Several of them regarded him with clear disbelief. "No, honestly. I have a pact now with the Easter Bunny –"
"Pshaw!" The stocky boy sneered at him. "Easter Bunny ain't real. No more so'n the Tooth Fairy."
Letting a wide grin light his face, Jack nodded. "Oh, they're real alright. As real as I am."
"Can't be."
The whisper had come from directly in front of him. There stood a small child, no more than five years of age, holding a tattered brown rabbit firmly in her arms. She squeezed the toy to her chest tightly, using it to cover the plain material that was serving to shield her frail body from the elements. The long sleeves of the dress were frayed at the cuffs, the fabric worn thin from being laundered too often. Jack's eyes dimmed as he took in her form, sadness washing over him at her state.
"Why do you say that?"
Her hazel eyes locked with his cerulean gaze, her stare saturated with hope. "If they were real, they'd make the winter go away."
The ice wielder considered her words carefully. "Well, winter often continues even after Easter. Didn't it still snow after Easter this year, but then spring started to come?" Scrutinizing their faces, Jack could see each child trying hard to remember. He smiled as several began nodding slowly. "And you all hunted for eggs this year, didn't you?" Several giggles could be heard as confirmation. "Well then. You know the Easter Bunny is real."
"Right then. What's your proof for the Tooth Fairy?" The boy had his arms crossed over his chest, the stance an obvious dare contesting Jack's attempts to bolster faith in his fellow guardians.
Smiling, the fun-loving guardian mirrored the boy's stance. "What proof do you have that she doesn't exist?"
Sneering, the boy fairly spat his reply. "You ain't got nuthin' sayin' she does, do ya?"
"Why don't you believe in her?" Jack asked sadly. "You believe in me."
The group exchanged glances with each other, a soft murmur covering the crowd.
One of the older girls piped up. "All she does is take teeth, right? I mean, what does it matter if we don't believe in her?"
"Then why do you believe in me? All I do is spread winter mischief." To demonstrate, Jack charged his staff, letting the eerie blue glow draw their attention as he formed ice sculptures in the air. As several of the children began shivering, their gaze fell away from the shepherd's crook he wielded. Gasps of fright peppered the air as they took in the numerous winter carvings he had created.
"He's creating more winter! You shouldn't have brought us to him, Bronwen. He'll freeze us all, and keep us for her for sure now!" Shrieks surrounded him, distressing the white-haired guardian. Since he failed to grasp their meaning, the admonishments they used against a tall, brown-haired girl confused him greatly. He understood the tone, however, and moved to protect her, letting the ice sculptures he had been creating for their amusement dissolve.
"She's in league with him, she is! Made a deal to save herself from Anny – if she gives the rest of us up!"
Though Jack did not understand what the children were referring to, he did know that this was going to end poorly for the girl if he did not put an end to it quickly. He did the only thing he could think of to stop them from advancing on the child. Raising his staff above his head, he called to the elements over which he held sway. The wind carried him high into the air over the gathered group.
A wall of ice flashed in front of them, several shielding their eyes as best they could as the sun glinted off of the shiny surface. Gusts of wind blew about the children quickly, their velocity keeping the group pinned in a circle. Snow swirled about them, rising and falling with each tumultuous breeze. As the children screeched and moved closer together, the winds began to quiet, finally ceasing their raging to reveal a perfect frozen statuette of the girl they had been prepared to attack. Scrambling backwards, the young mortals fled in terror.
Jack floated back down, letting his feet lightly touch the ground. The snow swirled gently around his ankles as he approached the sculpture. Nodding, he turned from the ice figure. As he approached the snow drift the small storm had created, he drew the cold back into himself. The girl stared up at him in wonder.
"Bronwen, wasn't it?" She nodded, too shocked to speak. Holding out his hand, he waited for her to take it before escorting her down the street in a direction none of the children had scattered. "Now, tell me. Who is this Anny they were talking about?"
Pitch had been watching him from the shadows all day. Since his defeat at their hands those many years ago, the nightmare king had come to a very clear realization. He did not need to be seen in order to be powerful. A lack of belief could cripple a guardian, but as long as the world had fear, he could easily obtain whatever he wished. He had been too eager to rule when Jack had entered the scene, too quick to turn a potential ally into an enemy for wanting him out of the way. The lesson had been bitter, but Pitch certainly did not intend to repeat his mistakes.
When Jack had called up the winter elements and disbursed them several minutes later to reveal the frozen girl, the dark prince had genuinely smiled. Perhaps it had not taken as much as the witch had thought it would in order to sway the ice wielder. His joy was shattered as he watched the snow drift melt to reveal the child safely encased inside. Hearing the question about their blue-skinned 'friend', Pitch considered briefly smashing the ice sculpture in order to divert the guardian's attention. Finally determining it would be an impetuous act, he simply watched as the pair walked away, keeping to the shadows a small distance from them so that he could hear their conversation.
He listened intently as the girl described Annis, noting that she left out some of the more telling of her physical traits. Likely the omission was unintentional, but the nightmare king would not discount some possible influence the witch had over the girl. Making a note to be sure to determine the chances of such a possibility, he was unable to suppress a toothy grin when he heard the tremor of fear in the child's voice.
The delightful thing about spending time with Annis was the fact that the fear she called to the surface wasn't limited to a child's nightmares. Her power extended to adults, and anyone of any age could see her as long as they believed. The same might be said of any of the spirit world, but it was hardly notable if an adult could see a seven foot rabbit. The mortals would simply assume intoxication and be on their merry way. Seeing a jolly round man with a twinkle in his eye that fit the accepted description of 'Old Saint Nick' would result in gentle smiles and reminiscing of childhood wonder. Seeing a white-haired man with a glowing blue shepherd's crook making snow angels would send the mortals back to ideas of inebriation, or perhaps the abuse of more potent substances.
Annis, though, was shrouded in the night, and the witch was the architect of terror in this part of England. It had been their folly that had allowed her to gather so much power, and for his part, Pitch intended to use that mistake to his utmost advantage. He would stay near her for now, and let her use his shadows in order to travel. Once she became a burden instead of a boon to him, though, she would quickly find out just how powerful and determined an adversary he could be.
Having seen the girl safely home, Jack sat alone on a rooftop. He had heard the woman who had kept him company the past couple nights calling to him some time ago, but had ignored her invitations to join her for the evening.
The youngest guardian was musing over several things the girl had said, and over the event with the children in general. He had been taken aback by how quickly they had turned violent, and understood that whoever this Anny was, she threatened the children of England. He had begun to understand why the children had lost their faith. As the one boy had pointed out, he had no proof that Tooth existed – and really none that Bunny did either.
Thinking of his blue-furred friend had him reclining on his back, staring at the stars. Freezing the moisture in the air, he formed a small bust of the Australian. Tracing his finger over one of the ears, he smiled wistfully, before allowing a melancholy to fall over him once more. His memories of their recent escapades in the warren were tainted slightly by his notable preoccupation with regret. Staring into the icy eyes he had molded, Jack's voice was little more than a whisper carried on the wind.
"I want to need you, Bunnymund. I really do."