The moon dies every morning only to let the sun breathe. I've never seen such love and harmony in two bodies before, I've always wondered what it would be like… to have a lover that would die for you if only to let you shine a little brighter. The moon was always something that fascinated me, shining so bright only from the reflection of it's counterpart, but shining bright all the same. It was beautiful. It saved me. The moon that I adored so much was the same moon that breathed life into me when I had lost the ability to breathe my own air, push my own lungs; bring life into my own body. Cystic Fibrosis is a disease that tears you apart from the inside, starting at your lungs and hitting them hard before spreading through the rest of your body to wreak havoc on your insides. Most of those diagnosed with it only live to see their twenties, and it's not uncommon for children to die in their youth. Cystic Fibrosis steals you from the world during the most important years of your life- the years you're supposed to spend having fun, full of wonder without a care in the world. Your childhood. It changes every experience that's meant to highlight your youthfulness. Christmases are spent in the hospital, hooked up to a machine to help pump your lungs a little hard- keep you going for a bit longer. There's no Christmas tree, no chimney for Santa to come down, no staying up all night just to catch a glimpse of the old man. No, you're too weak for that. Hunting for Easter eggs on Easter? Not when you can barely keep up with your friends because running stings your lungs and cripples you until your parents run out with your inhaler to help your breathing ease. A vicious disease that tore me apart until my last breath stole my childhood from me. The moon saved me as my last breath escaped my weak body, almost nothing but skin and bones by the time I was taken from the world. I owe the moon everything I have now, because it was he who gave me the body capable of keeping up with the wind, something I could never do as a child- keep up. Everyone around me was moving at a faster pace, accomplishing more; living more. Now, I am the wind. I am freedom, and joy, and lightheartedness. I am Spring, and the new breath brought to the world by the Spring winds, I am the crisp autumn air throwing leaves into the air, I am the winter wind blowing the hat off of your head as you make snow angels, and I am the cool summer breeze as you jump into the pool with that wide grin on your face, eyes full of joy. My name is Tate, and I am the Spirit of the Wind, I am alive again, and I will make the most of the life the moon has given me.

"Wind, take me home!" I frown when I hear the boy yelling from the rooftop. Jack Frost, the Guardian of Fun, the nip on your nose, the harsh cold that freezes you to the bone and sends shivers down your spine. Jack was close with the previous wind spirit, working as a team to bring him wherever he asked so that he could deliver a little chill to any area he wanted to. But it was different now. I am the wind, no one controls me. I am a free spirit to do as I please. "Come again?" My feet land hard on the rooftop in front of Jack, and he quickly snaps his attention to the new figure standing in front of him. He smiles, and I feel my insides churn. There's something about Jack Frost that sets me off in the worst way. He was always smiling; nothing was ever serious to him. The Guardian of Fun didn't seem to have much else on his mind besides having a good time. How naïve. How naïve to believe fun was something every child experienced, and how naïve of him to believe even for a second that he could control the joy experienced by children. All I can ever think of when I look at him is the memories of my winters, not being able to play outside with my friends because the air was too cold, too dry, and too rough on my failing lungs and weak body. Jack Frost was a poison I could never breathe in, and I'll be damned if I give him the time of day now. Jack stands gracefully, hopping up onto his feet and grinning at me as he reaches out his hand, expecting me to take it. Instead, I cross my arms over my chest and frown at him. He laughs and shoves his hand back into his pocket, his eyes sparkling as he speaks. "My name is Jack Frost. And who might you be? Judging from your looks, you must be a spirit as well. It's nice to meet you." As I run my hands through my hair smoothing it back into place, I shake my head and grimace at the boy standing in front of me, and his smile fades immediately. "I know who you are, Jack. Because really, who are you without me to lift you up and carry you to wherever you need to be?" Jack steps back to look me up and down, the corner of his lips lifting a bit as he realizes who he's talking to. "There's a new wind spirit, isn't there? Manny chose you." I grin and shrug, pushing my hands into the pockets of my jacket. "I guess so. But I was never told I would have to work so closely with... you."

The last word stung Jack, it had been a while since someone had looked down on him the way that Tate was. It reminded him of when he first met the big three, having to prove to them that he wasn't all games and tricks. He looked Tate up and down, taking in every detail of the new spirit. He was taller than Jack, and seemed a little older than him- physically, at least. He wore a long jacket covered in patches of different patterns and colors, none of which matched the black scarf hanging lazily around his neck. His expression was nothing but distaste, his piercing blue eyes looking tired and bored with the whole situation. Jack's heart fluttered a little as he realized just how piercing Tate's eyes were, only amplified by the shimmering blue markings branching off from his eyes and towards his auburn hair, which was pushed back and spiked as if the boy had been stuck in a wind tunnel. Jack laughed to himself; of course, it would only make sense that the boy looked like he lived his life inside a gust of wind- because that's where his new life was going to be spent. Just as Manny had turned Jack's hair snow white, he had changed Tate's features to characterize the very element he was controlling. "I don't see what's so funny, Jack. You're stranded here with no way home." Jack sighed and looked back up at the spirit in front of him. "Look, Tate. You don't have to like me. But you have to bring me home. If you don't, Manny won't be very happy with you. Might even lose your precious newfound powers." Tate frowned, stepping closer to Jack so that he could almost feel the cold of the boy's skin. "Jack Frost, I never enjoyed you, even in my life before this. I will take you home, but only because the moon has entrusted me with the job of being the spirit of the wind, and I take pride in knowing you'd be stranded if it weren't for me." Jack laughed, picking up his staff and placing his hand on the elder boy's shoulder, looking him in the eyes, feeling him shudder under his ice-cold touch. "Lighten up, Tate. You're the wind, aren't you supposed to be cheerful and free and lighthearted? I miss your predecessor; he knew what it was like to have a little fun. Now, let's g—" Before Jack cold finish his sentence, Tate flicked his wrist and he was off, the harsh winds whipping at his face and pushing him forward with more force than grace. Jack cursed at Tate in his head, bracing himself for the hard impact he knew was soon to come from the spirit's winds. This was going to be a tough relationship to build.