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Disclaimer: Sadly, I am not the genius behind A Song of Ice & Fire, nor one of the ones behind Rise of the Guardians. All I own is my own insanity, which I claim proudly and fully blame for this convoluted mess.
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Chapter Twelve: THE APPRENTICE
Fat snowflakes melted into his silent wings, soft and wet and blissfully cold. His golden eyes saw farther and clearer than he ever had before; he could almost see each individual crystal in the snow below. Weak sunlight glittered off the fresh powder like an endless expanse of diamonds and gentle breaths of wind stirred the flurries playfully. Breathing in the deep peace, he closed his eyes and rolled into the breeze, letting it buffet him around.
His romp was cut short as a stray current spiraled him upwards, crashing him into something as cold as ice, but far softer. His vision spun in dizzy white circles for a moment and he hooted in distress, trying to reorient himself.
"You alright?" The voice was close and strange, accompanied by cold hands that smoothed his feathers and checked his wings. He was spun around once more, brought face to face with bright blue eyes. "You shouldn't fly with your eyes closed, youngling. Especially not in a borrowed body."
He cocked his head, blinking stupidly. He was sure he did not know this man with his odd white hair and piercing eyes, but somehow he could see him inside the owl. "Who are you?" he questioned, forgetting his form. All that breached the air was a series of hoots and beak-clicks, followed by the man laughing.
"I don't speak owl. I declined North's offer to teach me; never thought I'd need it."
All he could do was blink in confusion and hoot irritably. So he did, squirming against the cold gentle grip that still held him. And he fell completely still again as two figures approached; one white, the other mostly black. Recognition warmed him down to his talons and he gave a happy chirring noise.
The man glanced over his shoulder and smiled. "Tell Brynden an old friend is stopping in, youngling. And perhaps you should don a more suitable skin?"
With another laugh, the man tossed him into the air. He floundered for a second, held aloft by gentle breezes, and then he stretched his snowy wings, wheeling back towards the greenseer's cave.
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A/N: Arrgh! Do you know how WEIRD it is to refer to Jack as a man instead of a boy? Period differences, guys; they're a pain in the petunia, I tell you what. Oh well, I survived it. And yes, last chapter, North totally did Pocahontas the shit out of his language barriers. *struts*