Chapter 1: The Lake

Jack Frost did not go looking for trouble, despite Bunnymunds insistence that he was a mayhem magnet. In fact, the winter spirit would rather stay far away from trouble, if it was possible. After battling Pitch, losing his staff, and getting believers, he wanted a nice, long vacation from trouble. Perhaps in Antarctica. He liked Antarctica – the penguins were always good for a laugh. Especially the odd group of Emperors who would tap dance when they saw humans around. As long as he stayed away from the spot where the black-sand-ice-sculpture stood, he would be fine.

But it was winter in the Northern Hemisphere, and they were due for a good dose of snow, so the vacation would have to wait. He spent his Sunday brewing up a storm along the northern border of the United States, and buried half of Montana in four feet of snow. Southern Canada got a light dusting as well, and an irate moose snorted at Jack as he flew past, shaking snow from his antlers and stamping his hooves in annoyance. Jack laughed in response, spiraling into the air and coasting Eastward on the wind currents. Releasing snow was just as good as a vacation, he supposed, at least for the moment. Laying back, he folded his hands behind his head and crossed his ankles, drifting in the wind like it was a hammock. Soft gray clouds bursting with snow flurries followed, hanging back over towns and cities to douse them in white. In what seemed like no time (but was actually several hours, since he wasn't in a hurry) the wind slowed and circled around his town.

It was nearing dark – nearly five, if he was judging the position of the sun right – and lights around town were flicking on. Jamie and Sophie would be at home by now, getting ready for dinner with their parents. He drifted past their house, catching a quick peek through the window. Mrs. Bennet was pulling a pot roast out of a crock-pot and slicing it neatly on a serving plate. Mr. Bennet was going over Jamie's homework, explaining a complicated algebra problem to the nine year old. Sophie was sitting on the floor of the living room, playing with a stuffed bunny rabbit and a plush sheep. She looked up at he passed and squealed at him. He waved, drew a bunny in frost on the window, then drifted away as Mrs. Bennet called them all together for dinner.

Not for the first time, Jack wondered what it would be like to have a home. Oh, he had Santoff Claussen, and the Warren and Tooth Palace, and Sandy had even invited him to stay at his castle on the Island of Sleepy Sands when he had time. It was nice to visit at times; each of the Guardians had created a guest room for him, complete with snow drifts and windows for the breeze to sweep through. North had even recreated some of the toys he had played with as a child, but he left them at the workshop so the snow wouldn't damage them.

Perhaps it wasn't the building he missed so much, but the people. The Guardians got together once a month for a meeting. He visited the others more often that that – after three hundred years alone, he craved the company. They were welcoming (well, everyone but Bunnymund, but that was because his visits to the Warren always ended in a prank). They were never around constantly, though. Like a parent or a sibling. They had ways of contacting each other – each had an eternal snow globe, which could be used a million times without breaking, courtesy of North. Tooth had her wings, Bunny his tunnels, Sandy his bi-plane and North his globes and sleigh. Jack had the wind (a friend in and of itself), and through that the gift of flight. And if they were busy, he was always welcome with Jamie, Sophie, and their friends.

Visits, however, weren't filling this empty space in him. They were nice – tea time with North, dances with the mini fairies and Tooth, pranking Bunny, dreaming next to Sandy – everything he had wanted in the last 300 years. But they were busy – they had jobs to do, children to protect, and minions, er, helpers to take care of. The yetis,elves, mini-fairies, and egg golems were like blood children to the others. Even Sandy had the sea-shells and sea turtles who lived on his island, as well as the mermaids who visited. Jack had nobody like that.

The wind whined as it set him lightly on his lake, sensing his dimming mood. Jack skated absently to the edge of the water and flopped backward into the snow drifts. The wind curled around him, sending up a flurry of snow to cover the tired spirit. He nestled into the blanket with a soft thank you and waved as the wind left to it's other jobs. Maybe tomorrow he would swing by Santoff Claussen and ask North where he found his yetis and elves. Manny might know where he could find his own helper, his own constant friend.

As he fell asleep, Jack realized that was what he was missing.

Companionship.

The sound of laughter woke Jack first thing the next morning. With a groan, the ice spirit threw an arm over his eyes, blocking out the light of the first fingers of dawn that were clawing through the sky. The laughter grew louder, closer, and carried an unpleasant edge. It was instantly recognizable.

Teenagers.

Jack wished he had a pillow to pull over his head. He held nothing personal against teenagers – he was one himself, after all, a perpetual 17-year-old with three centuries worth of extra experience. These teens, however, were bad news. He'd seen them about town the past few years as they grew from small, pudgy, believers into jocks and bullies who thought they ruled the High School with an iron fist. In truth, he doubted there was a single working brain cell between the three. Jamie, who was in middle school now, had run afoul of them once when using the running track that the middle school and high school buildings shared. He'd come out of it worse for wear, with his first black eye and a bloody nose. Jack had seen what had happened when he visited that night, and the next day the three bullies were found frozen to the main steps of the school, babbling about a freak cold-snap that had been localized to their boots. They'd gotten detention for trying to pull a prank and blocking an emergency fire exit. Jack and Jamie had spent the night laughing themselves sick at the looks of astonishment and confusion on the boys' faces.

