A/N: Oh my gosh, you guys are amazing! Thank you all so much for your support! It has really kept me motivated! Anyway, welcome back! In this chapter (which begins when Jack has returned home from Québec), Jack dwells on the day's events and how he obtained the injuries that were hinted at in Chapter 1. There's a very long flashback in this one that will start and end with this "❅❆❅" symbol so get ready for the feels and keep your eyes peeled (Ha, that kinda rhymed)!

RECOMMENDATION: Keep in mind that this is a really long chapter (over 8,000 words) so I recommend taking breaks from reading whenever you come across a flashback symbol, break-line, or whenever you feel like it. It's entirely up to you! I'm saying this because unless you like binge-reading or you have a lot of time on your hands (both of which are totally fine though), it's better to relax and take breaks instead of cramming and reading the entire thing at once (which will take about 40 minutes straight if you have normal reading speed).

Enjoy!

Chapter 3: Spring's Parting Gift to Winter

Dark clouds consumed the night sky, leaving the moon and its light partially hidden from the town of Burgess, PA, USA. Not far away, the wind howled as it carried the young winter spirit, Jack Frost, gently to the forest floor, a frigid breeze following.

After landing, Jack made his way through the lonely forest surrounding Burgess, staff in hand, until he came across a frozen lake and began to walk on it with ease. This action automatically caused the lake to receive a nice new coating of ice, adding to the thickness of it.

With his bruised eye still throbbing with pain, he looked around at the gloomy area with an air of melancholy before producing a sigh, wincing almost as soon as he did, his lungs burning.

This was his lake, the one that the Moon pulled him from all those years ago.

To the sides of the lake, bare trees and snow-sprinkled, untamed shrubbery littered the area. To the far corner was a rocky barrier jutting out of the Earth, separating the lake from the rest of the dense forest. Other than that, though, access to the lake was pretty open. Jack, who was now standing at the center of the frozen lake, looked around once more at the dreary area surrounding him.

Yep.

This was his home. His desolate, unchanging home. It was true that in his three hundred years of existence, the lake hadn't changed much despite the advancing society—originally called Hawthorne—residing near it. Truth be told, although Jack disliked the isolated ambiance the place held, he really hoped it would stay that way; after all, his lake was among the few things he had to call his own. Many times, he had heard stories of other nature spirits having their homes demolished by construction companies, leaving them to either find a new home or take residence at Mother Nature's palace. Jack disliked both ideas because he loved his home dearly even if it did get lonely from time to time.

Besides, it wasn't that lonely. Occasionally, kids from the Burgess area came to his lake during the winter, deeming it a fun place to hang out and sometimes even skate on (which prompted him to always put an extra layer of ice on the lake just to be safe, of course). And although they couldn't see him, Jack still enjoyed watching them play games, talk, and carry on snowball fights that he started. Still, it did hurt.

Coming out of his thoughts, the wintry teen sighed again, promptly grimacing afterwards but soon developing a dejected expression. He then turned his gaze to the thick, transparent ice underneath his feet, his eyes fixed on the liquid abyss below it.

Wind, taking notice of this familiar behavior, knew that this meant he was depressed. Every so often, he did this—just stared into the watery darkness below, probably contemplating his life and why he was created, which was understandable, she thought, since the Moon hadn't given Jack any reason not to. At first, she had assumed that this mannerism was probably just a harmless act, but the continuous nature of it made her worried. He used to be so buoyant and free when he played with her and pulled pranks, but now, he just seemed so lost and sad.

Wind didn't like that one bit.

So, to pull his attention away from depressing thoughts, she swooped by him and playfully ruffled his hair. In response, Jack looked up and gave her a superficial laugh, his lips now holding a small smile. The winter spirit was usually playful when it came to Wind, but he was just too tired both physically and emotionally to really respond in the way he wanted to. Wind swirled around him in glee, though, for she had at least gotten a laugh and a smile out of him; she was content for now at least.

Nimbly, the boy glided off of the frozen lake to a nearby tree that was enveloped in the moonlight that had peeked through the thick clouds above. He carefully leapt into the tree, landing on a sturdy branch laced with thawing snow. As he reclined back on his side, he couldn't help but let out a groan of pain as his injured ribs came into contact with the trunk of the tree that he decided to sleep on for the night. The teen promptly shifted off of the tender spot and relief immediately flooded his senses. With his back now against the tree's trunk, causing it to slowly frost over, Jack gingerly cradled both his staff and his impaired arm that was luckily, thanks to a certain spring spirit, starting to feel a lot better. The bruises and marks on his face along with his injured ribs more or less so. Closing his eyes, he began to recollect the day's events.

