Disclaimer: I do not own Rise of the Guardians. I make no profit from this work of fiction.
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A brief note: temperatures referenced are in Celsius, rather than the Fahrenheit to which US readers would likely be accustomed. Eight degrees Celsius is roughly equal to forty-six degrees Fahrenheit.
She had a single-minded focus, intent on driving to the station in order to catch the train to Dover. It was a two hour ride, but that would only be the beginning of a long trip. After that it would be an hour on the ferry to Calais, and from there more than half a day more to Florence. She had just pulled the front door closed behind her when she heard the phone ring. Sighing, she continued on to the old auto. Whichever friend was ringing to chat would simply have to wait. She heard the door to the house open again, but thought nothing of it. The boys would often come out to play, even in this dreadful weather. Not looking up to confirm her suspicions, she started the car.
She was just putting the car in gear when her daughter appeared at her window. "Mum!" Knuckles rapped on the glass, startling her. Holding a hand to her chest, she put the car back into park and turned off the engine. Feeling her rapid heartbeat underneath her palm, she let the car door swing open wide, staying seated as she scowled at the young woman who had alarmed her so.
"I'm old, dear. You can't try to jump start my heart anymore. It could have the opposite effect."
Shaking her head in amusement, the boys' mother grinned as she helped her mother from the car. "That was George on the phone. He said you were in the store the other day looking for aniseed." The older woman nodded briefly. "He said he doesn't keep it in the shop anymore, but he still cooks with it regularly, so he has quite a bit at his place."
The boys' grandmother perked up at the news. "In Birmingham?" Her daughter nodded. "Then I'm still headed to the station. The train will get me there in about an hour. I can be back in here in about three hours. That will leave me plenty of time."
"Are you sure, mum?"
The older woman nodded decisively, sliding back behind the steering wheel. "Quite." She closed the door, pulling out of the drive at a relatively sedate speed.
Libby had gone back up to the hill. Out of the numerous hills in the landscape surrounding the small village she called home, there was only one which interested her of late. Since her friend's apparent break with reality, she had frequently found herself returning to the same spot. It was natural, she had been told, to revisit the site of a trauma. Even though the ordeal did not directly involve her, when Libby's mother has expressed concern to one of the physicians at the infirmary, he had calmly explained that even witnesses will feel the need to revisit the source of their pain in an attempt to overcome it.
She supposed that she hoped to see the rabbit her friend was so insistent had been on the hill. Libby continued to hope that either Maisie would admit she had been mistaken or, failing that, she wished she would be able to see the same creature. If she could, it would mean that her oldest friend was not losing her mind. Being in a hospital where other patients were coming into her room talking about the same illusions certainly did not aid her friend in overcoming the hallucination. Sitting on the frost-covered ground, the young girl heaved a great sigh. She was uncertain if there even was anything she could possibly do in order to help her friend.
Having been on top of the hill since after breakfast, she rose, dusting the white powder clinging to her from her clothes. Tired as she was, she often found herself unable to sleep due to her growing concern. Sitting in the cold weather certainly was not helping her. Stuffing her hands into her pockets she walked back to her house, the crunch of the snow-covered ice underneath her boots echoing down the empty path.
Arriving at her home, she had expected to find her mother sedately going about her daily activities as she usually did. Instead, the woman was practically bouncing in exuberance. Confused but finding the scene amusing, Libby stood in the doorway until her mother looked up and noticed her.
"Oh, Libby! Have you seen the news?" The girl shook her head, a bemused smile still lighting her face. "London's reported the temperature is rising!" Her jaw fell slightly slack at the revelation.
"H-how?"
The older woman shrugged. "Does it matter? The snow there is melting quickly, and the ice has thawed! Granted, it's only up to eight degrees, but that's much warmer than the negative temperatures we've been seeing lately!" Her mother acted as though she had received a personal invitation to tea with Her Highness. "And it hasn't just stopped at London! It would seem that England is finally going to thaw from this eternal winter."
The kitchen timer sounded loudly, the high-pitched ding drawing their attention away from their conversation. Tilting her head back, Libby sniffed the air deeply, her eyes closing in joy as she realized that her mother was baking a treat in celebration. The scent of lemon wafted to her, bringing a large grin to her face. "The German biscuits?"
Her mother nodded, pulling a tray with several white rectangles on it. "I thought a treat was in order."
Libby got out a platter and two plates. Smiling at the older woman as she placed the dishes on the counter, the girl turned to get cups for coffee. "It's not even tea time, mum."
