I walk a lonely road

The only one that I have ever known.

Don't know where it goes,

But its only me,

And I walk alone.

'Boulevard of Broken Dreams,' by Green Day

Chapter 9

The map now pointed out various spots all over Europe, the Middle East, Russia, the entire Asian landmass, and most of Africa. The map kept switching to show the right paths to each object, and Rhos only had to touch a path to choose which one for the map to stay on. Once he was at his destination, Tempus told him, it would switch to intructions on how to safely handle the items he was sent to fetch. The quest now was to pick up things that held Time Magic, Dark Magic, or even worse, Death and Demonic Magic.

Time Magic was just the manipulation of the flow of time, as discovered by a few brilliant magicians of Atlantis thousands of years ago. Most of those relics were so obscure that those that had possession of them had no idea what they had, much to Rhos's benefit. It was always easier to get your hands on something that everyone else thought was worthless.

He wasn't' so lucky with the Dark Magic items. Dark Magic was a huge class of spells, potions, charms, and rituals. Anything that caused deliberate pain, or sacrificed anything unwilling (barring plants), would be classified as Dark. Curses, hexes, sacrificial rituals, magical poisons or cursed objects were all Dark Magic. Rhosgobel would have his hands full trying to track down the sheer number of things the map listed. Destroying anything that taught how to make such awful things was going to be a big help to his cause.

Death Magic was anything to do with reanimating the dead or summoning spirits. Rhosgobel absolutely hated working on those cases. The act of creating zombies was evil no matter how you looked at it. Putting spirits into newly dead bodies; reviving those killed into a cursed life to work murder and destruction on everyone they met; and even worse, deliberately killing someone to drain them of life force to fuel more Death Magic; all of this was some of the most evil magic imaginable. Thankfully, most of the world shared his view on such vile things, and most had already been in ruins or in abandoned places.

Demonic Magic was surely the most dangerous kind; no matter who used it, it never ended well for them. It was a cardinal rule of magic that you never invoked something that you didn't have the power to get rid of. Demonic Magic pretty much threw this sound bit of common sense and logic right out the window. Demons could bestow terrible powers and magics to their summoners, ones that often couldn't be countered with anything less than the strongest purifying magic. The worst was surely when a demon broke loose and possessed their summoner, turning them into a living incarnation of Hell. They became incredibly strong, fast, and extremely tough to defeat. Rhos could remember a battle with a minor demon who'd possessed its summoner that had cost them over 100 of their best Elves in combat.

Thank MiM that Rhos had insisted that North begin to teach him magic back when he'd been Jack Frost. Rhosgobel knew enough about magic to understand how much he didn't know, which North had explained meant that he could become a great magician someday. (Magician was the rank of a powerful wizard in Atlantian tradition.) He'd just begun to master a few purifying spells when the end had come.

Of course, with so much to find, it mean that Rhosgobel would have to go from infamously crowded cities to the emptiest desert. He had to be careful to not draw attention to himself. A Pooka that any human could see was sure to draw some shocking attention from the magical community. Not to mention, the Sandman went all over the earth each night, with Tooth's fairies not far behind him. If he wasn't careful, he would be heard of and spotted sooner than he could blink. Christmas and Easter were, thankfully, only two days per year, so North and Aster shouldn't be too hard to avoid. He wanted to see his friends again, so badly that it ached, really. But they wouldn't know him now.

They weren't his friends yet, not even as Jack Frost.

He didn't know if he could face any of them yet. Right now, it would hurt too much. So he would avoid them for now, at least, until he was strong enough to see them again. MiM knew, if he saw any of them before he was ready, especially Aster...It would probably take everything he had to not break down in front of them.

So all he had to do was find shelter at night and avoid populated areas around the holidays, right? Right.

Which did not really explain why he'd stopped in Russia, St. Nicholas's Orthodox Church, 1714.

On Easter Sunday.

A feild of new grass poked up from underneath scant patches of snow, soft and green, and dotted with daffodils just beginning to bloom. It was beside a small stone cathedral that was fully decked out in Easter regalia. The sun had just begun to rise a few minutes ago, and Rhos could already see a few hardy children gathering in the village to start the Easter Egg hunt early. A brisk, cool wind was blowing, rolling the light cloud cover away. It was the perfect day for an egg hunt.

Rhos stood just inside the forest line that ringed two sides of the little feild, his silvery cloak hanging loosely around him. He just wanted to see the kids being happy again. As long as he was careful, no one should see him at all. The cloak would hide him from eveyrone's sight, even magical beings', so he would be fine. He could hear faint traces of laughter already, the children finding their friends to come to the feild. Oddly enough, he didnt' see any eggs. 'Hmm. Weird. The egg hunt will probably be starting soon. Aster is normally more on the ball than this-'

A gruff voice with an Australian accent spoke lowly. "Turn around. Nice and slow."

Rhos froze, his breath catching as he felt the hard tip of a boomerang in the middle of his back. Oh god, no. It couldn't be. His heart began to pound loudly in his ears, every muscle in his body tensing to run. He knew that voice. Very, very slowly, his head turned to look behind him.

