hope you enjoy! sorry that i didn't update my other fic, i just had this one milling around in my head and had to get it out before i lost it. i promise to update it soon though! please review!
It had been raining all day, certainly a bad hair day for the Pooka, but he didn't mind. After all, knowing the wind spirit, it could be much worse. But that is why he was here. Trudging through the mud, decaying leaves around his feet, looking for the pond that had birthed said winter spitit. It was nearly Christmas, and it hadn't snowed nearly as much as it should. North and the other guardians were growing worried, so they had sent him to check up on Jack, being too busy to go themselves.
Eventually, Bunnymund came to the clearing with the large pond that was usually frozen over by this time of the year, but yet Jack was no were to be found. Bunnymund walked down to the edge of the water, and watched his reflection as the water lapped up lazily around his feet. Even the water wasn't that chilled. Just as he bent down for a drink, a cool wind blew across his back.
He spun around, and there Jack was. His feet were completely covered in mud; even his hoodie was splattered with it. His hair was messier than usual, but his smile was broad, and lifted Bunnymund's heart, despite himself.
"Come on ya old kangaroo!" he called, splashing from puddle to muddy puddle, purposely spraying him with mud, and Bunnymund tried not to smile.
"Now wait just a second Jack, we gotta talk," he tried to call after, but Jack didn't seem to hear him.
"Jack, Jack! Listen! Where's the snow? It's almost Christmas and it hasn't truly snowed anywhere!"
Jack's shoulders stiffened, and he stopped splashing, his back towards the Pooka. If it weren't for his amazing hearing, he wouldn't have heard the winter spirit whisper, "I know."
Jack turned around, and for the first time Bunnymund saw the bags under his eyes, his once pale cheeks had a rosy tinge to them, and how thin he looked. "I can't do it," he said, even quieter than before, and crumpled into the mud.
In one giant bound Bunnymund was at his side, and caught him before he fell face-first into the puddle. His eyes were closed and his breathing shallow. Bunnymund had to act, and had to act soon, but he didn't know what to do. He was a guardian, and they don't get sick, do they? And he seemed perfectly fine, jumping in the puddles, before Bunnymund had even said anything.
The Pooka gathered up the smaller Guardian in his arms, and opened one of the holes he uses for traveling. North and the others would know what to do; surely they could help if he couldn't. And with that, he disappeared down the hole, hoping it wasn't too late to help Jack.