north's sleigh

Chapter 20

Ari’s POV

I soared out of the hole and surfed as fast I could to the Pole. As I did, the world seemed a bit dimmer (and not because it was night). I flew through the window and landed in front of the globe. A couple yetis looked up at me but Phil looked at me, continued his work, and then slowly turned his head to me. I looked around the workshop. Where is everyone?

“Um does anyone know where the Guardians are?” I asked.

“Ooh yarg ga na,” Phil said.

“I’m sorry what?” He rolled his eyes, pulled out a piece of paper and pencil, and started to write. After a few moments he handed the paper to me. It read:

They went to look for you. They thought Pitch had you.

“Well he kinda did.” Phil widened his eyes, and I got his message. “You don’t think …” He nodded. Someone whistled from behind me and I turned to see a yeti pointing at the globe. I surfed over to it and hovered above it. Very few lights were on the globe, and those lights were near each other in the Burgess area. Then there was only one light left. I had to find that kid before Pitch could get to them, but what about the others?

Motion to my right caused me to turn my head to see Phil waving a sign back and forth that said “Go find Jamie!”

“What about the others?” The sign still moved. I sighed. “All right.” I then took off to Burgess. As I traveled there I thought about how this happened months ago. Toothy had told me the same thing happened, but at the time I didn’t know or notice. I soon was at Burgess and found Jamie’s bedroom window. He was asleep, but he was having a nightmare. If Jamie wasn’t the last light, then who was?

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thehopefulones  asked:

(just so I can make this a thread later while I'm at school) North's so called 'sleigh' was a large red truck. Taking a red sack out of it, he passed a box over to Sherlock. "Here, you take cake. I hope you're alright with singing happy birthday, Mr. Holmes, because you are obligated to do so now. No getting out of it."

((Oh, thank you dear! Published the other ask, btw :) ))

“Of course,” Sherlock agreed, taking the box that North handed to him; of course he would sing for Jackson. “How old is he now? Twelve?”