He's lonely, and doesn't know anything. He stays too long, and gets sick. It's the first time he nearly melts, and he doesn't know what to do. So he stays, stays in his misery and suffers through it. The heat will end, eventually. He will be fine.
He passes out, because it gets hotter. Wind must have carried him to a mountain, the only cool place at that point, because that is where he wakes up. He's too tired to say anything when a new figure appears, different than the semi-transparent figure that Wind had shown him, at one point. They have the deepest brown hair, green eyes shining in the rain that comes down around them.
"Hello," they say, voice like sweet syrup running down hands, "are you lost, frost child?"
He can barely nod, but that's okay, because the other has taken him like a child in their arms, impossibly strong for their size, gentle as if he might break. "It's okay, nix puer*, you'll be fine. I was there once as well."
He can't ask them what they mean, because the world is spinning, and he blacks out.
He knows better now. He doesn't stay to long, and if he does, he makes sure to prepare himself for the heat. Most of the time he will stay anyways, despite Wind's warning. Just to meet them.
It was his yearly reminder. He was real, the little oranges that he got every year proved that. The peels frozen in ice reminded him.
"I'm a Guardian now." he says one day, as they sit down to eat their oranges.
"Oh?"
"Yea."
"How did they ask you?"
"They kidnapped me, and told me I was chosen."
"That does sound like them." They chuckle, offering him a slice of their orange. "Are you okay with that?"
"Yea. They're good enough that you don't have to kill them, Rainn."
"You know I worry."
"But you don't have to. I have Wind, and she wouldn't have let anything happen to me."
"Says the boy who I met because he was melting on a mountain."
He pouts, tucking away some peals into his pocket. "I'm perfectly capable of handling myself."
"Whatever you say, nix puer."
"I'm not a child."
"You are in my eyes." They stand up, flowers blooming where they step, not unlike his ice that follows him everywhere. "You should leave soon. You'll melt, otherwise."
They wink at him, tossing him an orange, and leave him smiling on a melting mountain.
*Nix puer, according to Google Translate, means 'frost child' in latin. Thanks for reading! Favorites, Follows, and Reviews are always appreciated!