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North was honestly at a loss.
Pitch Black was standing impatiently outside the main entrance to the workshop, using his long, thin body to shield something wrapped in a tattered grey cloak from the wind and snow. "For all our sakes, you old bandit, open the door!" the Boogeyman snapped. North leaned a bit further out the window, trying to get a better look at what Pitch was holding. The wind howled and whipped viciously at Pitch and his burden, catching on the hood of the grey cloak long enough to reveal a head full of black hair and the nut brown, saturnine face of an unconscious woman. Pitch grabbed at the hood, pulling it back again and fighting to keep her bundled against the rising storm. "North!"
Reluctantly, North gestured to Phil, who grunted orders to the other yetis. The doors swung open with a tortured groan; they had been used rarely the past several decades. The yetis had their own ways in and out, and when North went out it was usually by sleigh or snow-globe. The yetis worked to keep the giant double doors free from ice, of course, but otherwise they were little more than a remnant of the days when the workshop had been surrounded by tiny Santoff Claussen.
He grabbed his swords and went down to greet his 'guests'.
"I need to take her to your greenhouse immediately," Pitch was explaining to one of the yetis with growing irritation. "She needs to be surrounded by growing things while she recovers."
North leveled a sword at Pitch as the yetis pushed the doors closed once more. "Not one step until you explain," he said softly, eyes flicking to the woman in his arms.
Pitch glared back at North, pushing back the grey hood to reveal the face the old man had briefly glimpsed. "This isn't my fault," he insisted quickly. "Her fear called to me. I found her being attacked by some upstart little spirit calling itself the Duke of Oil." Pitch sneered as he adjusted his hold so Mother Nature's head rested more comfortably on his shoulder. She stirred, but didn't wake. "I don't know about you, but I'm not particularly eager to find out what would happen to this world if someone should actually succeed in killing the old girl."
The yetis looked to North for orders, more than ready to take the opportunity to repay Pitch for everything he had done over the centuries. North pursed his lips and sheathed his swords, his eyes still on Mother Nature. There were some things that took precedence over even the most ancient enmity. "Take him to greenhouse," he ordered, "and prepare for guests."
Pitch paid North no mind as the yetis escorted him away. He had eyes only for the nature spirit he held so carefully in his arms.
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"Oh, this is gonna be good," Jack Frost muttered to Bunny as they both peered into the greenhouse. Thin arctic light filtered through the glass, bolstered by artificial lights to help the plants grow. The greenhouse didn't grow enough to keep North, the yetis, and the elves fed, but it often provided a much needed sanctuary from the constant mad rush of the workshop. Of all the nooks and crannies of North's home, it was probably Bunny's favorite place.
Pitch loomed like a great black vulture over the woman half buried at the base of an old lemon tree.
"Is that really Mother Nature?"
Bunny gave a slow nod, trying to see better without actually getting any closer. "Surprised you haven't spotted her before, Jackie. A great one for whipping up a winter storm at the worst possible time."
Jack shrugged noncommittally, craning his head to try and get a better look. Pitch caught his eye and curled his lip up in a sneer, moving to stand between Mother Nature and the Guardians. "Why would he be helping her?"
It was Bunny's turn to shrug. "Currying favor, probably. She's always been neutral in the fight between us and him, and a little too prone to sending hailstones where the sun don't shine whenever someone's tried to make her pick a side."
"Sounds like my kinda girl," Jack smirked. Pitch turned a sharp look on the youngest Guardian, which he promptly ignored.
Much harder to ignore was the gentle tug of dream sand ropes, pulling Jack and Bunny away from the greenhouse door. The Sandman shooed them both away, ignoring Jack's protests that he and Bunny were just trying to keep an eye on Pitch, and not letting up until they were well and truly gone.
