Catherine shouldered her back-back and walked across her school's parking lot. No friends walked with her like the other girls from her school. Not that she even wanted any of them as friends. They were all the same: Long hair, pretty cloths, makeup, and no appreciation for literature. Cat didn't like makeup. It just didn't make her already striking features look at all pretty. She always kept her somewhat wavy jet black hair just below shoulder length. Even these subtle differences kept the other shallow girls away. Not only that, but Cat loved reading and archery, while the other girls couldn't care less about books or the ancient art of bow-and-arrow. So there she was, a fourteen year-old girl walking home by herself. Having walked the five blocks for the past two years, Cat just let her legs do the work while her mind drifted off. Once again, that memory resurfaced. She had been nine years old on the day Cat first saw the boy. It was winter and she was sitting on a park bench in front of the small lake. He had silvery white hair and silver icy-blue eyes. The boy was wearing the oddest combination of a dark blue hoodie and leather pants. Along with that, he'd had this awesome staff with a hooked end. A group of kids just older than her were having a snow ball fight, and although the boy was much older than them, looked like he had started it. However, none of the ids noticed him. By the time the kid with the blue hat had gone sliding off on his toboggan with weird boy flying in tow, Cat was certain that something magical was involved here. Later, when the kids moved off, Cat saw what steeled her decision. The boy with the blue hat walked right through the white haired guy, who looked angry and upset. It promptly began to snow.

Catherine walked through the front door and into her small house. No one greeted her. Her father was probably in his study and Cat had no mother or siblings. She ran upstairs to her bedroom. Dropping her back-pack onto her blue quilted bed, Cat quickly changed into a white fleece hoodie and a pair of black skinny jeans. Grabbing her bow and arrows, Cat opened her big set of windows into the cold air. She proceeded to climb onto the lower portion of the roof, and then let down the hidden rope ladder she always kept up here. After getting off the snowy roof and onto the lawn, Cat rolled up the ladder, attached it to one of her arrows, and shot it back up to its former spot. Cat grabbed her old bike, and made off for the park.

Catherine narrowed her turquoise eyes at the distant sapling. It was much harder to hit the thin, newly planted trees than one of the tall and wide pines. Unlike all modern-day bows, Catherine's bow was not plastic. It was made of an exquisite dark wood that while slightly bendable, was strong and perfect for Cat. Just as she let the arrow fly, yet another cold gust of wind through the arrow off course. That was seventh time. The cold never bothered Catherine. In fact, she embraced it. When it was this chilly, no one liked to come to the park. She could be alone with her thoughts and her arrows. But really, weird stuff was happening here. It might have happened every winter, but Cat had never noticed it 'till now. When she had gotten to the park, she lent her bike against a tree, and gone to check out the weird ice patterns on the frozen surface of the small lake. She was certain ice didn't naturally form those designs. She had gone back to her bike to lock it, but found there was no need. The rusting metal had completely frozen to the tree. Maybe if it had rained overnight, then frozen over the next morning, that would make sense, but in six minutes? Something weird was going on. That coupled by the cold gusts every time she let loose n arrow, Cat was a little bit freaked. As she worked on freeing her bike from the tree, she could have sworn she heard a boyish laughter mocking her attempts at the bike. Cat gave one last fierce tug on the bike, and ice that had welded it into place suddenly vanished. She fell back, and the bike toppled on top of her.

"Stupid fucking…" she muttered. Again, that odd laughter. Catherine glanced around, frowning. She thought for a second that she might have seen the flash of dark blue cloth in the trees, but she shook her head and rubbed her bruised shins. After peddling home, Cat locked her bike, and then climbed up to her bedroom window. Climbing up the side of the house and onto the roof was much easier than climbing down. Once inside, Cat kicked off her runners, and plopped onto her bed with a new library book. Fridays was her favourite day of the week, not just because it was the last day of the week. Her father would go to work in a few minutes, and he had a late shift. Cat would make a nice dinner for herself (not bothering to make enough for her father also, since he didn't so much as say good bye to her when he left), get the old fire place going, and then escape into a fictional world where there was almost always a happy ending. Cat must have dosed off, because the next thing she knew was that her room was dark and she was hungry.