The older woman shook her head in amusement. "Very funny."
Annis was hungry. She had forgotten what it felt like to go without. These few days of food aplenty had spoiled her greatly. Snarling as she felt the vitality slowly draining from her being, she cursed those guardian spirits. They had been everywhere after she had left the hospital. No matter how far she traveled, they inevitably would show. It was beyond aggravating.
Siphoning bits and pieces of souls before their arrival had not been enough. The witch growled her frustration, the sound echoing in the otherwise empty cavern. She could feel the boundaries of her influence retracting towards her bower, and it caused her no small amount of annoyance. They edged ever so slowly inward. As the ice melted she could feel her power dwindling, could feel the power of hope spreading. Though she was loathe to admit it, it was entirely possible that she had managed to overextend herself in trying to spread her influence so quickly through Britain.
The witch knew she would need to be certain to feed when the sun set. She only had a few short hours to wait for darkness to fall, and she found herself ravenously waiting for twilight's arrival. The first mortal she came across, no matter its age, would find that when she felt starved, she was much less discriminating about her meals. Reflecting on her choices of late, she realized that by continually pushing her boundaries outward during the warmer months she had caused herself to be taxed more greatly than if she had begun her conquest during the spring.
Despite knowing that she might herself be responsible in some small part for her situation, the hag did not regret any of the decisions she had made. From waiting until well after Easter had passed to befriending Jack Frost in an attempt – however failed it eventually became – to generate sympathy from him, she stood by each act. Annis was well aware that she may have been able to spread her influence further from her bower and entrench herself more firmly in the communities which were thawing as she awaited dusk. Had she not distracted the winter guardian, however, he may have been more quickly returned to his comrades. Even as she sat in her cave, she could feel him, pacing impatiently as he waited for the chance to come to her.
Growling, she slashed her talons deeply into the rock floor of her cavern. "So that's how they did it!" Her voice echoed in her otherwise empty home. Her anger was only slightly diminished by the realization that she would be able to use the connection in the same manner. The irony, she concluded, was that she had created the situation herself. If she had not held on to his energy so tightly, the spirits would not have been able to follow her. Her hunger would have easily been sated, a problem she intended to rectify the minute the sun fell behind the horizon.
Jack had been pacing three feet above the floor for several minutes. His path took him in front of Bunnymund in each direction, and the stretch he was walking was short enough that the white haired spirit was traipsing in front of the rabbit every few seconds. Finally tired of the repetitive motion, the lagomorph grabbed his comrade by the arm, turning the ice wielder to him.
"Stand still, will ya?"
Running a hand through his locks, the winter guardian's cheeks colored a bit as he stared into his friend's eyes. "I can't help it. We might actually be close, finally. You heard what they said –"
The pooka scoffed. "Cairo probably heard what they said. They weren't exactly quiet about it."
Clapping a hand on the hare's shoulder, causing him to stumble a bit, North's jolly laugh echoed in the room. "Hard to blame them, da? Is good news, and will be even better news once we are able to stop her for good."
The sound of a car pulling up in the drive let them know that the boys' grandmother had returned. Making their way back to the kitchen, they found Sandy carefully directing streams of dream dust through crevices that would not put them in the paths of any of the house's residents. As busy as they had been with this crisis, the dream weaver had not neglected his duties to the other children of the world. The nightmare that the British children seemed to be suffering through daily was at least offset by the pleasant dreams he could bring them during their sleep.
Toothiana's fairies had been busily collecting teeth during the entire process, helping the Guardians to let children keep believing in them. One of the little pixies happened to be flying directly in front of the door as it opened. Colliding with the wooden paneling, the miniature sprite was sent into an uncontrolled spin, spiraling away from her mistress. Trying to right herself, tiny wings flapped furiously, only succeeding in propelling the diminutive fairy into Jack's chest.
The ice wielder reached his hand out, catching Toothiana's small companion before her impact could cause her to fall to the floor. Smiling down at her, he watched the tiny creature shake her head as though to clear it from the disorientation overwhelming her. She stood in his palm, her wings beginning to flutter rapidly as she rose into the air. Placing a small kiss on the tip of Jack's nose, the little sprite flew back to Toothiana whose giggles could be heard throughout the display. Shaking his head, the winter spirit walked over to stand behind Piers and Conall who were both eagerly asking their grandmother if she had obtained the necessary spice.
