Rise Of The Guardians - The Life Of A Spirit

The Desert

One of the things that most people didn't realise about the desert was that when night fell, the temperatures did the same. Where the heat was the biggest danger during the day, the cold became just as deadly when the stars flickered into existence. It was perfect for him.

Jack drifted sedately on an icy breeze, lying back and staring up at those millions of stars glittering above him. Below him, miles upon miles of sand dunes rose and fell like waves on the ocean frozen in place. Apart from the occasional cry of an owl hunting by the light of the moon there was no other sound. Solitary and still.

It was a welcome reprieve from recent times. More and more often he had been afflicted with terrifyingly realistic nightmares that left him shaking with fear and drenched in sweat. To combat these, he had been busying himself as much as he could, spending every waking moment fulfilling his roles as both Guardian and Spirit, hoping that the exertion would exhaust him enough to send him to dreamless sleeps. So far he had been partially successful.

Despite enjoying the rare moment of calm, he knew he could only be here for a limited time. As soon as dawn started to appear on the horizon, he was forced to make himself scarce. If the heat didn't get to him, then Alsayf definitely would. And those two things were practically the same.

He sighed and glanced up at the waxing moon which, as always, was silent as it shed its silver light on the world below.

'I don't suppose you have any advice?' he muttered and was unsurprised at the lack of an answer.

He could seek out Sandy, but he suspected that the nightmares were just a result of the recent events he had dealt with. Which was understandable to say the least. He definitely needed a few decades to relax after the whole debacle with Jokul. The former Winter Spirit did feature prominently in some of the earlier nightmares.

But that threat was over now. The world was safe, and more importantly, the people. The other Spirits had finally accepted him into their ranks after three centuries, and the Guardians were just relieved that he had finally found the proper balance between his two roles. He now had to figure out how to relax enough to make the nightmares stop.

A shout split the air, so abrupt that Jack almost fell through the wind that was supporting him. He sat up, looking around but, of course, there were no other spirits about. The winter spirits wouldn't dare come to the heart of Alsayf's domain, and the it was too cold right now for the summer spirits to be present.

Another, different, shout sounded, distant, but Jack could pick up on the anger that filled the words. It had come from a little way to his right and, his curiosity now surging, he carefully starting flying in that direction, ready for anything that could be waiting for him.

But passing over one final dune brought him close enough to see three people seemingly arguing amongst themselves.

He stopped, staring in surprise. He had assumed no one was out here. How in the world did these three get here?

He cautiously descended, examining them closely. They wore the typical many-layered robes that most people in these climates wore, as well as a headdress with scarves covering their faces. They were arguing in a language that Jack hadn't heard before, which in itself was surprising seeing as he had taken it upon himself to learn as many languages as he could. But given the area he was in, it made sense. He rarely spent more than a day in regions that got as hot as these. But it was clear that these people were upset and he suspected it had something to do with why they were out here, alone.

He drifted closer, but without knowing their language, he was oblivious to what they were saying and he considered calling Alsayf, if only to translate.