His mate. The Pooka that he loved and had seen die, was standing here. Alive. His Aster...

A wary E. Aster Bunnymund was standing behind him, boomerangs in hand, brilliant green eyes watching his every move. Or at least he was staring very intently at his general direction. Long grey ears were twitching madly, and when Rhos shifted on his feet, the ears seemed to home in on the sound. "I can't see ya, but I can still hear ya and smell ya. State your business."

Rhos tried, oh god, he tried, but his throat was closing tight, nothing was coming out. "I...I..."

"Why are ya here? Are you here to mess with my googies, or are you here for the children?"

He frantically shook his head, trying to turn around, "N-no, no!"

"Then why are ya here, and," Rhos could practically hear the confused frown in his mate's-in Bunny's voice, "why the bloody hell can't I see you?" He pressed the boomerang harder at Rhos' shoulder-

And a memory tripped in Rhosgobel's head.

"Get out, get out! The outcast can never return to the homeland!" the white-furred elder shouted angrily. A red tipped boomerang zinged through the air, nicking at small black-tipped ears, and the kit shrank back in horror. "On pain of death! If you ever come near one of us again, we'll kill you!"

It took three frantic leaps before Rhos realized that he was running. Leaping, jumping, bounding across the earth as fast as his Pooka legs could carry him. Panic from that memory filled his chest and sent his legs moving, his front paws reaching down to grip the earth and pull as he ran, faster and faster.

A shocked voice cried out in a language that he could barely remember, but it just fueled the panic. Large feet were pounding the ground, running and leaping after him, and his ears twitched and flattened back. Instinct he never even knew he had rose up from his subconscious, making him zig and zag through the trees in a dizzying path. Rhos finally gathered enough of his wits to grab the Time Pendant, activating its power. In a streak of silver light, he was gone.

A panting Bunnymund stared in the direction the other male had disappeared to in utter shock, one hand braced against a tree's trunk to support his shaking legs. The Easter Bunny couldn't remember ever running that fast, or ever being beaten in a chase. But that wasn't what had him so disbelieving.

He had just seen another Pooka.

The moment he'd caught a hint of a scent of some strange figure on the edge of the grassy feild, the Guardian had gone to investigate. He'd thought that maybe it was some imp thinking it would be funny to crush the eggs, or worse, some pervert come to harm the children. The Pooka had been leaning a lot more towards imp since the smell of magic was so strong around it. But he couldn't see him! It just looked like the air over hot sand, wavy and almost see through if not for the faintest distortion. And the scent had been so odd, like warm fur, a hint of male, something almost minty, and ...Bunny would almost swear that it had smelled like Time, if Time really had a scent.

The stranger's reaction to Bunnymund's interogation was rather telling too. His heart had started beating like a wardrum, and getting faster with each word the Pooka had spoken. He knew he shouldn't have poked at the male while he was so jumpy, but he couldn't have expected what happened next in a thousand years.

The male had turned his torso to face him, and from under the hood Bunny had caught the sight of shining, hypnotic blue eyes filled with fear in an impossible face. He had a charcoal black nose over rich brown fur, long ears pulled back under the hood of that strange cloak, and twin streaks of sky blue tribal paint running down his cheeks like tears. His furred arms had long thin digits with blunt claws on soft front paws, and he had large powerful feet with legs almost too thin for his body, meaning he was an adolecent. And then Aster heard panicked words spoken in a language that had died thousands of years ago.

"Lachei ni-kyet! Lachei ni-kyet! Maganoi ni-po curtari!" *

*("Please don't kill me! Please don't kill me! I won't trespass here ever again!")

E. Aster Bunnymund had just heard the language of the Pookas from another tongue for the first time since the genocide of his people. He just wished that the words had been anything but what they were.

So shocked was the Guardian of Hope by hearing his native tongue, that when the smaller Pooka had started to run, it had taken him a full three seconds to follow after him. He cried out after the kit, "Nyuka! Nyuka, lachei! Pi jula kaht ree!" * ('Stop! Stop, please! I just want to talk to you!')

If anything, his words just frightened the younger Pooka more. Then the kit was actually faster than him, something Bunny had thought was completley impossible. And somehow, in a flash of silver magic, the Pooka was gone. How in the world had he done that? Bunny had thought that only North had teleportation magic!

What confused Bunny the most was, well, why was the kit running?! Why was he afraid of him? And why in MiM's name would the only other Pooka he'd ever seen in centuries think he was going to kill him?

Aster didn't know, but he was going to find out.

And he would need help. That brown Pooka had gone so fast, he hadn't even been able to see where he was going; and whatever that silver magic was, it had erased his scent behind him. There was no way Bunny could find him on his own. Normally, the proud Pooka wouldn't ask for help from the other Guardians, but this was too important. he could not afford pride to prevent him from finding the last of his race.

Bunnymund swore right then and there that he would indeed find this last little Pooka. And protect the poor kit for the rest of his days.

Now, to finish up Easter, and then head to Santoff Clausen to call the others.