This morning, he had been spreading a light layer of frost in the area near his lake. Truth be told, Jack knew that he should've left while he still could, but he had always hated this time of year—not really because of the season change, but because he would have to leave his home behind and would not be able to return until mid-autumn. The thought of leaving his lake unattended for so long had always disconcerted him, but he had accepted the fact that it was a necessary evil; he just couldn't afford the cost of staying in the area during the other seasons.

By now, it was springtime in the Northern Hemisphere as the world was already two days into the month of April, and his energy was fading almost as fast as the snow in the area was melting. Soon, he knew he would have to retire to either the Arctic or at least somewhere in the southern hemisphere like Antarctica.

Personally, Jack preferred Antarctica because of the smaller chance of running into anybody he knew or didn't want to know. Not to mention, the colder temperatures, which could reach a comfortable -80°F (-62°C) or colder during the Southern Hemisphere's autumn and winter. However, as much as he would love to indulge in the wonderfully cold temperatures of the continent, the winter spirit was now afraid that he wouldn't even make it past the heat of the equator this year because of the injuries he had recently sustained from a few spring spirits this morning.

In the past, it happened rarely, only when he had happened to encounter one of them during the transition of the seasons, and they had seemed cross with him. Ever since the Blizzard of '68, though, these encounters grew more frequent and harsh. Anyway, as he lightly frosted the landscape this morning, some spring spirits had come looking for him, ready to deliver their seasonal parting gift. ❅❆❅

Jack had tried to fly away as soon as he felt their painfully warm aura approaching, but they had quickly caught up to him and struck without hesitation. After being knocked clean out of the sky, he had tumbled down to the Earth, smacking into many tree branches along the way with his staff falling a few feet away from him. The winter spirit was then roughly seized and held to the thawing ground by warm hands before he could even regain his breath. After struggling for a moment and deciding it was a futile attempt, he directed his gaze upwards at the insidious figures of spring as they loomed over him; he instantly recognized most of them from previous scuffles.

April Showers with her shoulder-length, silvery blonde hair and steely purple eyes was dressed in her usual rain gear while she smirked down at his vulnerable form. Her younger sister, May Flowers, who physically looked about 15, donned a flowery dress and held a malevolent glint in her green eyes as her honey blonde hair sporting various types of flowers cascaded past her shoulders.

His frosty gaze then shifted to another teen standing near the spirits that were towering over him but did not recognize her soft purple-blue eyes as she stood in the background, a slight look of uncertainty on her face. He noticed that she physically looked about his age. Like Flower's, her hair cascaded past her shoulders but was wavier and light brown in color instead of a honey blonde. Her outfit consisted of a knee-length, short-sleeved dress—almost looking like some sort of modified, belted chiton that he saw in a book once—that was composed of some type of flowy, light purple-blue fabric. On the hip and to the sides of the dress, Jack could see that there were built-in pockets probably harboring a knife or some other weapon to harm him. All of this only took a second for him to observe before he tried to figure out who was restraining him.

Jack could not see the two spirits behind him but silently cursed them as they tightly held him to the ground, their uncomfortably warm hands pushing both his shoulders and back down as one locked his arms behind him in place. Nevertheless, Jack continued to scowl defiantly at the three figures that he could see before him.

Jack recalled that the last time he had seen so many spring spirits gathered together in one place (other than in Mother Nature's palace, of course) was when he had pranked a group of them the year before last. How could he not resist temptation when they had just caused a whole patch of flower buds to sprout out of the ground on the very edge of his season? He had lightly frosted them over thinking only of their shocked faces when they would find out that he was the cause of the rather harmless prank, but they (one of them being May Flowers if he remembered correctly) seemingly found it extremely offensive, thus worsening the already unnecessary vendetta that the spring spirits had against him. Truth be told, he had hoped that his prank would just induce the spring spirits to give him a little attention through conversation, which was all he really wanted, but he knew that it would probably just bite him in the butt one day, and it seemed like today was that d—

A smooth, masculine voice from one of the goons behind suddenly startled him out of thoughts.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here? A winter spirit in spring?"

Jack had closed his eyes so the spring spirits couldn't see him roll them. Great. Verde's here. Just fantastic.

Next came another familiar voice from one of the spirits restraining him.

"Looks like it to me. What do you think we should do with it? April? May? Any suggestions?"

Ugh, I hate this guy. I don't even know his name, but I hate him.

Jack glared back at the three spring spirits before him and waited for their answer. Of course, Wind was freaking out right now, swirling and roaring around his captors, trying to do something but couldn't. It didn't help that the wind that April and May controlled (The East Wind) was chasing his Wind (The North Wind) around, causing minuscule tornados to appear around them during the high winds' chase.

