Prologue
Snow fell softly to the ground, sticking immediately to the grass and concrete that made up most of the neighborhood. The moon shone high in the sky, casting a silver glow over everything its beams touched. Far below it, a single figure was making his way lightly from rooftop to rooftop, careful to cover his footprints as he hopped from one house to another.
His stark white hair complimented his bright blue eyes and pale complexion, his thin lips twisted up into a content smile as he surveyed the flakes drifting lazily downwards . The wind stirred a little, swirling around the boy's head and whispering into his ear. The boy nodded in response and raised the long wooden shepherd's crook clutched in his hand.
The snow obeyed his command instantly, swirling down with more force and clumping thickly on everything it touched. The boy smiled again and hopped lightly off the roof, the wind catching him in her embrace like a mother would her child. The boy gives one last look around the neighborhood, nods to himself in a satisfied sort of way and flies off.
His mouth opens in a huge yawn and he runs a hand through his hair, letting his eyes slip shut halfway. He trusts the wind to guide him home, for his work for the night was done. The boy closed his eyes completely, relishing in the feel of the icy wind whipping through his hair and across his face, and because of this, he doesn't notice the figure following him until it slams down on his back, dragging his staff from his lax fingers.
The boy gasps and his eyes open wide, and then he was falling towards the ground and the wind is raging loudly around him, unable to catch him without his staff in his hand and the figure grabs his arm with one hand, slowing his descent enough that he only gets a few bruises when he is dropped unceremoniously on the ground.
He leaped to his feet instantly, blocking out the sound of the wind howling furiously around him and focusing solely on the hands twirling his staff carelessly around in their grip. The boy's eyes flicked upwards and found nothing familiar in the flaming red hair, green eyes and light brown skin, nothing but malice and anger and smugness.
The unknown spirit- for what else could he be, to fly and be able to see the boy?- strode forward until he was close enough for the boy to reach out and grab his staff, but he was wary. The spirit was much taller than the skinny winter sprite, and much stronger looking, too. He leaned forward, grinning widely when the smaller boy unconsciously took a step back.
"Hello, Jack," he said, his deep voice soft but still loud, even over the roar of the wind. Jack frowned and squared his shoulders.
"How do you know my name?" he asked bravely. The spirit chuckled.
"Every elemental knows of Emily Jane's golden child," he said, pointing the shepherd's crook in his hand at Jack. The sprite's face darkened.
"Don't call her that," he said. "And give me back my staff."
"And why would I do that when I want you powerless?" Jack's eyes widened when he finally realized the danger he was in, but still he refused to show the extent of his fear.
"I'm a General," he hissed. "Mother Nature won't take kindly to you assaulting one of her top commanders."
"Mother Nature," the spirit said in a disgusted tone, "is no threat to me." And before Jack could react, he had snapped the staff in two, then four pieces and dropped them carelessly in the snow. Jack screamed in agony, dropping onto the ground and clutching his thin arms around his middle. Tears were swimming in his eyes when he weakly raised his head to stare at the spirit. "Hmm. Not quite as painful as I had hoped. Oh, well. There are other ways to get what I want."
He waved his hand in a circle around the four pieces of Jack's staff and fire erupted on the ground where his hand pointed, creating a ring that completely encompassed the wooden pieces. Jack gasped at the sudden heat and fell forward, just barely managing to catch himself before he face planted in the snow. Black spots danced at the edge of his vision and nausea churned in his stomach, and the heat was unbearable and finally- thankfully- he was enveloped in unfeeling nothingness.
...oO()Oo…
The spirit watched with an evil smile on his face as Jack Frost slumped to the ground, unconscious. Once he was sure the sprite was out, he grabbed the pieces of the boy's staff from the ring of fire, well aware of the effects it would have on Jack if they were left to the flames, and he wanted the General alive.
With a casual sweep of his arm, he had lifted the limp body from the ground and taken to the skies, a quickly disappearing trail of fire marking his progress as he flew. He was only a tiny speck in the distance when the wind was calm enough to think rationally. Still howling with panic and anger, she flew off towards the Savannah Desert, where her queen currently waited.
She blew as fast as she could, praying that she could get help for Jack soon, and fearing the consequences if she couldn't.
