End of chapter 1:
"Come on now, mates! Why have you got to pick on the rabbit! Crikey. Right bunch of asses."
He realized that it was the only fair choice, but was still upset. The Guardians all bid each other goodbye and left Nicholas to continue preparing for Christmas by creating warm meals that most children were wishing for at every waking moment. The Easter Bunny tapped his foot again and left a small patch of flowers where he disappeared.
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Jack awoke feeling colder than usual, which to him was rather nice, because the winter was his time to shine. He stretched his thin arms and yawned, grinning at the puff of vapor that escaped his mouth. To stand, he took hold of his staff and floated up a few feet, trying to loosen himself from having slept on the hard ice.
He looked at his wall of thirteen tally marks and frowned at it. His least favorite thing to do was add another day, but this was only the beginning. After scratching the wall again, he carved his own name, Jack Frost, into the ice for fear that he might forget it like he had so many other things.
"Did I forget?" he murmured to himself. No one else was around to hear, let alone listen or answer. He couldn't get a soul to notice him. "Or is there nothing to remember?"
Jack walked dejectedly through the cave until his bare feet felt fresh snow. He smiled and took in the crisp air; filling his lungs with something he would soon dub Winter's Bakery. It was a nice morning, not a cloud in the sky, and when Jack walked into town he saw everyone was rather festive and kind.
"Hello," someone said, and Jack was startled. He turned around and smiled, said "hello," back, until he realized that their eyes weren't quite focused on his. They blurred past him like a dream. Jack took a step back and walked away, upset despite everyone's outward cheer.
"Hello?" he called out. "My name is Jack Frost. I haven't been able to tell you before today. Oh, you want to know why? Good question." Jack laughed, as if he were having light conversation with someone. "Well, it's because the, uh, the Moon told me, I think. Or it was the wind. I don't know. It... it sounds crazy, huh? I know. Please- wait!"
He'd been talking in front of a little girl, but she walked away just as he was starting to like her. She couldn't see him. Jack sighed. He lifted himself off of the ground and flew up to a rooftop. Gently, he plucked a large icicle and stared into his distorted image.
"I can see me," he told himself. "Can you see you?"
The face in the ice merely mirrored his movements and waited for an answer alongside its owner. Jack tossed the icicle down in his disappointment. Someone screamed, and he nearly fell off of the roof.
"Ow!" said a whimpering voice. It began to cry.
"It came out of nowhere!" someone shouted. "How could it have fallen so far from the roof?"
Jack literally ran through the crowd to see up close what he'd done. "Bad spirits," someone else responded as many other people surrounded the girl who'd been hit by the icicle.
"Did anyone else hear the name Jack Frost last night?" asked an old woman, hobbling forward to inspect the injured and whimpering child. It was the same girl that Jack had been talking with- or rather, to- earlier.
"I did," chorused the villagers. They were all surprised at each other. There was an eerie pause.
"I thought it was the wind playing tricks on my old ears," said the lady. Her voice was slow like slush. "But no. I believe that Jack Frost is malevolent spirit come to exact revenge!"
"What?" Jack said. He was completely appalled by the idea. Where had she heard that? Jack's mind raced to remember everything from the past two weeks. He'd never done something like this before. And now, right after there was a clear "warning" from the Moon, people were suspicious and jumped to conclusions.
"Revenge?" someone shouted. "For what? Our hard work and prayers are as prevalent as ever. Why, we've only just harvested the autumn crops! What do you mean, revenge?"
"Yeah," another agreed. There was a long stretch of silence while the old woman showed the child that she could break the icicle, and that it was nothing to fear.
"You see? That's better, dear." She cleared her throat. "Is anyone open to believe something else? We've gotten a clear sign. With taxes and such a cold winter, we can't take the chances of a demon."
"Demon!" Jack exclaimed. "What do you mean, demon—?"
"Now, then. This Jack Frost." The villagers clustered together to form a misshapen circle. The old woman continued, "How could we repel it?"
"We know not what it dislikes," a young woman said. "There's no way to repel a spirit that takes pleasure in wreaking havoc."
"No!" Jack shouted. "I'm not- I'm not evil! I didn't mean to hurt her!" He raised his arms and pointed to the girl. She was okay, but shivering and had a bruise on her side. "It's not like I was aiming!" he cried desperately.
"What if it's not Jack Frost? What if that was just a child's prank?"
She looked at the inquisitive man with sadness in her eyes. "I can only assume, George. But…" she looked around at the other villagers and stepped closer to whisper in his ear. Jack tried to listen but could only hear "Overland" and something about a ghost.
"How can we banish it?" he asked quietly, and bent down to lift the child and cradle her.
"Let's wait. See what else it can do," the old woman answered. "For now… Anita is our responsibility."
There was a murmur of agreement throughout the crowd as they dispersed, and the young man carried Anita to her home.
The old woman looked to the cloudless sky and gave it a scowl. "Listen well, Jack Frost," she said, and Jack flinched. He shouted at her to no avail. "You are no friend of this village. Leave while you have the chance, and let my people walk in peace! You were brave in the past but now plague us."
"I'm not evil!" Jack repeated, running up to her and striking his hands through her face. "I'm not- I- I'm not! I'm not!"
Jack's hands going through her head made for a nasty chill. She felt her nose going numb and lifted the collar of her jacket. "Don't attack me!" she growled. "Leave."
Jack could hear his heart thump-thump-thumping. It was useless. She couldn't see him. "I'm not evil!" he screamed into her ear. It only sent a small gust of cool air through her brain. The old woman walked away. "Yeah, you walk away! You know that I win! I'm not a malevolent spirit! I'm not here to exact revenge! Why can't you listen to the others?"
He yelled at the people until he could yell no more. They wouldn't listen, couldn't listen. Jack stood completely still, felt uncomfortably hot, he couldn't think straight. He kicked at the snow and punched a tree until all the snow rested at his feet and his knuckles were as red as a cherry.
Feeling hopeless and swallowed by a bad nightmare, Jack bent down and made a snowball. It was small, harmless. He threw it at a house. No one noticed. He threw another snowball, this one bigger and heavier, at a door. Still ignored. Jack spent several minutes creating a pile of snowballs until he ran out of clay. With the rest of his energy Jack threw each snowball aimlessly, tossed them here, there, everywhere.
"I'm not evil!" he shouted, and ten snowballs rammed into a horse-drawn carriage. "I'm not!" he yelled, and ten more snowballs smacked into people walking by. Jack threw them until he fell down and could hardly feel anything but numbness. In his wake dozens of people were battered by the ice. He took no notice and flew up and away, clutching his staff, his only possession, running back home feeling too warm and too upset.
The people were set on getting rid of this Jack Frost.
A/N: If you have any ideas or suggestions to make about what Jack would do for 300 years, I'd love to write in some filler chapters. Thanks for reading! Reviews are appreciated.