The Weeping Willow [Rise of the Guardians]

Chapter 3

~Dedicated to breefitz~

 ~~~

Jack was smiling at the children as they rolled around in the snow, when movement from the trees caught his eye. He swiveled his head around to refocus his gaze, but he couldn't see anything apart from the leaves and branches covered with snow.

"Jack!" one of the children called, regaining his attention.

"Yeah?"

"We have to go home now, but promise you'll come play again soon?" the kid's face was full of hope and excitement, emotions that were mirrored on the faces of the other children, too. Jack chuckled, ruffling the kid's hair fondly.

"Sure, I promise."

He waved as they trudged back into town, each child heading to their own house. Glancing to the sky, Jack sighed.

"Again...?" he huffed, grasping his staff and floating high in the air as the wind carried him closer to the Northern lights.

 ~~~

She paused at the base of the frost-covered willow tree. Sitting with her knees pulled up and her head down was a little girl. She had messy brown hair that was pulled back into pigtails and her jeans were splashed with mud.

The child's shoulders shook gently with muffled sobs.

This was one of the times she was thankful for being an exceptional spirit. She'd never really fit in with the other spirits for a reason.

She could be seen.

All the other spirits dreamed of being noticed and having a mortal see them, but she didn't. She could be seen, when and by whom she wished.

It was just one of the many traits the Man in the Moon had given her that made her special.

"Are you alright?" the spirit asked in a soft voice. As she became visible, solid, the spirit's clothes changed from the dress and cape to jeans and a jacket. Trading in her moccasins for boots, she kept the scarf on, as always.

The little girl looked up, a trail of tears sliding down each cheek. Bright green eyes looked at her as the spirit gasped. This was the same girl whose mother had told her about willow trees two years ago. This very willow tree, in fact.

"What's your name?" the spirit asked with a small smile, as she recovered.

"I'm Maggie," the little girl sniffed, "Wh-who're you?"

"My name is Willow," she answered, taking a seat beside the girl on the ground. She used her index finger to brush the tears from the child's cheek, her skin distinctly darker than the little girl's. "Why do you cry, Maggie?"

The girl looked at Willow, her eyes looking glassy. "My step-bro-brother was being mean."

"Oh?" Willow asked, rubbing Maggie's back in slow circles.

Maggie's muscles relaxed as Willow began to sooth her. Maggie had been frightened of the older girl at first. She wasn't used to talking to teenagers; she was only seven herself. But Willow had a calm presence and seemed friendly so far.

"Yeah. He-... he said that Santa wasn't r-real. He said that Sant-ta never came with presents, and that the East-ster Bunny didn't deliver the eggs-s. He said I was a bab-by for-... for believing."

Maggie had the hiccups, so it took her a minute or two between sneezing, sniffling and hiccuping to finish her explanation. Willow didn't once pause in rubbing Maggie's back as she listened.

"Hey," Willow said, gently taking Maggie's chin her hand and facing her, "Believing doesn't make you a baby, Maggie." Lowering her voice, she added, "Want to know a secret?"