I saw the moon first. It was large and full, dominating the night sky. The bright moonlight washed over me in a calming wave after I was lifted from the lake. I hadn't thought much of it then, discovering and revelling in my powers. It was just the moon. Days later, back at my lake where no one would pass through me, I stared up at it, clutching my staff. That's when I heard the voice.

"Jack Frost."

Was that my name? I didn't know if it came from the moon or the shadows or was spoken straight into my head. Was there someone up there? A Man in the Moon?

If there was, I decided to ignore him. I knew, how I don't remember, that the Man in the Moon had been banished there for breaking the Sabbath. I went to church even if no one could see me. I thought maybe I was a ghost. I couldn't remember being anyone else, but I looked like a man so I was sure I had a soul. I felt like I had a soul. One day I might be judged and given a chance at salvation. So I did my best to keep my thoughts busy and be good. Except for the magic. I hoped it wouldn't be confused for witchcraft, because it was the one joy that I had. I couldn't see how something so amazing could be bad and I wasn't giving it up. Not for anything.

The Wind had been with me almost since the beginning. That first whirlwind leap into the sky had been joyful and freeing. The force of nature that nipped at my heels and came when I called was more like a trusty horse than anything else I could think of. The Wind never spoke. Sometimes, I thought we understood each other and that maybe he or she was trying to be more. Other times it was clear that the Wind was a force, one that answered to my call but wasn't aware. Wind had never chosen to save me from a fall and wouldn't respond to me if I didn't have my staff in hand. I had discovered both of those things painfully.

So I learned to ride the Wind like riding a horse, and if I was occasionally bucked off I didn't hold a grudge.

I returned to my lake each time I went exploring. I was still mastering how to ride the Wind, which was harder when air currents changed and fell pretty often. That meant that I needed to stay low and away from large bodies of water. As the seasons changed, the heat made me sleepy and I found caves or old mines to hibernate in. I hated it.

I cautiously began to move north in summer, hoping to escape the increasing warmth. It was too uncomfortable to stay awake otherwise. I ventured away from the colonies for the first time, stopping for a while in Quebec City, though I couldn't understand them any more than they could see me. It was a bittersweet sort of fun to incite snowball fights there with the last of the melting snow. Eventually, summer continued to spread its influence and I went even further north. There were people there too, though they were harder to find and not like any I'd ever seen. People who lived in snow and ice, living off animals I'd hardly imagined existed. They made these ice block houses to keep the warmth in. I'd tried one myself, but instead of feeling safe and protected, I only felt trapped.

I wandered this way for decades and no one ever saw me.

One night I decided to stop torturing myself with the presence of other people, if I was even a person really. Sometimes I doubted that. I was making my way south as the seasons changed, stopping here and there. Lying back on a lightly frosted hill, I stared up at the clear night sky and saw a shooting star. Then I bolted upright.

Not a star.

There was a boy shooting across the sky, a trail of light blazing behind him, wielding a staff like me. He was gone in an instant before my shock had faded. I cursed myself for not getting up and flying after him. He couldn't have been a normal person. He looked like he was made for light the same way I was made for snow. Maybe he would have seen me? I stared in the direction he had gone and was torn because flying after him would mean flying down the river towards the ocean and there was no way I could cross that. Maybe he'd come back?

I waited on that hill, a few hours north of the French settlements, and watched the sky for two weeks before I gave up and returned to my lake.

It had been a century since that night at my lake, rising from the ice. A hundred years had passed with people and places changing, and I had changed too. I wasn't sure if I believed in God anymore. Shouldn't something have happened to me by now? Heaven or Hell or… something? Maybe I wasn't a ghost at all and had been born from the ice that winter night?