At the moment, however, Jack really didn't want to deal with the three pseudo-thugs. He was still tired from the storm he'd whipped up the night before. The wind tugged gently at his hair, trying to coax him into lying back down and returning to sleep. The winter spirit almost gave in to the temptation, but a noise stopped him. A noise other than laughter.

Someone – or something – was crying.

Grabbing his staff (which was never far from his grasp, even while he slept), Jack floated to his feet and looked toward the three boys. They were ambling down the path to his lake, throwing some kind of gray football between them. The tallest (whom Jack and Jamie had nicknamed Dumbo for his large ears) ran toward the lake and stood at the edge, tapping the ice with his boot.

"It's iced over!" He hollered over his shoulder at the other two. Brick (as in, dumb as) slumped forward. He was a hitter on the football team, and built like a steel door. He tossed the football to the last boy and joined Dumbo at the pond. He poked it with his toe.

The last boy was smaller than the other two, and was the towel boy of the football team. He tagged along with Dumbo and Brick, who tolerated them because his dad was an alcoholic and he could always get a six-pack for the weekends. They called him Tabs, and Jack and Jamie figured that was a good enough name for him.

Tabs joined them and looked down at the ice with disgust on his pimpled face. "So we ain't gonna drown it?" He asked, holding out the fuzzy football. Jack swept closer to take a look, and felt his frozen heart plummet.

The football was, upon closer inspection, not a football. It was an animal – a cat, if the tail was any indication – who looked as though it had survived a rather unfortunate encounter with a bear. It was tiny – the size of a grapefruit, no more than a kitten. Tabs was holding it by its scruff, obviously causing it pain, and swayed it back and forth absently. It had all four paws pulled up to it's chest, and it's tail (which was missing a chunk of fur near the end to show soft, pink skin) was curled around it's legs. It let out a pitiful mew, eyes shut tight.

Quite in contrast to his nature, a boiling rage swept through Jacks stomach. The wind easily picked up on his emotions and swirled angrily around the lake, picking at the snow drifts and sending the flakes skidding across the ice. The three boys, who were prodding at the ice with their boots, didn't notice.

"We can stomp it," Brick dug the heel of his snow boot into the ice, and a spiderweb of cracks emerged. "It ain't very thick."

As though in direct contrast of that statement, the ice snapped, then a fresh sheet spread over the lake, coated with thick fern curls of frost. Beneath the top layer, the ice thickened, nearly freezing a foot deep.

"What're you talking 'bout, stupid?" Dumbo shoved his own heel against the ice, and it didn't so much as whine. "The ice is to thick ta' crack." He reached out and grabbed the cat by the scruff. It mewed again. "We can go throw it in the well behind Mr. Jorbes house."

"Nah, I don't wanna walk all the way cross town." Brick scratched his chest and leaned back, balancing his considerable bulk (nearly all muscle) on his heels. "Lets just toss it in the snow and go home. I want hot chocolate."

Just toss it in the snow, Jack repeated in a hiss. Like it's not a living thing. Like it's a stone or a piece of trash. The wind lashed at him, tugging furiously at his hoodie and the tattered edges of his pants – it knew him and his emotions inside and out, and seeing him so angry had riled it up. The three boys shivered and pulled their jackets tighter around them.

"I agree with Brick," Tabs piped up, using his free hand to shove his scarf up over his ears. "It's too damn cold." The swear sounded odd coming from such a timid and cowardly boy.

Dumbo sighed dramatically, staring at the pitiful cat. "Hey, I know! Let's punt it!" He grinned at Brick, and even Toothiana wouldn't have been able to see the beauty behind it. "I bet it goes as far as that last goal from Fridays game!"

Jack had heard – and seen – more than enough. The snow that the wind had gathered shifted at his side, and he touched his staff to the top of the pile. It shifted, hastened by his rage, squeezing together into a large, smooth shape. It rose from the snow, shook the excess flakes from it's hide, and growled deep in its throat. This was a trick Jack had perfected while playing with Jamie and Sophie – creating snow beasts. Foxes, penguins, birds, fish, elephants – all were fair game. His favorite by far, however, was his polar bear.

At his side, the bear roared, and where his would have been were instead two deep indentations lit with a bright blue gleam. The boys, who had been arguing over who was going to kick the cat, froze where they stood. Bear roared again and lumbered forward with a silent command from Jack, standing at a considerable height of six feet while still on all fours.

"What the fuck is that?"

"It's a polar bear!"

"No it's not you idiot, they don't live this far south!"

"Maybe it got out from the zoo?"

