It was a three day march deep into the forest until they reached their destination. Three brutal days of trekking through the dense jungle surrounding their home. But they made it. No trouble, no casualties. It was a good start, in North's opinion.

"This is where disturbance was reported. We make camp here," he announced when they came to a clearing in the trees, dropping his pack.

Turning at the collective sigh of relief as his men dropped to the ground, North studied the trees, and the shadows within. He felt more than saw Aster move to join him. The younger man crossed his arms and studied the trees the same way as North, a frown worrying his face.

"What are we up against here, North?" he asked finally, sneaking a glance at his friend.

"Do not know. Does not matter." North returned Aster's glance.

"We will defeat threat when it shows its ugly face."

"Damn right we will!" Aster agreed with a laugh, slapping North on the back, a confident smirk on his face as he turned back to the others to help set up camp.

North smiled at his younger friend's enthusiasm and turned back to the trees, a feeling of unease that he couldn't place settling in his gut. They would destroy whatever threatened their home; they always did. It had been that way for years, beginning shortly after the first settlement of their village. Things had begun to attack the village, viciously, killing any out after dark. First they were thought to be overly bold animals –but they weren't, no animal was like that nothing was—

North shook himself back to the present, regaining his train of thought. They had and always would protect their village, and the people who lived there. But the big man had a feeling something very wrong was happening back home. He felt it, in his belly.

-Line Break –Line Break –Line Break-

It had been six days since North and the hunting party had set out. Almost a week and Jack still hadn't stopped his pouting. He sulked as he did his chores around the house and farm. Moped when he went into town; he kept the sour look on his face when he went to bed. And during dinner on the sixth night of his perpetual pouting, Emma decided to take action.

She threw her bread roll at him, hitting him in the face. Which earned her a sulky glare from her sibling.

"Your face will freeze like that," she accused. Katherine rolled her eyes and Jack sputtered.

"It will not!"

"Will too. You better stop pouting."

"I'm not pouting."

"Yes you are."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Am not!"

"Are too."

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"Mom!"

"Children," Katherine warned with a sigh. Oh the joys of having two opinionated children.

"Jack, you cannot keep this up."

"It's not fair!" Jack complained, going back to his sulking.

"Sweetie, you're too young to go with them."

"Aster went when he was my age! Boasts about it all the time, how he's still the youngest in the group."

"Oh, that's what this is about," Katherine sighed, rubbing her temples.

Aster was not only a type of adopted uncle to Jack, but also a big brother. They were best friends, co-terror creators, close as any blood kin. They were also the most stubborn of rivals. Anything Aster did Jack had to do. And be ten times better at it. Aster was the same with anything Jack was good at. It was a constant source of stress and pounding migraines. Any time on out did the other, this sulking went on for weeks.

"Jack," she had to tread carefully here. One wrong moved could lead to a tantrum that would last a month, at least. Her boy was very stubborn when it came to mourning any wrong he thought was done on him.

"You and Aster….. are very similar," she decided, watching his reaction. "But you are not the same. What Aster was like at your age is not how you are," and now the hard part, "you are not ready to go out."

Jack kicked the table leg and exploded, declaring 'that's stupid!' as he kicked the leg again and again, shaking the table and the food on its surface. And Katherine decided it was enough.

"Don't speak to me that way," she snapped. "And stop kicking my table!"

Jack yanked his foot back and shrank into the back of his chair. While his mother may have yelled at him more frequently than his father – almost all the time, to be honest – it didn't make it any less frightening, especially when she turned the Look on him. Luckily he was saved from being fried under the Look by a loud crash outside.

"Dingle got out again," Emma chimed, looking up from her intense focus on her food. She hated it when Mama yelled.

"Oh that damn horse. I don't know why your father insists on keeping it," Katherine grumbled.

"I'll get him mom!" Jack declared, jumping out of his chair so fast it nearly fell over. He dashed over to the door, pulling on his cloak and boots as quickly as he could.

"Don't think you've avoid this conversation, Jack," his mother warned.

Jack forced down a curse and quelled the impulse to slam his fist on the door frame. He glanced over his shoulder, gave a call of his understanding and jogged outside to find his father's horse.