So I tried to talk to the Man in the Moon, thinking he might be the reason I was here. Sometimes those first few days were blurry in my memory. He'd named me, hadn't he? I told him about my travels, what I'd learned to do with the powers that came with my staff, the new settlements that were springing up, and more. I'd only been trying a few weeks, hoping desperately for a reply when I saw a glittering cloud of sand streak up into the sky. It startled me from my perch – a short golden man, the thin boy of light and a young girl rocketing upwards. It had all happened so quickly and so close too! I longed to know what was going on. I still looked for the boy of light when I travelled. I hadn't expected him here.

How had I missed that?

They left no trail and by the time I discovered where they had flown from, nothing was left but a dreadful dark cave with creeping shadows.

A long time later, I saw the same glimmering golden sand again twisting and looping across the night sky. Every night it appeared. It took a while for me to work up the nerve to touch the sand, but when I did it was wonderful! The glittering grains burst to life and danced around me. The first time it was a playful hound, the next a flurry of butterflies.

I thought about meeting the golden sandman that must be at the source of it. I saw him a few times. I don't think he noticed me. He didn't react anyway. He always looked either tired and dreamy or focused and intent. The boy of light and the other girl I never saw again.

I'd been alone and unseen for ages. Maybe I was being punished? Was that why the Man in the Moon never answered me? I wanted to see if the Sandman was like me, if he'd heard the Man in the Moon too, but every time I tried I got this terrible sensation. I'd feel a rush of cold panic and the Wind would falter underneath me. So I didn't. Eventually, I stopped talking to the Man in the Moon too. Hoping for a voice that never came hurt too much.

At least when I talked to people, they weren't ignoring me on purpose.

I did find that playing with people, mostly children, helped. They didn't have a lot of time for it, being busy with chores, but with a little effort here and there I could bring smiles to what was otherwise drudgework. Not all of them were treated very well either, especially in the mines.

They were horrible. When it started to get warmer, I sheltered in the deeper mines for as long as possible, doing what I could to clear the air, soothe burns and freeze out fires before they began. Some of the boys were so small. It wasn't fair.

In the cities, I would find children freezing to death in the cold. There wasn't anything I could do to warm them up and the few times I'd been able to bring the attention of grown-ups gained no help. I stopped feeling bad about icing the walkways just to see them fall. For the children, I learned to make moving pictures out of the frost and snow. It was a lot of work, and nowhere near as good as the golden sand creatures, but they could see them even if they couldn't see me. Sometimes, I could get them to smile, just a little, before they went to sleep and never woke up.

When I discovered that Santa Claus might be real, I knew that he must be magical, something more than a regular person to do everything that they said he did. Maybe he'd be able to see me? I flew on the wind as far north as I could. It was the farthest I'd ever been and I was too excited to be scared.

I didn't think Santa's Workshop would be that hard to find, but it took me weeks. The wind kept shying away from one icy peak until I realized what was happening and forced my way there. It was more than I had imagined. Huge and built into the side of an icy mountain, I flew around looking for signs of life, admiring the domed roof and the glittering icicles that cascaded down around the building. Going closer, I thought about peering in the windows and decided against it. I wanted to do this properly.

I wasn't sure what to expect when I discovered a door and knocked. I should have gotten better clothing. The ones I wore were nearly rags and needed to be replaced, the pants and shirt almost threadbare and frayed at the hems. I probably looked a bit wild.

When the door was flung open I gasped. A huge monstrous thing stood in the entranceway, glaring down at me. He (she?) half yelled half roared some inhuman sound and slammed the door in my face. Once I got over my shock, I pounded on the wood again. I hadn't even gotten a chance to say anything! It was a thick heavy door and barely vibrated when I hit it. So I rode the wind up to a window and tapped there. That only got me more yelling and shooing away.

I wasn't going to give up though. They had seen me! I thought if I went and changed, made myself look more respectable, maybe they'd at least hear me out. So I left and returned a few weeks later. I didn't think I'd be too much of a bother. It wasn't close to Christmas yet. I'd found new pants and suspenders, a clean white button-down shirt, even a jacket. Couldn't do much about my hair, but I thought I looked pretty good.