As for Jack, he desperately wanted to struggle, to get away and flee, but couldn't considering his staff was a good distance away, he was restrained, and his powers were meant to submit to spring's vicinity, or in this case, its spirits. By now, he couldn't even take their heat and was already starting to sweat (a very bad sign for a winter spirit). As he continued to stare daggers at them, waiting for April's response, Jack started to involuntarily droop in their grip, his breathing becoming ragged as the warmth obviously started to take a toll on his naturally cold body. Besides, even if he could fight, he knew from experience that struggling always made it worse for both parties.

He watched as April put her hand up to cup her chin, seemingly pondering all of the ways they could harm him. Then, as if she finally thought of something clever, she snapped her fingers, her violet eyes lighting up before narrowing at Jack.

"I think we should teach him a lesson. Y'know the one on how not to freeze the rain that I create for the Earth, turning it to sleet and snow."

May joined in. "And the one on how not to kill my blooms and flowers with their frost."

Jack then made direct eye contact with her and shrugged nonchalantly, trying not to show any pain as he responded with a slight smirk, "Enlighten me then."

In the next instant, his left cheek burned with the mark of a handprint, and he was shoved roughly into the ground by Verde and "Stupid-Jerk."

"Shut it, Frost!" May fumed vehemently as she continued, "I'm tired of you always ruining things! You never learn your lesson, and I hope this is the last I ever have to see of you, you cold waste of space!" She quickly rose her hand again to strike, and Jack closed his eyes tightly and shrunk back as he prepared for the blow.

He waited.

…

To his utter surprise, nothing had happened.

He opened his icy-blue eyes to see that the girl accompanying them was now holding tightly onto May's wrist, effectively blocking the blow that was meant for him.

"Sarila, what're you doing!?" May questioned incredulously.

The one that May called Sarila looked around at each of her comrades with an unsmiling, disapproving glare that could kill until her light purplish blue eyes landed on Jack.

Was that… pity?

In all of Jack's life, he had never seen a spring spirit or really any other spirit for that matter look upon him with such compassion. Something in his heart seemed to thaw; he was speechless to say the least. He looked away at the last second when her warm, sympathetic eyes began to bore into his cold, reclusive ones.

Sarila then looked to May sternly, still clutching her wrist as she spoke. "This is wrong. Why are we doing this?"

May quickly retracted her arm from Sarila's grip and gaped in shock and disbelief at the spirit before her who still held her ground. April, who Jack noted had an equally shocked expression, then stepped in and defended her sister.

"He," she gestured down to him with obvious disgust, "is a nuisance. A troublemaker. A mistake. You know the things he's done! How can you even think that he doesn't deserve this?!"

In response, Sarila looked down to him. Once she directed her gaze back down to him, Jack saw the glimmer of solicitude in her eyes fade as she seemingly searched her mind for at least one solid reason. Jack, or at least his eyes, pleaded with her own but to no avail. Before another second went by, she retreated with her arms uncomfortably hugging herself and turned away nonchalantly, unable to look at anyone before walking away. Jack stifled his betrayed expression; how could he expect any different from a spring spirit?

"Fine," she answered over her shoulder. "But don't expect me to join you."

And with that, the one they called Sarila vanished as she walked away, almost as if she had evaporated, now gone without a trace. Not that Jack cared. He was used to being abandoned by now.

Jack didn't even bother to look up at the other spring spirits as they turned their attention back to him. All he heard was April say something about how Sarila was useless, to which he agreed, and her threatening voice suddenly shift towards him.

"So, are you ready to get started, Jack Freakin' Frost?"

Before he could prepare, a hard kick was delivered to his chest. He immediately jerked into the spirits behind him and gasped roughly as he tensed in pain, his eyes now shut as he grimaced. His last thought before the next kick was a very accurate prediction of what was to come.

This is gonna hurt.

For nearly an hour and a half, these so-called spring spirits, the bringers of life, the Good Samaritans of the seasonal world, taunted and beat Jack senseless, leaving him sprawled on the ground and on the brink of blacking out. With the injuries he had sustained, he wished he had blacked out.

Aside from being left bloodied in some areas and bruised in others, he knew that he had a sprained left arm, and from what he could definitely feel every time he breathed, a few broken ribs. He speculated that more than a dozen painful bruises littered his body while it pulsated with intense soreness. On his face, he knew that he had some cuts and scrapes in addition to a painful black left eye that was currently the cause of his blurry vision. His upper lip throbbed from where he guessed it became swollen from being hit. However, the taste of blood had entered his mouth long before he realized it was because his lip had slightly been split.

