Disclaimer: I do not own Rise of the Guardians, Jack Frost, or the wind.
Wind
She – he? It? Oh, she didn't know (and how she wished she did, but no, no, no, she couldn't know), though she liked the word "she" far better than either of those other identifications – she didn't remember how long she waited; how long she searched the Earth, roaming in fixed patterns and ruffling the leaves on the trees, brushing the soft and welcoming green blades of grass, raking and tangling her invisible – always invisible, even to herself - fingers through silky locks of hair, all in a strange, vain attempt to find him. Him, whom she had never met before but somehow knew, knew like she knew herself and her actions and her endless searching.
How would she know when she found him? In all honesty, she didn't quite understand herself. She always thought… She would just know. And when (not if, because surely he would exist in the future, right?) she finally did find him – her Snowflake, her Frost Child; the one she would protect with all of her being, for he was her only reason for existing – she would never leave him, ever, until her energy finally puttered out and she stopped whistling through branches and weaving through the open air. Only then would she leave her ice-child, and she hoped that wouldn't happen for a long, long time.
The invisible – always, always always always invisible – force of nature knew, though; she knew she was not eternal, knew that there were some places where even she, the wind, could not blow. Hell, there were times when she couldn't touch the places she had shuffled through for thousands of years! She was tired, she was weakening.
She needed the Snow Child.
The full moon illuminated the vast midnight blue expanse above, ferociously blotting out the would-be glowing stars of nights past. The wind found the silvery orb a bit cruel in that sense; when Manny was at his best, nothing else was even allowed to compete. (Oh, but further scrutiny of the sky proved that false; there across the cosmos, a bright dot contended with the moon, glimmering as if it was meant to be there – and the wind supposed it was. Who was she to say it couldn't?)
No crickets chirped - it was, after all, the Winter Solstice. The night was eerily silent; all of the animals and insects were in hibernation, hiding away from the sparkling, immaculate white flakes that covered the ground in an icy cold blanket. The lake – frozen and iced over – reflected the watery moonbeams from above and the dark silhouettes of the surrounding trees.
The night itself, though beautiful, wasn't what had the wind waiting with bated breath; no, it was the child who stood atop the icy pond, whose hair absorbed the moonbeams like a sponge, whose skin held a snow-like hue, and whose eyes shone with a shade of blue paler than the afternoon sky.
And as she wrapped herself around him in an airy caress, showering his face with happy kisses and rendering him weightless to the world, she relished in the dusty blue blush that adorned the snow angel's cheeks and the elated laugh bubbling from white lips.
A/N: What. Did I just write. *facedesk*
Well, even though this was really drabbly and probably not of a very good quality, please R&R! Go ahead and tell me how much this sucked. ._.