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Conall knelt down to scoop up a handful of snow, giggling as he packed it into a tight ball. Ducking down behind the frosted-over bushes at the sound of boots crunching on the frozen ground, he tried to stifle the sound of his laughter.

Smiling, Piers stood on his tiptoes, leaning over the shrubbery to see his brother crouched in waiting. Deciding to play along, he turned away, cupping his hand over his mouth and calling out to his sibling. The volume of the younger boy's giggles increased slightly. Taking a step away from the bushes, the older boy grinned broadly.

"Conall!"

The snowball that connected with his back made him shiver as the moisture seeped through his sweater. He spun, a mock-scowl fixed on his face as he charged through the bushes at the younger boy, knocking them both back into the snow. The pair rolled about, their clothes quickly becoming drenched. The ground crunched beneath them as they disturbed the frost-laden grass.

Conall's high-pitched giggles filled the air as the boys played, drawing grins from adults passing by and curious looks from the children who looked out from their windows to see what was amiss. After several minutes of shrill squeals and ear-splitting screeches, Piers stood, dusting the snow from his breeches before offering his brother a hand in rising from the deep impressions they had made in the snow. Grin fixed firmly in place, the younger boy grabbed the offered arm and pulled himself up. Occupied with cleaning as much of the winter precipitation from his clothes as he could before it melted, Conall did not take note of the gathered children until his brother said something.

"Hi. Wanna build a snowman?" Several of the children appeared confused by the brothers' frivolity. Piers began packing snow together tightly in a ball before rolling it along the ground. Shrugging, one of the other boys began helping him push it about. After doubling the ball's size, both boys were chuckling and smiling. Conall had occupied himself with another pair of boys building a fort from the bricks they fashioned from tightly-packed snow.

By midday, the group had constructed an impressive winter stronghold. Ramparts reaching over Conall's head were lined with snowballs. A cavern dug into the thickest part of the wall held a stockpile of ammunition for a campaign against the other group. Hidden by the height of the parapets, the younger boy's giggles once again peppered the air. Looking around for his brother, Piers took note of the fort with widening eyes. His surprise at what the younger kids had accomplished caused him to drop the head of the snowman he had been lifting to place atop the already decorated body.

Shaking his head amidst the joking complaints from those helping him, the older boy crouched down to pack the snow together once more. Concentrating on forming a tight center for the head before beginning to roll up the dusty winter precipitation once again, the snowball which pelted him in the back came as quite a shock. The quickly melting wetness seeped through his sweater, trickling in a path down his back. Wet and cold, he shivered, but continued to smile good-naturedly before lobbing the ball he had been preparing towards the winter garrison. It traveled in a nearly perfect arc over the walls of the fortress, the splat it made sounding loudly as it echoed off of the fortress' walls. A shriek followed the well-aimed contact. Giggling echoed through the street from both groups as snowballs flew in every direction.

Tsar Lunar watched from his place high in the sky, smiling at seeing the group of children play so freely. Though the moon's face was hidden by the daylight, his eyes were always watching. He would have to wait for nightfall to show his guardians how pleased he was with their progress. Until then, he would occupy himself by watching the young mortals enjoy their whimsical games.

Bunnymund had asked Sandy for some more of the dream sand after watching over the slumbering children during the night. The dream weaver had studied him for several moments before nodding and giving him a small pouch full of sand. The diminutive guardian had heard the boys giggling their amusement during the night as they slept, feeling a sense of accomplishment that he had done some good for at least two of Britain's children.

Watching as the pooka bounded off with the pouch of sand, he suspected he knew his fellow guardian's intent. He found himself wishing that providing consolation for his friend was as easy as solving the difficulties of the children's dreams. He knew the lagomorph trusted him, and Sandy hated to betray that trust in any way. Still, he had no means to block his connection to his own dream sand – something that Pitch had not realized when he tried to commandeer the magical substance for his own twisted purposes.

The diminutive guardian had no option but to watch as the sand surrounded the leporine paw. He keenly felt the sadness and joy that overcame his friend in equal measure as Jack's image formed in the glittering dust. Closing his eyes in the hopes of keeping North and Toothiana from asking him about the melancholy coming over him, Sandy witnessed the rabbit's attempts to locate the prodigal guardian using the same method that had led them to this village. Several times the ice wielder's face appeared in the glittering mass, but each time that the hare tried to focus on placing him in England, the face would dissolve.

He dared not send a message to the long-eared guardian of hope who was using the sand. It was possible, he mused, that the subject of his search was no longer in the Isles. Yet even as he considered the remote chance, he discounted it. No matter how disenchanted Jack felt, he had never abandoned the children. He had been the one, after all, to point out to them that they were spending far too much time in bureaucratic oversight and ignoring the opportunities given to them to directly guard the belief of the world's youth. The memory made Sandy even more certain that the white-haired guardian was still in Britain. That left few explanations as to why the sand could not locate him, and they were possibilities the dream weaver did not want to contemplate.

"I miss you."

He was talking to sand. He knew that, and yet it still made him feel better. Seeing his companion's smiling face staring back at him – even if it was the wrong color and glittered – was better than not seeing it at all. Grateful as he was for Sandy's understanding, he was aware that his time was limited. They could not tarry long with any delay of their mission, and he still hoped Jack would return to them.

Reaching out a paw, he lightly traced the air above the sand, caressing the line of the ice wielder's face. "I do understand. And I was harsh then." He hesitated before continuing, feeling as though he needed to explain himself, and not knowing when he would have the opportunity to do so directly. The moment's pause allowed his anger to overwhelm his sorrow, giving him the chance to vent the bitter feeling of betrayal that flowed close to the surface.

