Hey, guys! Here's chapter 3, as promised! This chapter shows how Kei'al'i and Emma's stories intertwine a bit more and someone finally shows up!
Just because I'm paranoid, I'm going to caution that this chapter touches on depression. It doesn't go into much detail, but it's still there.

Three years had passed since the death of Jackson Overland. No one would go near what we now called Winter Lake, out of respect for the Overland family. Every once in a while, though, a wanderer would find themselves in the small clearing and come running back to the village claiming that the lake was still frozen over, even in the hottest days of summer. Everyone would dismiss the claims as mere speculation, as no one wanted to go to the place of the terrible tragedy.

Emma had grown up in the three years since her brother's passing, relying less on her parents every day. The change was easily seen in her eyes, where once there was a carefree, grief-stricken girl whose world came crashing down in a matter of seconds, there was now a young woman who had been through more in her thirteen years than most people go through in their entire life.

After Jackson's death, Emma and I had become very close. I became her confidant, her shoulder to cry on, her best friend. She quickly became the little sister I always wished I had. She and I would sneak out of our homes on nights when the moon was bright and meet at the base of the mountain. We would talk for hours about our feelings, hopes, and fears. Emma would still cry on occasion for her brother, and I would join her, both of us silently mourning the boy that effected the entire village. I always thought, on those nights, that I had no right to cry for Jackson, a boy that I had never seen, much less known. But I couldn't shake the feeling that I did in fact know him. The tales Emma told seemed to make him much more real to me than a faceless boy and a pair of skates. In my mind, the lovable prankster was very much alive, however no less faceless. I always thought fondly of the story Emma had shared in which Jackson had stolen a pair of antlers from the mantle and ran around holding them to his head as if they were his own. Later that day, as the story went, Jackson had been hanging by a tree, teasing Emma after his latest prank had worked its magic and had fallen, spraining his ankle after an angry Emma had thrown a snowball at his face. That story alone made me wish that I had known the prank-loving clown that was Emma Overland's older brother.

Emma and I spoke often and had continued to grow closer. That was until a few months ago. With the third anniversary of Jack's death just two months away, Emma had started complaining about night terrors. She never told me what they were about but she did mention that she would often awake screaming in the early hours of the morning. Even the moon, which had been such a great comfort for both of us the past two years, had no ability to chase her nightmares away. Two weeks after her first nightmare, Emma had stopped coming to our special spot, claiming that it just wasn't the same if the moon couldn't comfort her. The week after that, she had stopped talking to me altogether. When I passed her in the street, instead of running up and hugging me as she once had, she stared straight ahead, obviously ignoring my very existence. While at first it felt as though my heart had been torn out and crushed, I had quickly grown used to the absence of her, and depression had taken a hold of my heart.

Having no reason to go outside anymore, I had once again began staying home, my bed providing the comfort that even Mother's words could not. I had long since ceased crying into my pillow at night and began staring numbly at the moon, wondering what I did wrong. It wasn't even completely about Emma, as my family thought. After nearly two weeks of being inconsolable, my parents stopped trying to comfort me, stopped trying to pry me out of bed, stopped caring. I felt like I was as alone as I had always been and that this depression was all my life would ever be. And, even worse than the betrayal of everyone I cared about leaving me, I had accepted that all I would ever be was alone.

The night of the anniversary of the accident, I somehow found the strength to pull myself out of bed, put on some respectable clothes, and venture into the outside world. The air that night was sharp and cold, it felt as if hundreds of miniscule razors were being dragged across my exposed skin. The pain was not the worst I had ever felt, and the bitter cold felt nice against my face. I stuffed my numbing fingers into the deep pockets of my father's old coat and continued walking. Glancing up, I noticed the moon was once again full and bright, reminding me again of my adventure three years ago. I almost wished I hadn't gone out that night, that I had just went to bed and not had to deal with any of this. If I hadn't attended Jackson's funeral, I would never have been friends with Emma, and would never have gotten hurt as I did. I stopped my meandering and stared up at the moon, begging again for its comfort that it had always seemed so eager to give me. Taking my hands out of my pockets, I brought them together, absentmindedly dragging my thumb along the smooth, raised edge of the scar that dominated my left palm. I closed my eyes. The cold, the moon, it was all so familiar, I wondered why I had ever locked myself away from it all.