"Guys, it's made of snow!"

"No it's not! Shut up!"

It's body may have been made of snow, but the claws that lined it's appendages were razor sharp ice – an addition Jack didn't use when playing with the kids. The boys, who for a moment had been frozen in fear, began to back away from the lake. They trailed over their previous footprints, eyes widening as the bear lumbered after them.

"Toss it the cat!"

"Yeah, it'll eat the cat!"

Without pausing to think, Dumbo hurled the kitten at the snow bear. With a gentleness rarely seen in any predator so large, the bear swept down and caught the animal gently between it's dull, rounded ice-cube teeth. The bears took off for the town, screaming at the top of their lungs about a rogue polar bear. Said rogue polar-snow-bear turned and padded back to it's master, the kitten clutched gently in it's mouth.

"Thanks, Lumi," Jack ran a hand over the bears head, brushing at the snowy fur. His temper was rapidly cooling now that the boys had left his lake, and the wind had stopped tugging at him. The bear growled happily at the attention before ever-so-gently dropping the kitten into Jacks outstretched hands. The eternal teen gave him a rare sparkling smile and pressed his forehead against the bears own. "I owe ya one, big guy." With a wave of his staff, Jack dissolved Lumi back into a pile of snow. The bear was a spirit – one of the many Native American spirit animals that lived throughout the Americas. Lumi had taken a shine to Jack over the past few years, and had been nearby when the boy had become enraged. He had offered to help, and had possessed the snow once Jack had built the body up. It wasn't the first time they had done this – it was amazing how loud a woman could scream when a bear snow sculpture snapped at her grocery bags.

Ignoring the spirits lingering presence, Jack knelt in the snow and cradled the kitten on his lap. It's eyes were still shut tightly, and he ran a thumb across the closed lids. There was some kind of, well, he couldn't really describe it – gunk, he supposed – keeping them shut, and the cold certainly hadn't helped get rid of it. It's tail was missing a chunk of fur, and there were several places where said fur was matted with blood and who knows what else. What really caught Jack's attention, however, was its ears.

The right ear had a large wedge taken out of it, as though someone had neatly cut out a piece of it's ear. Thanks to the cold, the blood had already clotted into a crusty scab around the injury. Jack gently touched the cut, and the kitten lashed out at him. Well, that was a good sign – if the kitten could fight back like that, then it had energy. If it had energy, it had life. If it had life, it could survive.

The left ear was in much worse shape. The top half had been torn off, leaving a ragged flap a little longer than a stump behind. It twitched alongside the other ear, and when Jack reached down to snap beside it's head, what remained of the ear swirled in his direction. It hadn't lost the hearing in his ears – another good sign.

The kitten mewed in protest as Jack moved it between his hands, and he paused to examine the fur, which had begun to frost over at the tips (much like how Bunnys' fur frosted when he touched Jack). It needed to get out of the cold, not to mention see a vet. Juggling the kitten between his hands, the spirit pulled off his hoodie one arm at a time and shook it out. The frost patterns around the cuffs and neckline dissipated, and as soon as he was sure the fabric was no longer frozen stiff he wrapped it around the kitten until only it's black nose shone through. There was a mew of protest,which he ignored in favor of standing and retrieving his staff (which he had dropped in shock when Lumi had caught the kitten).

Now the main concern was finding a vet. It was Sunday – that meant most places were closed, including Veterinary offices. So dropping it off at the local vet was out. Jamie and his family were gone – Jamie had been enthusing about a trip to the big city a few hours away for Christmas shopping all week, and they were supposed to have left early this morning. That left only the Guardians to turn to.

He immediately crossed Sandy off the list – a cat on an island of sand did not seem like a good idea. Tooth was next – she could probably help him, but India was an awfully long ways away. Bunny would be his first choice, but like Tooth was on the opposite side of the world, and was also out for Jacks blood after the whole 'neon-glow-in-the-dark-blue-fur-dye' incident. That left North.

Well, North did have his reindeer, right? They were animals. It would make sense for him to have a vet on his staff – most likely one of the older yetis. He had first-aid yetis for the Guardians, why not one for his animals? Santoff Claussen was also the closest hide-away to Jacks lake, and North would never turn him away, no matter the problem (unlike a certain Pooka when in a foul mood). He just had to make sure he avoided Phil at the doorway.

Mind made up, the boy made sure the hoodie was snugly wrapped around the kitten. He tucked it against his chest, holding it with a tight grip, and made sure the little black nose was nestled in the crook of his elbow so the wind wouldn't sweep away it's chance to breath. Grasping his staff in his free hand, he called for the wind to carry them north, to North.

AN: I feel like I got a little wordy with this story, but most of it was either written in the middle of my Physical Science class or very late at night.

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW! I really appreciate reviews, and knowing what mistakes I made and what people like and dislike about my stories. It helps me grow as a writer and I always like to know that people are enjoying what I write!