Feeling something slush-like underneath his nose, Jack feebly wiped whatever it was off with the sleeve of his blue hoodie only to find the color crimson smeared onto it. After letting out a small groan of pain and grimacing once it had left his lungs, he let his right arm fall back onto the ground as he closed his fatigued eyes.

During this, Jack had the urge to smack his dry lips and somewhat swallow the awful taste of iron from his mouth but didn't. He knew it wouldn't really help; the spring spirits had left him dehydrated if his light headiness, dry mouth, fever, sweating, and the heat flashes they had put him through attested to anything.

At least it wasn't as bad as that one time he encountered a summer spirit. Jack involuntarily let out a sudden shiver at that thought.

Averting his thoughts from that terrible day, the winter spirit craned his head to the last place he saw his staff. He was surprised that it was still on the ground a few feet away from where he first fell from the sky, considering it a miracle that none of them had even touched his staff.

So, with his good arm outstretched and his sprained one tucked underneath him, he started to crawl towards his staff, wincing in pain every so often as he struggled against the thawing ground. Once the staff was in reach, he grasped it and immediately fell limp, his cheek landing on his upper arm as he lay there breathing and listening to the worrying of the Wind.

It hurt.

It really did.

As he lay there face down on his outstretched arm, his hand around his precious staff, the cold young teen did something he promised to never do again: cry. Only one tear rolled down his cheek, though, before freezing halfway.

At first, he had thought it was solely because of his pranks that everyone disliked him, but he soon found out that his pranks were only a part of the reason. The other part, was simply because he was a winter spirit. In the past, Jack had learned and reluctantly accepted the fact that winter was not meant to rejuvenate life like spring did, sustain it like summer did, or bring harvest like autumn did. No, winter was death; it was cold and unforgiving, but that still didn't stop him from trying to prove others wrong with fun snowball fights, sledding, ice-skating, and the like. But still, even if he had convinced another spirit that winter was also a fun season, they would eventually be reassured by their friends that winter was, in fact, the total opposite.

And Jack had known from the very first time he came into contact with other seasonal spirits that there was an unspoken rivalry and even hatred between the four types of seasonals, and being a winter spirit didn't provide him with the best position to say that winter was a fun season. In response, his claim must've really irked some seasonals, as he remembered some spring, summer, and autumn spirits bitterly began to share with him that winter was not supposed to be fun, that it was meant to kill the life that they, along with other nature spirits, maintained. However, even though he was a spirit of winter, Jack really didn't wish to harm or kill anything or anyone, but rumors, most likely started by the other seasonals, told everyone else otherwise.

The first rumor he had heard about himself was around 1875. The rumor claimed that any child he came across would have their nose nipped, thus giving them a bad case of frostbite, which was completely untrue! He only nipped the noses of people he thought were mean to children and never enough to give them frostbite. Of course, though, the rumor circulated and no one questioned the origin except for Jack. Soon, other rumors began to come into existence, causing more spirits to shun or even fear him completely instead of just ignoring his pranks. The rumors that followed the first were much worse, some claiming that he began to give hypothermia to children and others asserting that he even intentionally buried them alive under snow if they were lost in a snowstorm.

It was all out of his control.

I don't understand…

Why do these things happen to me?

I don't understand.

Why does everyone hate me?

I don't understand!

The single tear from earlier that broke free from the corner of his eye and froze halfway down his cheek remained there as he thought, never to complete its journey to the ground. Providing a light soothing breeze, Wind attempted to comfort the spirit as he lay there in sadness. It somewhat seemed to work as Jack held back a sob, holding the emotion in while berating himself in his mind.

Who has time for all of this self-pity? I have other problems to deal with anyways!

How was he going to fly to Antarctica now when he was this injured? Heck, how was he supposed to even get up? No one he knew would help get him back on his feet. No one cared besides Wind, of course. Jack knew, though, that he had to at least try to get up lest something worse were to come along and decide to take him up as a frosty punching bag again.

So, with his good arm, Jack readied himself to push his body up. With a lethargic and pained push, Jack lifted himself off the ground to face upwards, his aching back now to the ground as he looked to the clear blue sky above. A twinge of pain shot through his spine and to the sides of his torso where his broken ribs were housed, and the young spirit suddenly exhaled a gust of breath as pain overpowered his senses, making his vision blur further. Seeing this, Wind began to whirl around him with more worry.

