Summary: Jack Frost really should have realized that Sandman wouldn't let it go that easily.
The night was cool as Jack sailed on the North Wind's back, the soft ruffling through his hair as the East Wind twirled over them, and around them, fluttering to and fro. The Winds tried their hardest not to harm him, but, under his thick coat and besides his face, he was still sore from the attack, and the Winds often whispered apologies every time he winced, but he smiled and laughed, and forgave them.
It was not their fault that he was in pain.
It was not their fault that he got attacked by another spirit, sprite, thing.
On the bright side, he hadn't lied about how he had gotten the bruise and cuts on his face, however.
He had hit a rock, and it hadn't been because he was shoved.
He had sort of had his face rammed into the rock.
He winced at the memory before he let out a long sigh and closed his eyes as he floated along on the breeze, content in this moment, even as he felt his body twinge with occasional spasm of pain. He was floating on there when he felt himself gently bump something.
Immediately his eyes flew open and he began to flail a bit, panic overtaking his limbs and mind and then a familiar hand was in his hair and he blinked a bit to find that he was on one of Sandman's golden clouds and said dream weaver was staring down at him in concern. Jack smiled back, wincing when it made his face hurt and he leaned a bit into the gentle hand running through his hair.
He was going to get spoiled, really.
All this almost off-handed touching that he knew was regular, that it was normal amongst the families he watched, but he was alone most of the year, unlike those children he tried to have him see.
He wouldn't get this regularly once Sandman began to focus back on the sleeping children.
So, Jack focused on the now and decided to just enjoy it while it lasted. He let his eyes slide closed, grip relaxed on his staff as Sandman continued to run a comforting hand through his hair, the concern wrapping around Jack as securely as the jacket he wore.
He felt a gentle tug on his hair and he opened his eyes to find Sandman watching him in concern. "Sorry," he offered, but Sandman merely frowned and reached out, hand hovering over the bruise.
"Oh, you're not just going to let it go?" Jack questioned hopefully, but Sandman gave him a little scowl that said what he thought about that idea and Jack sighed softly, feeling the Winds curl around him, South on the outer most edges and Jack curled up, hiding away in his coat.
He gripped his staff like a life line and he rested his cheek against the frosted wood.
He didn't want to, but Sandman was asking. And, of all the things in the world Jack could stand against, Sandman was not one of them. He stared out, across the world that was still light, a break between the sleepers, and Jack let out a soft sigh.
"I don't know who or what it was. I just know that she was mad. She was mad at me, for some reason. She kept saying that I stole something of hers, but I didn't understand. I had just landed near a cold pool of water and…I took off my coat and laid my staff over it. I was thinking of moving South soon. Have to, anyway. I don't want to run into Summer, and Spring is feisty enough. I should be South already, in fact, but…the Winds are being stubborn and I won't make them take me until it is absolutely needed. But Spring is at the midway point, which means that Autumn's half over on the Southern hemisphere, and really, we need to be there right now," Jack answered and the Winds made remarks about being bored.
It was never a good sign.
He wasn't even around for a century yet, and he already knew that bored Winds were not good for anyone.
Especially him, apparently.
"But, we're still here. And it…I hit the ground, I didn't want to hurt her. I knew she was a spirit and then…West Wind came and yanked her off. First time any of the Winds ever carried someone else, but it wasn't enough. West Wind, who really, is very stubborn, suddenly dropped off, and I hadn't quite got my bearings yet, she grabbed my head and hit it into the rock. She wasn't trying to brain me or anything. I think she wanted to stun me. The only problem was that she hit my face, and it hurt, but nothing broke…I think. But North Wind…North Wind doesn't exactly play nice, unless I ask him to. He's got a mean streak a league wide when he gets the chance to exercise it and he doesn't care who gets in the crosswinds, so long as it isn't me. He didn't do anything at first because he knew I would be upset, but the minute it wasn't just hitting and shouting, he was at her.
"I know he hurt her, but…the minute I had my staff and coat, he was carrying me off. Since then, all Four Winds have been circling me. I'm worried they'll tear whoever it was apart," Jack explained and there is a gentle hand.
Jack let's his eyes slide closed again as the comforting hand runs through his hair.
He does not protest when sleep claims him, bringing him golden dreams.
When he wakes, he is in the South Pole.
For the first time, Jack is seen by the penguins and Jack loves it.
He doesn't question why he can understand them now too.
He figures it is part of whatever Mother Nature gave back to him.
And in the night of the world, golden streams, bright and glowing, play down.
And in each curl is an identity, whispered and soft.
Jack Frost, the Child of Winter.
A/N: This was really hard to write, mostly because my brain kept jumping around.
Originally, yes, he was attacked.
As I was writing this, it kept jumping around from embarrassing to angsty, till eventually it settled on whoever it was that attacked Jack.
Not the original person.
Probably a good thing.
So, there's that.
I'm going to go hide now and try to write the next part.
Maybe we'll eventually get to meet the seasons! (headdesks)
They were SUPPOSED to show up before now.