"You don't make it easy to love you, though, Jack. Leaving at the first sign of difficulty. Don't you think we could have helped you through this?" Because he was glaring at the sand apparition, the rabbit noticed the change in the eyes. They seemed sadder after he had raised his voice – not hard as he might have expected the younger guardian's eyes to become, but the same morose sentiment they had reflected back at him when the wind carried off his wintry friend. Frustrated, the hare clamped his mouth shut, regarding the sand disdainfully. Reaching for the pouch Sandy had given him, Bunnymund had prepared to scoop the mess back into the cloth confines which could magically bind it when he observed the transformation.

Leaving the sand where it lay he thumped the ground, opening an underground tunnel directly back to the town. Shouting over the short distance for the others to come quickly, he kept his eyes on the glittering map. He had given up on it showing him where to find his friend. Perhaps that was why the sand had finally given him a clue by showing him a path, one which intersected the very place they were resting while they considered their options.

Toothiana had been merrily giving instructions to her fairies, not paying a bit of attention to anything around her as she sent them bustling away. As a result, she was startled enough to squeal her surprise when the shout came through the tunnel Bunny had opened. She scowled briefly as she watched North and Sandy disappear into the hole. A smile lit her face once more, though, when the chirped question entered her ears.

"Of course you can come, my darlings."

Diving into the tunnel with her wings laying narrowly against her back, the guardian of memory grinned as she heard the giggling children behind her. Her happiness changed to mild confusion as the mirth seemed to grow closer, morphing into complete shock as several small mortals sailed past her along the floor of the tunnel, laughing gleefully.

Emerging on the other side to find Sandy entertaining several small children while North talked to the long-eared Australian, she was surprised when one more young boy came sailing through the tunnel. His momentum carried him high above the earth. The sounds of laughter that had peppered the air moments before quickly turned to terror. She did not even consider possible consequences as she furiously flapped her hummingbird wings in order to catch the falling boy.

Now empty, the underground route sealed itself as the pair landed safely on the ground once more.

"Th-thanks." She smiled at him, crouching down so she would be eye-level with him.

"You're most welcome." He beamed at her as she stood, keeping a tight hold of her hand as she walked over to see what the Russian and the rabbit were discussing so animatedly. A few moments of listening to the pair gave her some insight. Bunnymund had assumed he could use the dream sand to find their prodigal guardian the same way he had found the size of the affected area in England and focused on the center of the disturbance. The hare was demonstrating what he had done, focusing the sand into a mold of Jack's face, when the boy piped up again.

"Hey, I know him!"

The pooka's ears perked up and his eyes widened a bit as he turned to the boy. Having heard his exclamation, another boy came over to them, shushing the obviously younger child.

"Conall!" The older boy's voice was little more than a hiss. "He helped."

"Yeah. He did." Conall regarded the other boy quizzically. "Don't you recognize them, Piers?" When the older boy shook his head, Conall's chest puffed up with pride at knowing something his brother did not. Touching the fairy's arm as he released her hand he said simply, "This is the tooth fairy."

"You've gone 'round the twist." Piers looked at his younger brother with clear concern. "Seriously, you've got to be cracked."

"No," The younger boy shook his head emphatically. "I'm not, and she is. That," he began, pointing at North, "is Santa Claus. And the one showing him pictures is the Easter Bunny."

"Right." The older boy made his disbelief evident in his tone. "Then who's the golden one?"

Conall smiled. "He's the one that gave us good dreams last night. That's the sandman, of course." The guardians were beaming, glad that there were still children who believed. As they had all traveled through the tunnel, their faith had been proven, regardless of whether they recognized the subjects of that conviction when face to face with them. Continuing with his introductions, the boy pointed out Jack's face, still hovering in the air. "And that's the Ice King."

Making a short hop, Bunnymund crouched in front of him. "So you've seen him?"

Nodding quickly, Conall smiled. "Oh, yes. I was scared of him at first. I thought he was like her." North exchanged a quick glance with Sandy as the boy shivered at merely the thought of this mystery being. "But he wasn't. He took away the snow and ice when I started to fall, so it didn't hurt when my hands hit the ground." He held up his palms to show them that he was unbruised. "I think I made him go away though."

Barely able to keep his face from showing his sadness at hearing this, the rabbit simply tilted his head to one side. "What makes you think that?"

Lowering his head, clearly ashamed of what he was about to say, Conall told them about the morning before, when his mother had been chopping wood and the axe had slipped. "I glared at him, 'cause I thought he did it. But he didn't. He froze the axe in the air before it could hit mum's leg."

The older boy came forward, standing beside his brother. "So if you want to hurt him, we're not going to help you!" Piers' declaration was punctuated with a sharp nod as he bravely stared down the formidable looking Nicholas Saint North. The Christmas spirit could not help the boisterous laughter that erupted from at the thought that he could harm his fellow guardian.

"We are looking for him, da. But we do not want to harm him."

"Maybe a tiny bit." Bunnymund's muttering was picked up by Sandy, who wagged a finger at him in admonishment. The rabbit merely grinned in response, causing the dream weaver to cover his mouth, hiding his mirth behind his hand.

Conall and Piers seemed to be having a silent conversation as the Guardians watched. The other children were content to sit back and observe. Whether they had met Jack or had any insight to offer about why England was so frozen in summer, they kept silent on both matters. After several minutes of silent deliberation passed, Piers crossed his arms over his chest, directing his attention to the tall rabbit.

"You say you won't hurt him."

Crossing his finger over his heart and holding up his right paw, the hare answered, "Not on my life."

The boy's eyes narrowed. Toothiana tried not to distract the others with her stifled giggles as she watched Conall imitate his older brother's stance. The shorter boy did not quite have the carriage to simulate his brother's bearing. Her attention was effectively diverted from the younger boy's antics by Piers' insistent response.

"Prove it."