A/N: Hey, guys!

Welcome to my Rise of the Guardians fanfic, "Frostbitten!" I finally saw the movie a few days ago, and I've recently gotten into writing fanfictions, so I just couldn't resist writing this one! The main part of this story is going to to take place a while before the actual movie, just to clarify.

This is my first time putting a fanfiction on here, so hopefully this goes well. (:

Chapter 1

Believe.

"Can you…see me?"

Jamie nodded, eyes lit up with excitement and mouth agape in wonder.

Jack leapt back from the boy, and did a quick backflip in midair, a loud "Woohoo!" of happiness leaving his lips. The tall, young man eventually settled back down on the foot of the bed, perched precariously on the wood. A wide grin was painted over his sharp features, euphoria radiating off of him in waves.

Someone could actually see him!

Deep inside the mind of Jack Frost, underneath all of the giddiness he was experiencing, a memory arose from the depths of swirling thoughts, one that he hadn't thought of in months. The memory was almost enough to wipe the smile off of his face, though he managed to keep it fixed there.

The memory was quickly followed by an image.

An image of her.

A loud thud! reverberates from my window.

Groaning, I reluctantly push my layers upon layers of blankets off of my bed and lift my head up off my pillow. Blinking the sleep out of my eyes, I slip out of bed, my movements sluggish. I shuffle across my room and over to the large, firmly closed window that takes up most of the wall. Sitting down on the wide window sill, I suppress a shiver, knowing how cold it's about to get, and reach for the small latches at the bottom of the paned glass. My fingers fumble with the latches slightly, but eventually manage to undo them, and I lift the window open. Automatically folding my arms as a blast of cold air hits me, my teeth chatter quietly as I scan the street outside for the source of the noise.

I soon find it; the neighbors' little boy and a couple of his friends are having a snowball fight.

Rolling my eyes, I find myself annoyed yet not surprised that one of their projectiles managed to find its way to my window. Snowball fights are common this time of year as it is late December—almost January.

"Jamie B-bennet!" I yell down from my room in my two-story house. Despite the howling wind and the kids' shouts of glee, he hears me, and immediately drops the snowball he'd been preparing to throw. His head turns toward me. "It's too early for snowball fights! Some of us are still trying to sleep!" I chastise my young neighbor, keeping the cold stutter out of my voice this time. I regularly sleep in until noon during school vacation, so I am probably the only one still sleeping, but I don't care.

He stares down at his shoes and twists his hands nervously. I think he mumbles something, but his words are lost in the whistle of the wind. "But—but they started it!" he finally shouts, pointing wildly at his friends. Jamie's friend drops his snowball, and holds his hands up, saying something that I, once again, don't catch. Probably 'no, it wasn't us!'

"I don't care who started it, I'm ending it!" I respond, and, with a firm nod, slam my window closed.

Shivering again, I get ready to jump off of my window sill. But then something catches my eye. Someone actually.

Eyebrows furrowing, I slowly turn back towards the window. Another kid, this one a lot older than my neighbor, maybe around seventeen or so, rushes over to the small group. He's talking to them, but I can't tell what about.

I don't recognize this guy, and I know almost everyone on my street.

And you'd think I would recall if I knew him, he sticks out so much. He's really tall, for one thing, and somewhat slender, too. Lanky. Twiggy. This kid has really pale hair, which I think is just light blonde at first, but then realize that it is actually white. He, himself, is really pale-skinned as well, and he's dressed in regular blue jeans and a light blue hoodie with a snowflake pattern over the pocket. His abnormally-shaded hair or slight stature are not the strangest things about him, though; I would say that would be the large, hooked, wooden staff he carries, swinging it around at his side as he runs.

The strange boy starts to follow Jamie and his friends as they head down the sidewalk, obviously talking to them yet the kids seem to ignore him. I don't judge them for that; if a stranger carrying a big stick were to follow and pester me, I'd probably do the same.

Taken over by curiosity, I hurriedly leap off of my window sill, run to my closet, and swing the door open. I dig through the many hangars of clothing before finding a hoodie, and then quickly slip it on over my head, rushing towards my bedroom door. I dash outside, down the hall and down the stairs, and then to the front door, absentmindedly waving a good morning to my mother as she stares at me running from the kitchen table. I swing the door open, and sprint out onto the small lawn. "Hey! Hey, you!" I call out, hoping Jamie and the other kids don't think I'm talking to them. Running over the snowy grass in my bare feet, I try to catch the kid's attention.

I eventually come to a stop, panting heavily from the short run. Slowly, I cup my hands around my mouth and yell, "Hey, you with the big stick!"

The stranger immediately freezes at that. He glances over his shoulder at me, suddenly forgetting the children he was trying to talk to before. His eyes are narrowed curiously at first, but then quickly widen when they land on me. Trying to ignore my toes freezing over in the snow, I cross my arms, still panting. "Who are you?" I shout over the wind, struggling to refrain from shivering.

The boy almost slips on the icy street he's standing on when I talk to him.

"Y-you can see me?!" he splutters, balancing himself with his staff and completely ignoring my question. "Um, yeeeeah," I respond slowly, raising an eyebrow. A huge grin breaks out over his face and my eyebrow rises even higher. My eyes widen and my jaw hits the ground as I receive the shock of my life; the kid starts to levitate a few inches off the ground.

"H-how are you doing that?!" I demand, stumbling back. I'm paying so much attention to the boy and not my feet that I loose my footing as I back away and trip, ending up on my back in the freezing snow. The boy's expression quickly shifts to worry and he rushes over to me. I can't help buy notice how his feet don't touch the ground. "Are you all right?" he asks, extending a hand to help as he hovers above me.

Lifting my head up, I blow some hair and snowflakes out of my face, ignoring his question. I hesitate before reluctantly accepting his gesture and am pulled to my feet. He lightly touches back down to the ground, and I ask, watching him warily, "How the hell did you do that?"

"It's something I've always been able to do."

"…How long is 'always?'"

"'Bout three hundred years," he responds, looking down at his own bare feet as he rises a few centimeters and then drops again. I stare at him for a few moments with disbelieving eyes before blinking and saying, "Um, riiiight, now, what were you doing with my neighbors?" I point in the general area that Jamie and his friends disappeared in. The kid's expression darkens slightly, eyes narrowing. "I was, ah, just trying to get their attention…" he trails off, but quickly brightens up and continues briskly, "But now I don't need to! Because you can see me!"

"What do you mean 'I can see you?' Can't everyo-one…" I falter near the end of my statement, remembering how the kids in the snowball fight had appeared to be ignoring this guy. Had they been ignoring him or had they not even seen him?

My eyes widen as my gaze climbs up his slender form. A smirk is now plastered over his face. "Who are you?" I ask slowly and almost breathlessly. "I might ask you the same thing," he responds, and I can't help but notice how he avoids my question. I hesitate before replying shortly, "Cassandra." He opens his mouth to say something, but stops himself short, his eyes widening as they gaze behind me. I look over my shoulder. "What? What are you looking—?" I demand, turning my head to look at him again. I cut my question off as I stare at the empty air in front of me.

Where did he go?

Then I spot him, already several yards away, skating away on the icy street. "Hey!" I yell, racing forward a yard or two. "You can't just leave! I don't even know your name!"

He stops, skidding forward on the ice a few extra inches. He turns his head back toward me, using his free hand (the other one is holding his staff, another thing I didn't get the time to ask him about) to tug his hood over his face. "Jack," he calls loudly. "What?" I call back, eyebrows furrowing. "You wanted to know my name! It's Jack. And…I-I'll try to catch you tonight, but I have to go now!"

"Okay…I'll be waiting!"