I'm only going to do an authors not now and at the end, if we get there. Ha. Anyways, first story in a while, I'm not sure what I'll rate it at. Probably teen, but it depends... Opinions on that would be lovely. Also, on the story, and review is appreciated, constructive criticism even better. I want to improve, I want this to be enjoyable. I can only do that if you help me. I don't have a beta, and the idea is only half thought out. and with that. Enjoy.

Cheers,

Kate

Tristen didn't remember anything from before the orphanage, but she hadn't lived her entire life there, at least, that's what they told her. Like every other child with whom she shared her cramped dormitory with, she had always had a fierce desire to know who her parents were. Only her situation was different, she didn't have the neat forms with her name and medical records. She didn't have the quiet reassurance of the other girls, "You really are better off here sweetie". All she had was the confused and pitying glances of the sisters, and the hushed conversations that followed her.

It didn't take her long to understand why, she wasn't like the other girls, her face was too ashen, her her eyes too dull and reptile-like, her hair too limp. She wasn't pleasant.

That didn't stop her from having a shocking intelligence or being rather fierce, but it did stop her from having friends.

At first when she tried to find her parents, she had tried the traditional way. For two years she almost wasted away in the local library and archives, trying to find something, anything. After eighteen months, it was sheer desperation that kept her going, but eventually she turned to the whispers that lingered at the edges of her research. She turned to her dreams, or rather, the sandman.

But her hopes weren't high.

Her research had led her to a blog, written by a teenager eight years or so older than her named Jamie. The most popular post of his was detailing something that had happened to him when he was eleven, where he had helped Jack Frost, Santa, Tooth fairy, Sandman, and the Easter Bunny defeat Pitch Black. The details to what had happened to Pitch always seemed lacking, so she wasn't sure how credible it was. Still, she sent him an email, and it took a while (six months) to get a reply. He eventually let her know the exact dates of the things that had happened. After a quick reference to the orphanage records showed the nine year old that the date that she had been left on the front porch was the same.

It took a lot of convincing, but eventually she started to tell herself that the sandman could help her. Another two years went by before she gave up on that.

An eleven year old Tristen decided that she should try to ask Jack Frost to help her find her parents.

"Jack! Ja-ack!" The call was faint, but Jack heard it none the less. It wasn't often people believed in him, let alone called him. Deciding it wouldn't be a bad idea to check it out, he called the wind. Feeling the familiar chill tugging at him, he gripped his staff tighter and willed his way to the voice, flying in the night.

It was a girl. Not very old, and rather depressed-looking, keeping her head angled towards the ground.

"Can I help you?" The girl asked, the voice the same as the one calling him only moments ago.

Jack felt a smirk pull at his lips, "Shouldn't I be asking you that? You called me."

The girl looked up sharply, which showed how dull and watery her eyes looked, "Jack Frost?"

He felt his chest puff up a little at the awe in her voice, "The one and only."

There was a strange moment of silence between the two. Jack was waiting for the girl-in-black (as he decided to call her) to explain herself. She didn't say anything, just looked.

"Why did you call me?" he finally asked, exasperated.

"Jamie was right." The girl muttered.

Suddenly Jack was right next to her. "Jamie? Have you been talking to him?"

"Mhm. He said you might be able to help me find my father." The girl-in-black dared to turn and meet his eyes for a brief moment.

"I'm not sure I can help with that." He said slowly.

"Oh of course you can!" She cried, suddenly angry sounding, "You know where he is! You put him there!"

"I'm sorry - you must have the wrong guardian-"

"Of course I don't." The girl sighed, meeting his eyes again, "I'm Tristen, the daughter of Pitch."