They had two horses in their stables, and Dingle was his father's favorite. Jack never understood why. Dingle was stubborn, didn't let anyone but North ride him, was a terrible work horse, and really, kind of stupid. But North loved him. And every time North left the village, Dingle fussed and kicked at the fence until he got out.

Well, Jack thought, at least he always went to the same place. Jack moved through the trees with ease, much more limber and at home in the woods than anyone else in his village. Much better at forest trekking than Aster, he thought with a smirk. Ah, and there was Dingle, at the lake where he always was. Bet Aster couldn't have found Dingle that quickly. The thought made him smile.

Jack moved to the horse slowly and quietly; spooking a horse was never a good idea, something his father taught him very early on.

"Hey there, Dingle," he said softly when he came up next to the horse. He wasn't a bad looking horse, Jack had to admit; he had a very beautiful reddish-brown coat over powerful muscles. Didn't make him any less stupid or annoying, though.

"Look, I know you love it here, boy. I do too, but we need to head back now." The horse only snorted and bent down to drink from the lake.

Jack sighed and patted the horse's neck, sinking to the ground and looking around the lake. It really was beautiful here. Serene, dazzling; it was Jack's favorite place to go and get away. If there was a fight with his parents, Aster, or if he felt overwhelmed, Jack always came here to feel better.

He wondered how Aster and his dad were doing out there. He sat there thinking of the two for a while before he looked up and realized the sun had begun to sink as he wandered through the woods and was lost in his thoughts. That wasn't good, his mom was probably worried sick with him out so long.

"Come on, Dingle, time to go home," he sighed, moving to his feet. He grabbed the horse's reigns and led him through the trees. "I have to go get my head chewed off," he added in a mumble, smiling when Dingle nuzzled his head.

Okay, he conceded while he stroked the horse's nose, maybe Dingle wasn't so bad. He gave a laugh when the horse nipped at his pockets. He shoved the head away, and it only made Dingle more persistent to get at his pant pockets.

"I don't have any food," he told the horse with a laugh, pushing the wandering mouth away more firmly. "If you hadn't run away, you wouldn't be hungry," he informed, raising his brow, feeling happier than he'd been in almost a week.

He had been sulking, he realized, smile slipping away. Man, now he had to apologize to his mom. He hated that. Oh well, she was right and he'd been a brat. Time to diffuse the tension in the house.

He was almost to the village when he saw a shadow dart in the side of his vision. He put a calming hand on Dingle's neck when the horse started to fuss, eyes darting in panic. He shushed the animal and crept into the pushes where the shadow had gone. Peeking through the branches, Jack froze and held his breath.

In front of him, not a foot away, was a line of men, on horseback and on foot. They were dressed in all black, their horses the same color, all so dark the blended into the night. They were all staring at his village. Jack felt his stomach drop when the men drew their swords, gleaming in the moon light.

"Take as many as you can," the man on the center horse ordered, "kill any who resist."

Jack felt his heart sink into his stomach as the men moved forward, toward the village, his village. He waited for them to leave trying to control his breathing, his muscles tensed and begging to run, his heart pounding so loud he was afraid someone would hear. And when the last remaining man, the one who'd given the orders, turned to where he was hiding he stopped breathing altogether, terrified someone had heard him. The man gave a few tentative sniffs to the air, then took a deep breathe through his nose, throwing his head back. Jack saw a terrifying smile as the man looked back at the bush, then let out a sigh of relief when the man rode off. To… his village. Right, not good.

Jack took a calming breathe and dashed back to Dingle. He swung onto the horse's back and grabbed the reigns. There was no saddle, but it wasn't too much a problem, he'd learned to ride bareback long ago. It was just more of a pain.

"Come on, Dingle, we've gotta get back!" he urged, spurring the horse forward.

Jack didn't know if Dingle was just responding to the urgency in his voice or if the horse really understood what was going on. Either way Dingle rushed forward at Jack's urging, despite the boy not being his preferred rider, racing back to the village.

The village, that was currently on fire.

