Title: Second to Last and Rising
Rating: M
Fandom: Rise of the Guardians
Chapter(s): 4/?
Characters: Bunnymund, Original Female Character, Pooka, Jack Frost, North, Tooth, Sandy, Original Male Characters
Pairings: Bunnymund/Original Female Characters, North/Tooth
Synopsis: Kozmotis Pitchiner slaughtered all of the Pooka, except for one: E. Aster Bunnymund. It was a fact! Bunny had been around since Pangaea; surely he would have found another Pooka if there had been one! But when investigating seasonal disturbances, what will happen when Bunnymund finds another Pooka?
Tags: Character Death, Blood, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Pregnancy, Unplanned Pregnancy, Childbirth, Lactation, Male Lactation

3rd Person: ?'s

Oh no, oh no, oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no!

It was trapped ! Trapped like a rabbit in a hunter's snare! It was trapped ! Trapped trapped trapped trapped trappedtrappedtrapped!

Strong legs coiled like springs before releasing, and it leaped up high into the air, right hand scrabbling at the cliff face. Every claw-hold it found gave under its weight, and it crashed back to the ground with a howl of pain, a claw ripped free of its paw from snagging on the rock. It wasn't deterred, and leaped up once more, failing again and leaving a streak of blood.

Slower footsteps, more like a cross between an animal's and a human's, caused it to spin around. Sensing the presence of another Spirit nearing -the Pooka? Pitchiner? It? -, it pressed hard against the ground with its digitigrade paws, shoving its back up against the rough surface behind it. There was a soft utterance of a curse as two halves of a cracked rib shifted in place.

The other rounded the corner, and it wasn't sure whether or not to feel relieved when it saw that it was, in fact, the Pooka, who looked rather shocked to see it. His long ears, one floppy at the tip from some old wound, flattened back against his skull, accompanied by a startled hiss. The alien's eyes widened, and the hiss stopped as his mouth dropped slightly. His sides heaved, and those emerald eyes roved, running all over its body.

Otherwise, he didn't move.

It didn't either.

The other was the one to break the silence: "You're... a Pooka." It was more statement than question.

It spoke with a crackling, rasping voice. "Long as I can remember."

He nodded slowly, disbelieving.

Silence took over once more, the silence so awkward it wanted to stand up and walk away. Aster didn't want to make the first move for fear of scaring it. It didn't want to make the first move for fear of setting the other off.

Becoming uncertain from the silence, and wanting to know the Pooka's plan, it opened its mouth as though to speak. Something seemed to clench in its chest, shooting agony from ear to tail. Its eyes widened, and it began to let out a wet, rattling cough. Doubling over, its warped hand-paws clutched at its chest, which heaved with each desperate wheeze. Icy blood tumbled from its maw, splattering its already bloody fur with the translucent liquid.

The rabbit leaped into action, jumping to its side. "Whoa!" he placed a hand on its back, only to jerk back when it let out a moan of pain, jutting ribs shifting under his hand. "Damn," he muttered, trying to figure out how to help it without inflicting pain. Finally, he grabbed a flask off his bandolier and, when it gasped for air, pressed it to its lips. The water was gulped down greedily, helping calm down the fit.

Once it had regained control of its breathing, he spoke up: "You're hurt. I can treat you, but I don't have enough supplies on me. I'd need to take you back to my warren." He meant it as a question, but the Spirit was hurt badly enough that, if it said no, he'd have to forcibly take it there.

It turned tired, murky yellow eyes to him, and he thought that, for sure, the Pitch gold eyes had been a trick of the light. "Sure, go ahead." It sighed. It knew that it had no choice, and it didn't see the point in fighting back and getting further hurt.

The elder lifted his hind paw, tapping the ground twice. Another rabbit tunnel opened up, a breeze of warm air drifting out, smelling strongly of Spring; roses, tulips, freshly cut grass, and top-soil melding together into a lively medley. It moved as though to step forward, lifting a paw up and leaning forward. At the same time as the paw touched down, all the strength seemed to leave its body. Its muscles, which had been tightly wound so as to run away at a moments notice, went limp. With a sudden, forced exhale, it toppled to the ground lifelessly.