"Crud, what time is it?" she said to herself. Looking at her alarm clock, it said 9:37. Sighing, Cat got up and went downstairs, figuring it was too late to make a nice dinner. She heated up a bowl of soup and sat down at the small kitchen table. She hated her father, and she was pretty sure he hated her. He certainly didn't love her. She zoned out, thinking about the upcoming holidays. She had enough saved money to treat herself to a gift this year. Her father wouldn't but her anything, and it wasn't like she had any friends to exchange gifts with. The image of a fat man in a red and white suite came to mind. Yeah right she thought. But once again, a distant memory came to mind. She was four years old, a time when her mother lived and her father actually showed some affection toward Catherine. She had woken from a pleasant golden dream, and with all the excitement of a four year old on Christmas morning, hopped out of bed and prepared to race downstairs to the Christmas tree. But then, a small box covered in brightly coloured raping paper caught her eye. It sat on the foot of her bed. She walked back to her bed and examined this new arrival. She picked it up and looked at the tag. A pretty thing it had been, gold coloured and trimmed in red. Bold letters had printed her name on it. It did not state who it was from. Catherine carefully the small box, still clad with the fancy paper. Upon opening it, Catherine gazed at the small figure inside. It was a statuette of a woman in silver-shining tunic with black curly hair. She seemed to be running on air with a silver bow drawn in front of her. Catherine knew now from her Ancient History classes that the little statue was of Artemis, the ancient Greek goddess of the hunt and of the moon. Catherine realised her soup had gone cold. She was no longer hungry anyways. Grabbing a pair of boots and a warmer sweater, Catherine went for a walk back to the park. Cat stuffed her hands into her pockets and sat down on the bench. The sky was relatively clear tonight, and Cat could see the full moon. She closed her eyes and breathed in the cold and fresh night air. Cat opened her eyes again. There, on the opposite end of the bench sat that boy. She stopped breathing for a couple moments. His silver and white hair gleamed in the moonlight. Those stunning icy-blue eyes stared at the bright moon, making them look as if they were made of liquid silver. He still wore that same blue hoodie and the worn leather pants. He was barefooted as before, staff leaning on his shoulder. Suddenly, he looked at her, and he seemed a bit confused.

"You can see me?" he asked. Cat noticed her mouth was starting to fall open, and she closed it, nodding slightly.

"I figured only kids could see me these days," he said, also starring at her. A thought came to mind as she looked at his beautiful face. Ignoring what he had just said, Cat narrowed her eyes at him.

"It was you," I said with absolute certainty. "Asshole, you iced my bike to that tree," she said. He quirked his mouth to once side, then smiled.

"Guilty," he said, a hint of laugh in his voice.

"And my arrows…" she said, thinking back to that afternoon.

"Yep, that was me," the boy said, still smiling. His teeth were so white… like freshly fallen snow. Now where did that analogy come from? Catherine thought. Finally, Cat said, "Who are you?" To which the boy replied, "None other than the famous Jack Frost of course."

"No way… But… Wait," Catherine's mind was moving way too fast for her. Memories of many winters, good and bad, came to mind.

"Is this where you live then?" she said at last.

"Pretty much. This was where…" he trailed off. Cat would have pursued it, but Jack was staring at a spot on the small lake, looking distant.

"Why did you ask me if I could see," Catherine said after a while. Not taking his eyes of the lake, Jack said, "For the past three hundred years, no one's been able to see, hear or even touch me. Except the other guardians. Mostly I just messed with 'em. But after three hundred years, the Man in the Moon decided to make me a guardian. After the other guardians and I had defeated Pitch Black a few years ago, all the kids that believe in the other guardians started to believe in me as well. So really, only kids know about me. Adults and teenagers? Not so much. People start to forget about the guardians when they get older." Jack said all this calmly, without pause. Catherine stared at her shoes for a while, thinking of all the questions she wanted to ask Jack.

"Who are the guardians?" Catherine said at last.

"Who are the….? 'Come on, don't you know about Santa Claus? The Toothfairy? What about the Easter Bunny or the Sandman?" Jack said. Catherine gave him a puzzled look and said, "But those are all myths. For kids. I've never gotten a gift from Santa or an egg from the Easter bunny, or so much as a quarter under my pillow."

"Have you ever had really good dreams?" Jack said, looking at Cat calmly.

"I… Yeah, but… Oh," Catherine stopped and looked at Jack curiously.

"Only those children who believe in the Guardians receive things like eggs on Easter, gifts at Christmas, or a quarter under their pillow when they lose a tooth. The Sandman is a different case. He gives all children good dreams," Jack explained. Suddenly, Jack looked back up at the moon.

"Look, I have to go now. Guardian business," he said with a smile. Jack stood on top of the bench. He glanced down at Cat again and said, "Hey, I told you my name, but you never gave me yours." Catherine smiled up at him.

"Catherine Talvi. But you can call me Cat," she said. Jack Frost looked to the left, and then a strong wind buffeted Cat, while Jack Frost flew towards the night sky, white hair shining. As Cat walked through her front door, she wondered about all the happiness she had not experienced, because of her oppressive father. Cat walked to the kitchen and dumped her soup.