𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐈𝐂𝐄 》 JACK FROST

XXVII. Crows to Spiders, Lovely

CROWS TO SPIDERS, LOVELY

2007 AD
16th March, 1:00PM
Unknown

The collection of newly found scrapes and bruises were somewhat familiar to Agatha. She had had phases of déjà vu before - but now she knew that it was for a reason. To her, it was no longer a random chill that ran down her spine, now it was a reminder that she didn't know who she was - who she is. Somehow, this was all connected to her past life, but how?

''Ags, you good?'' Jack asked from her left and Agatha glanced at him. He, too, had a new collection on injuries, the worst being a painful looking scratch across the side of his neck. There was that feeling again. Was this her fault?

Agatha nodded, lips pursed before she remembered how to speak. ''Yeah, yeah, I'm good. You?''

She could physically see the way his shoulders untensed, his clutch on his favourite stick loosening ever so slightly and his gaze softens. ''Never better.''

Agatha nodded, looking up. The crows hadn't done them much harm - a few scrapes from their wings as they darted close to them than usual, and a few bruises from where they had been tossed at them, or fallen out of the sky, but it had been the forest that had done the most damage. Trees swaying towards them, roots twisting around their feet, branches twanging crows in their direction, like baseball bats hitting stray balls, a few flowers even twirled up out of the floor to spray pollen and other nectars in their faces. And for what?

''Can't say I've ever been protected by birds before,'' Jack smiled, still trying to catch his breath. Agatha quirked the side of her mouth at him.

''What's wrong? All that flying got you outta shape?''

He shoved her slightly - as weak as he attempted it, it felt even weaker, limbs fatigued from the death experience.

''Oh, be quite. It's not like I asked for my powers to be taken away,'' he rolled his eyes, finding that they trailed the flock of crows as they went. ''Shame yours are gone too, we could really use a little crow-on-one interrogation.''

Agatha hummed. ''Why do you think the plants attacked them?''

Jack's mouth dropped open, eyeing something in the distance. The clearing was what they had assumed saved them from any more hits, but upon further staring, he found that that was wrong. ''I think the better question is, why did they stop attacking?''

''Because they realised any longer and you would've passed out from pure exhaustion? And where's the fun in that?''

Jack didn't reply, he didn't even move his gaze. Agatha furrowed her brows. Had she teased him too much?

She stepped towards him, cautiously. ''Jack? What's going on-''

He gently grasped her chin, again, his eyes never wavering, and moved it so she could see what he saw. Her eyes lingered on him for a second, worried, before she looked straight ahead, trying to understand what was happening.

''Oh.''

There, a few hundred yards ahead, was an abandoned building. Some of the walls had been knocked down, and ivy had overrun them. The marble structure was barely visible underneath all the ruble and stone.

''We should check that out.''

Agatha grabbed the sleeve of his hoodie. ''I don't know, Jack, it's covered in plants. Plants are why we're even here in the first place.''

''No, Pitch is the reason we're here, and this might help us find answers to questions - questions like how to defeat him.''

Agatha didn't make a response, her eyes darting all around the clearing, as if waiting for an attack. Jack could tell she was still unsure, and as urgently as he wanted to get there, he waited in silence, letting her think it through.