The monsters didn't agree. They were as angry as ever, more maybe. I don't know why - I hadn't done anything! They'd block me and fight me and send me off, but they never tried to actually hurt me even though I was certain that they could.

After a while, it was almost a game. It was definitely the most interaction I'd ever gotten with anyone. I caught a few glimpses of Santa, but he didn't see me. The yeti kept me away from him. Santa's booming voice carried though and I learned a lot from eavesdropping - the list, the sleigh, the yeti and elves… It was wondrous.

Getting inside became an ongoing challenge, almost fun. The yeti at the front of it all, Phil they called him, was always cursing me in their burbling language. There was no understanding it. Santa had spoken both English and Russian, however, so I took the long journey through the Arctic into Northern Europe and Russia for the first time. Learning Russian greetings didn't get me any further. Still, even the few times that they actually physically caught me, which was both thrilling and terrifying because no one ever touched me, they didn't hurt me. I just got thrown down the mountain, sliding down the snow, my staff tumbling down with me.

It was fun for a while until the novelty of being touched wore off and I started to resent them. I just wanted to talk to someone. What was so wrong with me? So I started pestering them more in the hopes that Santa would come and rage at me himself.

It didn't work.

I figured that if Santa Claus exists, maybe others do too. The yetis had seen me, even if they had been angry, so if I found another spirit or myth and was on my best behaviour…

Once I started looking, I could see the little Tooth Fairies flitting around and I knew they could see me too. Their tiny flittering wings were fast and they were always busy. I never saw one stop moving, except once. I'd figured out that teeth were their favourite things, given how they clutched them and had no other interests. So when a tooth fairy had gone zipping by, I'd smiled wide and she'd stopped dead. That's when I finally got a good look at one. She was small and shimmery - iridescent was the word. Her feathers were vivid green and blue. It was only a moment before she shivered and sighed, blushing and flying off into the night.

Odd.

They wouldn't come near me most of the time. When I tried to follow them, they ducked and dove and fled. It was as though they were a little afraid and a little awed at the same time. I wished I knew what I was doing wrong.

I'd been using my powers more and travelling. Frosting over windows and icing ponds, I'd whipped up flurries here and there and had a little fun. I'd even been learning a few other languages –Norwegian, Swedish, Danish… I'd long ago picked up French, German was easy and my Russian was definitely improving. Finnish was still giving me some trouble.

Children didn't work as much anymore. Instead, they were trapped in schools all day, sitting nicely and enduring endless boredom. I'd tried it once. Still, even with the boredom and the possibility of getting a ruler or smack for misbehaving, it was better than work. The best thing about the schools though, was that if there was too much snow from the night before they had to close and the children got to spend the whole day playing in the snow! I could skip from town to town, bringing snow and days off, and the adults would think it was just a moving storm. I had to be careful though or people could get hurt, so I practiced away from the cities first.

I'd finally gotten a snow day exactly right. There was just enough to close the schools but not enough to really cause any big problems; even the temperature wasn't that cold. It was fantastic! The snow was perfect for snowball fights and fort building. I'd even made sure the hills were packed and shaped for sledding to keep the kids from slamming into any trees that lined the slopes.

It was Easter in a few days though. I'd have to slow things down so the egg hunts wouldn't be affected. I didn't want to make a bad impression. Maybe this year I'd see him? I still couldn't figure out exactly how the Easter Bunny got around. I eased up on the snowfall and rested in a tree, not feeling too bad about all the shovelling. It was just a day or two. Exercise was good, right?

Early in the dark of Easter morning, I noticed the snow starting to fall heavily again. Something was wrong. I took to the sky, doing my best to grab hold of the winter weather and direct it to disperse. It didn't listen to me. Instead, the reins of the storms slipped through my fingers like fog. No matter how much energy I poured into it, trying to tie it down or break it apart, the storm kept building. I started to get a bit frantic. It was getting dangerous.

"Oi! What the hell are ya doin'?" An angry voice demanded.

