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Sorry for the late update, I may start updating every six days because of school and stuff.

But I'm on April Vacation now, so I will update a lot more often... hopefully!

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Sorry that the chapter is a bit short today.

Enjoy the Chapter!

I sat on the ice on the center of my pond, my final resting place. My blue hood was pulled up over my head, and my arms were crossed over my knees that were pulled to my chest. In my left hand, I grasped my wooden staff. The touch was comforting, as was the wind that swirled around me.

I sighed and placed my forehead on my knees. I had cried on the flight over here, so I had no more tears left. I felt exhausted. So, as I sat on the white- blue ice, I thought about my family. The memories seemed to seem into my mind. and it felt like a fog clearing.

But no matter how hard I tried, I could not remember my parents. I could remember my mother's voice, and my father's laugh, but that was it. Yet, I remembered everything about my sister. Her height, her hair, and the funny little laugh that she let out when I tickled her.

She loved to go and try to catch the Easter bunny; she loved strawberries and her favorite color was green; and the day before the winter solstice, she would go outside and pick as many flowers as possible, and give them to everyone in the village.

I missed her.

I grasped at my chest and tried to comprehend what was happening. I never had anyone to miss. No one to remember fondly, and now I know that I had a family; I was human; and I had died.

I left all of that. I left it all, but my sister was safe. I saved her from drowning, and then she burned instead.

Tears began to leak out of my eyes, but I quickly wiped them away. To be honest, sometimes I hate remembering. Sometimes it hurts so much...

"Jack." I heard from behind me. Noticing the Australian accent, I only gave Bunny a glance to let him know that I knew he was there. I was too tired to make a sarcastic remark, so I remained still and quiet as Bunny came and sat down next to me.

"How old was she?" I asked quietly, needing to know.

"She was eleven at the time of the fire." Bunny answered with little hesitation. Eleven. I had bought her a year.

"You never let me finish my story." Bunny told me.

"I don't want to hear it." I told him, with little emotion in my voice.

"Yes you do. So shut up and listen." Bunny replied, sounding like himself again, "When Pippa's light went out, me and the others went to see what had happened. When we saw the house burnt down, we all assumed that she was dead. But then Pitch came..." my eyes widened. Pitch? What did Pitch have to do with any of this? Seeing the look of shock on my face, Bunny explained.

"To give you the short version: After you died, there was a black dot on the globe. We went to see what it was, and discovered that it was a child that liked Pitch. Pitch became her best friend, and eased her into a normal routine.

Pippa lost the ability to dream, but when she got it back, Pitch did not want us to make her think badly of him, so he made his own dream sand to give her good dreams that he could control. But back to the fire:

When Pippa's light went out, me and the others went to see what had happened; we had grow pretty fond of Pippa. When we saw the house burned down like that, we assumed that Pippa had died. But then Pitch came and said that she wasn't dead; he wouldn't tell us anything else. All we know is that Pippa Frost did not die in that fire."

My eyes widened and my heart raced. My sister had lived! But how? Only Pitch knew. Pitch Black. My enemy. My sisters friend.

I jumped up, already knowing my next destination. Running forward, I stopped and turned around, looking at Bunny.

"Thanks, Kangaroo." I told him with a smirk.

"You're welcome, Frostbite." Bunny said with a smile on his face. And with that, I took off, asking the wind to find Pitch Black.

Upon hearing Jack's request, I immediately began to steer him toward one of the entrances of Pitch's home. Though I did not lead him to the closest one because I needed to warn Pitch.

I had waited three hundred years for this. For my brother to remember me. To be called Pippa in a voice other that Pitch's. I was ecstatic. Finally, my brother would now that he would always have someone, and that he always had.

I rushed into Pitched lair and blew against the chime. Pitch had made it a couple decades ago so that I could let him now that I was there without speaking. Seconds later, Pitch appeared from the shadows with a gentle smile laid on his face.

"Hello Pippa," he announced, "To what do I owe the visit?" I swirled around him at an alarming rate and prepared myself to talk; I had been very chatty today.

Jack's coming. I told him. Pitch's brow creased together and confusion plastered his face.

"What for?" Pitch asked with curiosity. I collected myself and answered.

My story. My secret. Me.