A few days after he first woke up in the pond, he had landed on a thorny bush. As he saw the sharp edges rip through his thin clothes and skin, he expected pain. He expected blood to run over his torn skin. When no pain came, he lifted the shredded fabric from one of his calves. Instead of bright red liquid, he was met with the same pale skin as he had been trying to get used to the last couple of days, only now, there was shallow cuts on it. His fingers, driven by morbid curiosity, picked at the cuts. Nothing. No pain. Only clean, dry, cuts.
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A scream echoed through the forest. The soft newly fallen snow stayed as it was on the dark tree branches, and all that moved was a bird startled from its perching spot.
"Oh no, Anne! Are you hurt?" A worried voice was heard through the trees.
"I think so! Sorry for scaring you." A slightly strained voice answered.
Jack had been walking through the trees, a bit unsure about flying in the wild winter winds since his fall the week before. Not that it had hurt him. At all. Only a few hours had passed before he saw that his skin was beginning to mend itself. Now all that was left was a few purple criss-crossing lines, and even these were almost faded to his usual skin colour by now.
As he reached source of the voices, he saw two girls standing next to a chopping block. One of them held one of her hands close to her body, protecting it. A small drop of blood dripped down in the white snow between the girls.
"But Anne, this is barley even bleeding! You don't need to scream like a banshee over a little nick like this." The other girl teased before turning serious. "But still, we should get you a clean bandage. Let's go inside."
The small red spot on the snow taunted Jack. It was a bitter reminder of the life he had started to envy so, so much. He thought back to his own dark, frozen veins. If humans bled, what did that make him? Someone who couldn't touch others, couldn't be heard, couldn't bleed? Someone so wholly different, and completely separated from the warmth of family and friends.
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A nightmare had cut though the flesh of his arm in the battle. For Jack, this was just an indifferent fact. It's not as if it would affect him.
"Are you okay?" Bunnymund asked. "Seemed like you got quite the cut there, mate."
Jack looked down on his arm. He would have to sew the hoodie up. Again.
"Yes, I'm fine. Just a waste of thread."
By now the rest of the Guardians had gathered around Jack and Bunnymund. As Jack pulled up his sleeve to inspect the wound the surrounding Guardians gasped. On his arm there was a clean, deep, cut. That was not the shocking part, it was certainly not unusual for any of them to get a few cuts and bruises here and there during battles. It was the fact that the gaping wound produced no blood that caused the stunned expressions around him.
Jack looked up and saw the alarm he had caused.
"What's the matter, guys?" It wasn't that bad of a cut. In comparison to other injuries he had sustained previously this wasn't anything to get upset over.
"Jack, why aren't you bleeding?" Tooth asked with wide eyes.
"Why I am not bleeding?" It had taken a long time for him to figure that out as well. It was not until he regained his memories that he had finally gotten an explanation.
"I am Jack Frost. I am ice. My blood is frozen."