"Not one word, Sandman," Pitch growled, turning his back on the bringer of dreams. He stooped to brush an errant lock of hair away from Mother Nature's forehead, and she turned into the touch without waking. The Sandman mimed zipping his lips closed, drifting to Pitch's side and working very hard not to grin. If the Boogeyman's glare was anything to go by, he wasn't entirely successful. "Her color's improving," Pitch went on softly. "Another week or so to purge the toxins and she'll be right as rain."
A sand bunny popped into existence over the Sandman's head, circled by tiny question marks.
Pitch snorted dismissively. "His warren is too easily breached. The so-called Duke of Oil waited until she began her purge to attack. I doubt he's going to stop trying to get at her until it's done." He cupped Mother Nature's cheek gently, putting his lips close to her ear. "But I'm going to find him, and when I come back I will bring you his head as a present. Won't that be grand?" His smile was fond as he ran a grey thumb over her cheekbone. "We shall put it up somewhere as a warning to all others -- stop smirking at me like that, Sandman."
The Sandman turned his most innocent look on Pitch, who remained unconvinced as he straightened up. "I suppose I must tell the rest of your merry little band just what is going on," he groused as he turned to leave. The Boogeyman paused for the moment, an unspoken request burning in his eyes, then swept away to deal with his most hated enemies turned reluctant allies. Golden sand fell on closed eyes, and Mother Nature sank more deeply into the good clean earth, and dreamed of an ancient garden and a father with a book full of stories to share with his beloved daughter.
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The Guardians took turns keeping watch over Mother Nature; after their first encounter with the surprisingly strong Duke of Oil, it had been agreed that it would be for the best if someone was with her, just in case.
Three days in, and it was Bunny's turn to baby-sit. That was the first time she woke up.
"whrami?"
Bunny put away the egg he had been painting and reached out to steady Mother Nature as she sat up, shaking off the dirt that had covered her like a blanket. "Easy there, sweetheart." Big grey eyes blinked in sleepy confusion at him. "You're in North's workshop. Pitch brought you here. Do you remember what happened?"
There was a moment as Mother Nature looked around, raking her hands through the thick black mass of her hair. "I was settling for the purge when-" The confusion cleared, and rage flashed across her face like lightning. "Oh, that obnoxious, oily little-! Some pollution spirit ambushed me!" She fought her way to her feet. "I'll have his -- oh..." Mother Nature swayed unsteady, and Bunny wrapped an arm around her to keep her upright. Her smile was almost apologetic in the seconds before she vomited down Bunny's chest.
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Pitch was positively cheerful as he explained, "She does this every century or so. Says it helps her deal with the way humans keep changing the environment. All the toxins and pollutants come right out, and she's refreshed and ready to get on with her duty. But for that week, the old girl's sick as a dog." He smiled as Bunny desperately scrubbed at his fur. The vomit was thick, oily, and clung tenaciously. "You might have to shave it off. On the up side, I believe I've found where the Duke of Oil is hiding himself..."
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"Why is Pitch helping you?"
Jack perched in the branches of the lemon tree, safely out of range of Mother Nature and her Puke of Doom. She'd proven to have a pretty impressive range during Tooth's last shift; the poor little fairies that had gotten too close were still trying to clean all the gunk from their feathers.
The old nature spirit cracked open a blood shot eye, then closed it again.
"If he doesn't feel that you need to know, then neither do I."
Jack snorted, hooking his legs over a branch and swinging upside down. Mother Nature glared at him a few moments more, then she rolled onto her side, pulling the ground after her like a blanket.
For once, Jack erred on the side of caution and didn't bring up that she had Pitch's nose.
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The head oozed horribly in Pitch's hand, black blood leaving behind smokey little holes where it fell. The only one who showed any appreciation for the horrible trophy was Mother Nature, who cooed with delight and announced that it was the best gift anyone had ever given her. Pitch ignored the puzzled looks from North, Bunny, and Tooth, and pretended not to see or understand the knowing expressions worn by the Sandman and Jack. As soon as Mother Nature was on her feet again, they would resume their natural position as enemies. There was no reason to spare them any thought beyond that.