My thoughts were abruptly interrupted as I felt a particularly cold blast of wind hit my face, weaving its way through my thick woolen coat and seemingly straight into my bones. I shivered and opened my eyes. I was in the Square, along with a handful of children, whose mothers left them to play while they picked up the things they needed. The children were not what drew my attention, but rather the person speaking to them.

"Oh! Excuse me, could you tell me where I am?" He said kindly, kneeling down in order to be at eye level of the boy he was speaking to. He appeared to be eighteen, though his hair was the color of someone much older, blending in with the snow on the ground. His blue eyes were so bright that they could be seen even from my vantage point. His cloak was a simple brown with stitches and patches sprinkling the outside. While taking in the sight of the mystery boy, my brain didn't bother wondering about the frost that laced the upper layer of the cloak. The boy's bright shirt stood out as well, although it was clearly more worn than it seemed. The thin fabric allowed the observer to see straight through to the boy's pale chest. His pants were strange, stopping four or five inches below his knees, the ends being held closer to his skin by what looked like twine tied around his calves. The boy's feet-were bare! He must be freezing out here in this cold! I began walking over at the same time the small boy started chasing his dog.

The child ran straight through the white-haired stranger! The strange boy stood up, and more people continued to walk through him, almost as if he were a ghost. I gasped and my hands flew to my mouth in an attempt to muffle the sound. Too late. The boy's shockingly blue eyes flew up to meet my equally uncommon grey ones. Before any coherent thought could form in my head, I turned and ran. I sprinted through alleyways and around corners, hoping to lose the pursuing spirit. By the time my energy had run out and my legs felt as if they had turned to worms, I was in the forest not far from the village. I bent over, resting my hands on my knees, and waited for my breathing to return to normal. The cool air was a welcome friend to my hot face and empty lungs. When I finally stood upright, I had to stifle a scream. Standing before me was the white-haired boy, whom people could walk through as if he truly were a ghost.

"Please, can you see me?" He asked, his fear as evident as mine.

"Yes," I felt no need to lie to him. "Who are you? Why-how could people walk through you?" Just because I didn't want to lie to him doesn't mean I didn't want answers of my own.

"My-My name is Jack Frost. That's all I know. That's all that the Moon told me!" Jack became very exasperated. "He didn't tell me why people can walk through me, or that I even could be walked through! He didn't tell me that no one could see me or that the only one who could would run away! I'm as lost and confused as you are!"

Damn my soft spot. "I didn't mean to run away," I said, trying to comfort him. "I was just afraid. I've never seen someone like you. You're different-like me." This seemed to both calm Jack down and cheer him up.

"Want to have a snowball fight?" He asked, a warm smile creeping across his face. Before I could respond, a snowball hit me square in the face and when I looked, Jack's smile was replaced by a sly smirk.

"You don't know what you just began."

Please, please, please read and review! I want to know how you guys feel about how the story's going so far, is it too fast, too slow? I don't know!

Just as a side note *let me get up on my soap box, here* depression is a very real thing. I suffer from it, many of my friends suffer from it, it just altogether sucks. If you know someone who is suffering from depression, please, please, PLEASE let them know that you care about them. That they are not alone and do not have to go through life by themselves. Someone does care about them. If they need it, give them a shoulder to cry on, give them someone who will listen. You don't even have to say anything back, just listen! You have no idea how much of an impact it makes on someone's life. *steps off soap box*

Until next time. I love you guys so, so much and I'll update soon!