The buildings crackled as they burned. People ran about in a wild panic, and Jack just watched in horror as the men in black herded them. When a woman was slashed down by a man on horseback Jack jerked back to reality. He needed to get to Emma and his mother. That in mind, he directed Dingle toward his house. It too was on fire, and there was no sign of his family.

"Mom! Emma!" He called as he dismounted. "Mom, Em! Where are you?!"

He ran forward with no thought and it proved to be a mistake. He felt a pair of strong arms wrapped around his torso, lifting him off the ground and dragging him back. He kicked and flailed, clawing at the arms holding him as he tried to kick at the man's legs.

"Put me down! Let me go!"

"Silence, boy!" Jack froze when he felt the cold bite of the sword against his throat. He went completely limp, breathing heavily.

"Jack!" he heard his mother call in terror.

He looked over when the sword at his throat was moved to point at the voice. His mother stood just outside their burning home, looking strong but terrified. Emma cowered behind her, clutching at the skirt of Katherine's dress. The man waved the sword at the two, Jack felt his anger rise and this time when he struggled in the man's hold, it was in attack rather than panic.

The man dropped him when Jack's heel connected with his knee with a sickening crack. The man fell on his side with a cry and Jack scrambled to grab the man's fallen sword. He smacked the butt of the weapon on the man's head, then wacked him twice more after he was unconscious for good measure. Then he dashed over to his mother and sister, sword still in hand.

"Jack!"

"Mom, Em! Are you okay?" He asked when he reached them.

Emma latched herself onto his waist as soon as he was in reach. Katherine wrapped an around Jack's shoulder and pulled him – and by extension, Emma – to her chest.

"What's going on?" Emma asked tearfully, big brown eyes wet with tears when she looked up from where her face was buried on Jack's stomach.

"It's going to be alright," he promised, rubbing the girl's hair.

"We need to get everyone out of here," he said, turning to his mother.

The woman nodded and pulled her children along. They found a number of villagers hiding among the burning buildings, and they all made their way to the trees. There were only a handful of them, only a little over twenty out of the hundreds in the village. But they all made it to the trees, Jack in the lead. Unfortunately, even with their small numbers, they still attracted unwanted attention.

They were surrounded before they even made the tree line, swords all around, people on the edges snatched away. Jack eyed the man in front of the group – the leader – moved forward, that dangerous smile from earlier plastered on his face. He looked Jack over, smiling in amusement at the sword the boy raised to meet him.

"You're a trouble maker, aren't you?" He said, meeting Jack's eyes.

Jack lunged forward in response, ignoring his mother's cry of concern, blade meeting the other man's. The other men cheered their leader on as they herded more and more of the group away. Jack gave everything he could in the fight, the sword shaking in his hand with every strike. North had been very persistent in teaching Jack to fight, specifically with swords. The man would often dazzle his young son with stories from his homeland (North was something like a Russian pirate – or, bandit, as he put it) while he trained the younger Jack with in the use of the most basic weapons. It certainly paid off now, and he was pretty skilled with a blade. But the man was far better, and Jack was losing ground fast.

His sword was knocked from his hand when another man grabbed him from behind. The leader slashed at him once more, leaving a long gash from the center of his chest to his left shoulder. He vaguely heard Katherine shout in terror as the lackey threw him to the side. Jack brought a trembling hand to his shoulder and it came back slick with blood. The cut was shallow, but it still bled profusely and Jack felt sick at the sight of it.

Pain bloomed through his lower chest when the lackey delivered a swift to his ribs and rolled the teenager onto his back. He heard his mom begging for the man to stop in between calls for her son from where one of the other men held her with a sword against her throat. The lackey above him raised his weapon, ready to plunge the blade into his vulnerable chest. He should have been afraid, the shouts from his mother certainly suggested it, but he was too shocked from the blood leaking from his shoulder to feel much of anything.

"Hold it," the leader called as the lackey prepared to pierce Jack's exposed chest. He swiped a dab of Jack's blood from the flat of the blade with his thumb, smearing it between the pads of his fingers as he studied it.

"But sir, you said—"

"I'm aware of what I said. But we'll be needing him; so get him up!" He ordered.

