Imagination Is Everything

Targets Locked. We're Not The Only Ones

I swung my arms as hard as I could, my fists making contact with the large bag of sand. Shoots of pain targeted my nerves as my knuckles started to sting from the amount of pressure I put in my punches. I kept going, my breathing going from the steady pace it had once been to a panting as I desperately tried to supply my lungs with the oxygen induced air.

I was pissed. No.

I was fucking pissed.

North had called an emergency meeting with the Northern lights. But since I hadn't officially become a Guardian yet, I didn't necessarily have to attend.

My mind kept drifting back to that particular day. The day they came to try to convince me to become a Guardian.

It wasn't like I didn't want to. I'd love nothing better.

I just didn't trust myself enough. I didn't think I was capable of protecting a child, let alone a whole planet-full of children.

After what happened in 1842, never.

I finally stopped my vigorous punching session, I ran outside for a refreshing dip in the lake. You have no idea how hard it is to get sweat completely out of your fur with just a towel and a mere shower.

I headed down to one of the many lakes in the spring part of my realm, Pureté, as I liked to call it. Purity, in French.

I jumped in, scrubbing myself to get rid of the sweat and the wafting odor out of my fur. Once done, I took a final dunk in the crystal clear water and stayed down there, enjoying the silence it had to offer. I stayed that way until my lungs had started to burn and crave for the oxygen that I needed.

I shot out of the water, whipping my head back as I gasped for air. Y'know, like they do in movies where the person emerges from the water, droplets flying everywhere as everything suddenly goes into slow-motion.

But once I opened my eyes, I was met with an animalistic figure standing before me.

It was Bunnymund. And he was alone.

His face didn't show much facial expression, the blank look he gave me could've saved him if I hadn't looked him dead in the eye.

And there it was, evident in his bright emerald coloured eyes, was the exact look of absent-mindedness. His eyes were clouded over, looking rather perplexed as I noticed the way his eyes seemed to trace over every inch of me.

"What 're ya doin' 'ere?" I snapped, bringing my mind back to reality, realizing that I had Bunnymund in my realm, after two and a half months ever since the last time I saw him and the rest of the Guardians.