The Guardians argued back and forth about the girl's sanity. Bunnymund and North both thought Jackie was crazy. Sandy and Toothiana supported her, saying she had just been through a traumatizing ordeal.

"Alright, alright! Enough about that, how did the Sheila turn blind?" Bunny smoothly changed the subject, the snowflake's sanity wasn't worth it. She was clearly mad, even if the others refused to admit it.

Sandy had an idea as to how that came to be, but nobody would look at him.

"Maybe she was already blind," the Tooth Fairy guessed.

The three argued back and forth, never realizing that Sandy hadn't had his own idea. He was the oldest, after all, he deserved some attention.

The Sandman rolled his eyes, here we go again. He waved a flag, tried to whistle, kicked the floor, punched the wall as hard as he could (didn't work), and even smashed a cup. Surprisingly, the last one didn't work either.

Maybe he should ring one of the elf's bell again? No, if breaking a cup didn't work, an elf's bell wouldn't either. A light bulb flashed above his head, and quickly left the globe room.

Sand trailed behind the golden figure as he hovered by the infirmary door. He politely knocked to let it's conscious and sane occupant know that he was coming in. Sandy wasn't surprised at the scene that lay before him. In fact, he expected it.

The small arctic fox was crouched in a fighting stance, his tail bushed out and his ears laid flat against his head. What surprised the Sandman was that Sol wasn't barking at him. Instead, his eyes showed wariness and - dare he think it? - trust, however frail it may be.

Sandy cautiously put his hands up and waved a white - er, golden? - flag to show he meant no harm. The glaring animal reluctantly relaxed and barked a question. Surprisingly, Sol was able to understand his sand figures and stalked out of the room. Sandy followed him cautiously.

It's dark. So dark. It shouldn't be this dark, right? And the voices. Voices in the dark usually mean Pitch. But this, this was different. They felt a little comforting... Maybe, just maybe, it's safe here.

Or not. Voices are bad. Words are mean. Words lead to touch. Touch hurts.

They sting. They make you feel like your soul is being ripped out. Like the very shadows of your being are consuming you. No. Touch is not good. Nope, nope nope.

Ooooh, look! The moon. The moon is so nice. the gentle glow, the way he watches over all.

And doesn't do a damn thing to help it.

He doesn't care about the creatures of the night, or day, for that matter. He abandons those he create. Those he rebirthed with no permission. How many times have fear and darkness driven me to begging like the pathetic little creature I am?

How many times will darkness obscure my vision?

I mean really, you'd think Pitch would've gotten tired of me by now. He was there for my rebirth. He was there those countless new moons. Heck, he was probably there when I died! If I could just meet him face-to-face (not that I want to), I want to know: why?

Why me? Why the runt of the spirit world? Why powerless, unknown, me?

The door opened slowly, creaking at the hinges. Sandy stepped into the bitterly cold room after Sol trotted in. The dog immediately broke into a run and catapult-hugged (as well as he could) his master. And began his accursed barking.

Sandy frowned at the fox's aggravation, then jumped in alarm at the dark sand hovering above the thrashing Jackie's head. He reacted quickly, dousing her in dreamsand, which only turned as dark as the grains already there. A stream of gold wandered off to fetch North. Figures appeared above his head as he tried to communicate to his 'nemesis' to hold her down. Solstice understood, setting himself across Jackie's torso and holding down her struggling arms, head licking her face. Sandy ropes took care of her legs.