"Yes, Captain," the lackey answered, pulling Jack roughly to his feet.

Jack struggled weakly as the man tied his hands behind his back, aggravating his wound. He slowly came back to himself as he was marched to the others of his village, tied together by the hands, like cattle. He flailed in the lackey's gripped, throwing his head back so it flopped against his captor's mid-chest. The lackey responded with a harsh hit to the head, making Jack see stars.

"I greatly desire to kill this insolent little shit, sir," Jack heard the lackey call to the captain as the leader mounted his horse.

"Bailee that!

"In fact, I'll be taking him," the captain declared, scooping Jack up and on the horse by the waist. The moved jostled his gash, sending a bolt of pain through his chest that left him panting and exhausted.

"He won't be able to walk with that shoulder and we can't have him dying on the way. Now send the crop on their way, we're moving out," he ordered with finality.

He urged his horse forward, leaving the lackey grumbling none too happily behind him. Jack blinked back the exhaustion and the lingering ringing in his ears from the blow to the head, focusing on his surroundings. Then he put what little reserves of strength he had into struggling.

"Get your hands off me! Let go of –ack!" Jack's words were cut off by the tight hand around his throat.

Dark flowers bloomed around his vision as the captain pulled Jack's head back to rest on his shoulder.

"I am the reason you're still alive right now," he snarled, breathe hot on the shell of Jack's ear. "So shut up and do as I say, you hear?"

The grip on his throat vanished, leaving Jack gasping and chocking. The captain kept a firm hold on Jack's waist as the dark horse trotted forward, passing the line of villagers as they were marched forward. Jack may not have been able to escape, or have had anywhere to go if he was able to, but that didn't mean he was going to make things any easier for the man. He tested the roped on his wrists as he twisted in the captain's grip, hoping to loosen one or the other. The man only tightened his grip and pulled Jack more firmly against his chest. With his mobility full restricted, Jack did the only thing he could think of.

"Dad!" He called, jerking pathetically in the strong grip. "DAD! Daddy, help me please!"

But the only response was the laughter of the horrible men and their captain as the people were lead away from their smoldering village.

-Line Break –Line Break –Line Break-

North jerked awake in a cold sweat, instantly forgetting what woke him. It had been another three days since they had made camp in this clearing, and every night nightmares had plagued his sleep. None had frightened him like that. But the fear from this one still lingered in his veins, leaving him cold and terrified. Jack, it was something about Jack. His eyes widened as his heart froze. Jack was in trouble.

North jumped to his feet, waking everyone near him as he went to his pack. His boy, his boy was in danger.

"North? North, mate, what are ya doin'?" Aster questioned as lumbered over to the man, still half asleep.

"I must go. We must go back," North muttered as he frantically re-packed his supplies.

"What? North, it's the middle of the night. And we still haven't found the—"

"I don't care!" North exploded, turning to his friend and grasping the younger man's arm in desperation.

"Something is wrong. I've known something was wrong since left village and now….now fear something awful has happened. Happened to my boy," he said in a whisper.

Aster the older man for a moment, concerned for both North and the possibility that something had gone back home; they took almost all of the able bodied with them on the trips, the village would be near defenseless in an attack. It sounded insane, like the ramblings of a madman. But Aster had learned over the years to trust North and his instincts. His belly, as the big man loved to put it.

"Alright, I suppose we're headed out then. Let's move!" He called to the other men who were either still asleep or watching.

North finished packing and lifted the pack to his shoulder, ready to head out even if it was without his men. Something was happening and they needed to get home. He looked down at the tug on his sleeve. Sandy looked up at him in concern; not in the concern that the man was losing his mind, like the other men were shooting their leader as they packed, but concern for what had him worried so.

"Something is wrong; I know it," North whispered, clutching his sabers – his weapons of choice on these trips – as he began to pace. "I fear we may have left them exposed with this journey. I fear we may have left them vulnerable to the monsters."

Sandy nodded in understanding, looking just as concerned as North. They had learned long ago that the monsters of nightmares were quite real. And it was never good to be vulnerable to them.

All that was left to do was head home. And pray he was wrong.