Wow. It was him - The Easter Bunny. Tall and grey, his fur had some kind of black markings and he was a lot bigger than I'd expected. Fiercer too, because he looked like he'd slug me one if I wasn't so high up in the air. I wanted to drop out of the sky and introduce myself, explain what was happening, but if I let go-

"Ya need ta stop. It's Easter! There'll be kiddies out." He'd bellowed over the howling wind.

"I'm trying!" I screamed down at him, but I wasn't sure he heard me. Nothing was working!

I could see him pacing below, muttering to himself. Trying to hold back the storm hurt and I was losing my grip. I could do this, I had done it before up north. Why did everything go wrong for me?

Suddenly something swooshed past me, just missing in the violent wind. Not a few seconds later it came back, slamming into the palm of its owner below. The Easter Bunny threw it again and then I had to duck. The wind shoved me into its return path and bam! My staff was knocked from my fingers and I plummeted into the snow bank below.

The storm began to break up then, but the damage was done. It had created a lot more than a snow day's worth of winter. I half expected to be dragged out of the snow and punched in the face. I struggled up. When I stood to approach him I had to jump out of the way of his flying things again. Boomerangs?

"Reckless winter brat." He growled at me and tapped the ground with his foot, opening a rabbit hole in the ground.

"Jack Frost." I gasped out my name, ducking the return of his weapons. "I'm Jack Frost. I didn't mean-"

"Keep yer trickery up north and away from the humans, ya bloody little ice imp." He didn't wait for me to reply before vanishing down the hole that shut behind him.

No! I wanted to scream. Dammit. Why can't I get this right?

I didn't know what went wrong, but I wasn't going to let people get hurt. After I found my staff, I surveyed the damage. The biggest problem, after the power outages that I couldn't do anything about, was all the fluffy snow being blown around by the wind creating dangerous whiteouts. The Wind blew hard with me to move as much snow as I could out of the way, and we cleared the worst from the roads and around the houses. Then I froze it down solid in yards and open lots. Several cities had been affected by the blizzard I'd created, so I stayed out for a long time doing what I could and collapsed hard afterwards.

I didn't think anyone had been seriously hurt or had died, but I was too afraid to check, so I curled up in a tree by my lake. Easter had certainly been ruined for this part of the world. The Easter Bunny had every right to be angry and boy he'd been mad.

I'd really wanted to meet him. Didn't look like a little cold had bothered him too much. It'd be nice to have a friend. He'd seen me and knocked me out of the sky but he hadn't taken the time to pound me after. That was a good sign, wasn't it? If I could get him to talk to me just once…

I'd apologize. I'd grovel. I'd make him understand that it was an accident and not entirely my fault, even if I didn't know exactly what had happened. I'd make it up to him somehow.

It was probably too much to hope for.

I decided that I'd try one more time to see him again. I hadn't gotten that good a look at him through all the swirling snow, after all. And if I was lucky, he might even stay still long enough to listen to my apology.

Next year.

I hadn't known what to expect from Pitch Black, hadn't even thought that the Boogeyman existed. His Nightmares were horrible, trapping the poor little fairies that were suddenly my biggest fans, and yet Pitch was only antagonizing the Guardians and talking about wanting to be believed in. Just like me.

His comment about being ignored was a sharp dig, but no more than what Bunny had said earlier at the Workshop and that had hurt far worse. But it was Bunny and when Pitch descended into his supervillain monologue all I heard was that he wanted Bunny to die.

Any sympathy I could ever have given him vanished in that instant.

When I stood by the lagoon after Pitch had fled, my thoughts were clear. Yeah, maybe I was taking advantage of Bunny, but he was the closest thing to a friend that I had and the Warren was my home too. I knew I wasn't Guardian material, best to crush that hope right off, but I wasn't about to back down from Pitch's threat. I could help. I'd help and I'd make up for '68 and then Bunny would hear me out about the winter burrow. Maybe we'd even get to be friends.

I could only hope.