Wanderings of a Winter Spirit

by Altrien

The boy looked curiously at his own thin and pale hands, he tentatively touched his own cloak; all of it unfamiliar. He looked up expectantly at the moon, seeking answers. "Why I was there and what I was meant to do, I didn't even know, and part of me wonders if I ever will." A series of oneshots about Jack's early years as a Winter Spirit.

4. Chapter 4

A/N This chapter is short and sweet, but I needed the transition. Now that I've finished with Jack's first year as a spirit, it's time to move on to more main plot chapters. I really like how this chapter turned out, even if it is a little short.

I'm starting to get an idea where I want the story to go now. Thank you for all the followers and favorites. If there is anything you would like to see show up in the story let me know! I'm open for new ideas. Please read and review.

Chapter 4, Northward

Jack felt sluggish, much like the slush that surrounded his lake. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't make the snow stay. The lake itself was still frozen, but the town and forest were starting to thaw out. The days were slowly becoming uncomfortably warm. Would they soon be unbearable?

He did not know what to do. Frustrated, he waved his staff creating some snowflakes, but they melted before they even touched the ground.

The only relief Jack had was when he stretched out on the ice still covering the lake, but even that wouldn't last much longer, no matter how hard he tried.

Night brought some relief, but only briefly. While the day was filled with frustration, the night was filled with golden dreams.

The dreams started out as Jack creating more snow and enjoying endless winter days. Playing with the children, some could even see him, but only in the dreams. Flying with the wind, soaring among the clouds; Jack wasn't even sure if he could fly that high.

But then the dreams changed as the weather grew warmer. He dreamed of flying far away, letting the wind carry him as far north as it could; to where the snow never melted. Each night the dream was the same. Each time he flew farther into the northern reaches. Until he was gliding over a ridge, almost reaching the edge, so close he could almost see what his destination was and then he woke up.

The dream ended so quickly that Jack could still see the golden motes of sand floating around his head. Jack searched for the source of the sand in the pre-dawn sky, but there was nothing.

One good thing came from the dream. He knew what he needed to do now-follow the wind.

Jack floated up to the lowest branches of his favorite tree, and began to climb. He climbed as high as the branches could hold him and looked over the sleeping village of Burgess.

This little world was all that he knew; could he leave it behind? The wind stirred through the trees, encouraging him to let go, to fly. Jack grinned as the sun crested over the horizon. He would fly, free as the wind, going wherever it chose to take him.

He took the first step, and let go of the tree. He didn't fall, the wind caught him. It tumbled him around playfully.

"Take me north!" he laughed, and the wind carried him above the clouds toward the endless snow.