"Yes, yes! George had plenty. He even said he'll bring me some seedlings of my own once the weather warms up. I told him not to wait too long, but he didn't believe me when I told him that this winter would finally be coming to an end. Skeptical as ever he is."
Piers snorted. "I take it he didn't hear on the news about London then. It's all over the television and radio – if he's got either, he should know about it."
Smiling, the older woman looked down at her eldest grandson. "He heard the bulletin as I was leaving. Asked me what I could possibly know that he didn't. I told him that amount of information would put Encyclopedia Britannica to shame." Both boys stifled chuckles as Bunnymund laughed outright at their grandmother's statement. She graced them with a wry smile as she began unloading several bags of the spice. Turning away from them, she filled up her kitchen sachet with the seeds. When she moved to face them once more, she found the table filled with small pouches. Her eyebrows rose as she regarded her grandsons.
"We know you won't let us go with you, Gran, but that doesn't mean you can't be well-prepared." Conall's young face was hardened by both frustration and anger. Though he had said he accepted the decision to keep them from her confrontation with Annis, she knew that both boys felt they should be present to protect her. She laid a hand on his shoulder as she thanked him. Handing each boy a pouch to hold, she began filling them with the seeds. Once each was filled, the boys tied them tightly, setting them into the box she had brought in filled with the seeds before picking up another empty pouch to be filled. Because she was occupied with filling the bags, the older woman did not see several of the packets leaving the room.
She heard her daughter asking after her whereabouts as she quietly shut the door to the backyard behind her. She could not take the car to the hag's cave, so she was carrying the filled sachets in Piers' satchel. With the strap slung over her shoulder, she felt the weight of the seeds and hoped that she would be able to make it to the harridan's cavern before the sun set fully.
Hiking to the witch's bower, she did not notice the spirits striding alongside her. Had she been able to see the tall Russian with a frown firmly set on his features as he strolled, a cossack sabre slung over one shoulder while the other swung freely by his side, she might have turned and gone back thinking that he could handle it fine on his own. If she had seen the white haired spirit floating on a breeze to her right, his frost-covered staff glowing an eerie cyan, she might have wasted her spice on him. Blissfully unaware of the menacing appearance of the six foot tall rabbit walking behind her, she carefully made her way to the cavern, intent on ending the evil no matter the consequence. A breeze gently ruffled her thin hair on occasion, keeping her cool through the journey.
Crossing into the clearing just as the sun disappeared completely behind the horizon, she saw the haggard witch stepping from her cave. Steeling her resolve, she pressed forward, stepping fully into the brightly shining moonlight. Taking the smallest bag from the top of the stack in the satchel, she launched it towards the harridan with all of the strength remaining in her frail body. The angle in which she aimed the seeds was true, but the power she was able to put behind her attack was lacking. The pouch fell short of its mark, alerting Annis to her presence.
The witch looked from the seeds spilled at her feet to the woman flanked by three of the guardian spirits. Her cackle echoed through the trees. "I see the old woman brought the right plant this time."
Confusion was plain on the elderly mortal's face. Stepping closer to the hag, she launched another packet of the seeds. "I admit, my last batch was quite a bit older than this." Shaking her head as she tried to clear her senses, the harridan glared at the mortal stepping ever closer to her bower. "But I assure you, it's the same plant."
The witch made the mistake of catching the third satchet launched in her direction. Falling to her knees, she was ill-equipped to defend herself against the seeds which rained down on her from above. Looking skyward, she snarled loudly, her eyes slightly bloodshot as the essence of the spice began to seep into her skin. Her face twisted into a grotesque grimace, she returned her icy gaze to the mortal still in the moonlight.
She forced herself to her feet, ignoring the fatigue attempting to overcome her body. Wheezing, she called on the wind, coaxing it into carrying her swiftly to the woman. As her feet touched the frozen ground, she reached her arm out, talons closing about the elderly mortal's throat. "You plan to end me? Mortal, you'd earn my ire quickly if I thought you had any hope of it."
Smiling, the boys' grandmother opened one of the pouches, grabbing a handful of the seeds. Bringing her hand up to the witch's face before the hag's mouth closed, she jammed the seeds inside, her hand clamping underneath the harridan's chin, forcing her jaws to clamp tightly shut. Annis began choking, trying in vain to expel the spice. "I make you angry enough to loathe me by attacking you? I do think you miss the point." The witch's continual shaking dislodged the older woman's grip. "If your ire is earned by defeating your terrible reign, then I want you to hate me."