Once he steadied his breathing and gathered his senses, Jack decided to give it another go, this time, finally pushing himself fully up into a sitting position. Afterwards, Wind seemed to tone her anxiety down to a soft, comforting breeze. Now, as he sat there with a slight wheeze, his blue eyes surveyed the scenery around him, and he puffed a breath upwards, causing a tuft of his silvery-white hair that had fallen over one of his eyes to move out of his line of sight. The warmth of spring had already thawed the frost that he had laid out earlier, and he had a feeling that he would be the next thing to thaw if he didn't get out of the warming area soon.

Suddenly, the Wind stopped and his bleary eyes frantically searched for the cause, the grip around his staff strengthening out of instinct. The moment that he snapped his head back to glance behind him was when he saw it.

A spring spirit.

Jack, who faltered at first, recovered quickly and immediately shot up into the air and onto a nearby tree limb with the help of Wind, ignoring the painful complaints from his body as he pointed his staff at the other spirit in case they dare to even threaten him. In that instant, icy-blue eyes seemed to thaw under the familiar gaze of a pair of light purplish-blue eyes.

It was Sarila, one of the spring spirits from earlier.

Anger consumed Jack and he lashed out, swinging his staff a single time to deliver an icy blast to the spring herald who was close to the tree he was currently standing in. The other spirit didn't even flinch, though, as when the ice attack neared her, it simply melted, much to Jack's surprise. Jack was about to try again when the spring spirit unexpectedly spoke in a non-threatening tone and he paused to listen.

"I know what you're thinking, but… I don't want to harm you."

Jack watched warily with narrowed eyes as the spirit held out her hands to somewhat reassure him of her supposed harmless intent. But Jack didn't buy it; in fact, he didn't even know what to think of this, and still held the same unbelieving stance, the Wind seemingly sharing his belief. After a while, Jack decided to speak, not letting his guard down, though, although his body begged him to just stop and rest there right on the spot.

"Is this a-a joke?" He asked, his voice slightly hoarse, with an incredulous tone that quickly turned into a mockingly-bitter one soon after. "What's wrong? Couldn't find any other winter spirits to beat up when you ditched your buddies so you came back here to finish what they started?"

The young spring spirit tensed slightly at the accusation but nonetheless kept the same reassuring form, a slight expression of guilt now present on her face.

"Please, I'm so sorry," she paused, looking down. "I didn't want this to happen, and I couldn't stop them… Please, you have to understand…" Her eyes suddenly developed some form of sadness as she looked back up at his beaten yet determinedly defensive form. She slowly began to step forward but was quickly stopped when Jack flourished his staff as a warning not to get too close. During this, his face adopted a bitterly-cold expression with a voice to match.

"What do you want then?"

From his vantage point on the branch, she looked as though he could freeze her with just his gaze as she stated her answer softly.

"I-I want to help you..."

Hoping to seemingly convince him further, she sat down on the ground, her eyes following his as she went down. This action, they both knew, would hinder the use of her powers because of the limited motion she now had as she finished her spiel.

"If you will allow me to…"

Jack inwardly scoffed at the spirit's futile attempt. She wanted him to trust her? Not in a million years. The way that she'd just nonchalantly left him to be tortured by her friends was not the ideal image of someone nice, let alone trustworthy in the slightest. Although his physical injuries would heal, he would be left with the scars of the emotional ones forever.

Scowling, Jack looked the spring spirit directly in the eye, his icy gaze portraying his anger towards her, before giving his final answer.

"No. I don't want you to help me. In fact, I want you as far away as possible from me! Now, if you 'will allow me to,' I would like to be left alone."

Without another word, Jack swiftly turned to leave, his offended and haughty state very apparent. Just as he was about to jump off the branch he was perched on and fly off with Wind, though, Jack suddenly grew lightheaded, his mind growing dizzy, and before he knew what was happening, he had lost his footing and fell from the branch.

His world was then consumed by darkness before he could even hit the ground.

When Jack woke up, both vision and mind even more blurred than before, he was flying above the clouds and soon realized that he was being carried by not only the Wind, but also by someone else. Because the familiar feeling of the wood was not present in either of his hands, Jack didn't worry too much about his beloved staff as he knew that whoever was carrying him must've had it, or at least he hoped so, otherwise they wouldn't be flying at all. Furthermore, whoever it was had their arm wrapped around his sore back and underneath his armpit in an attempt to hold him up as they flew, his head slumped against their shoulder—and whoever it was, was warm.

Carefully, without tilting his head, Jack shifted his eyes up to try and get a hazy glimpse of who exactly was carrying him. And, of course, it was that stupid spring spirit from before that just didn't know how to leave him alone—Sarila.

Jack promptly closed his eyes, eyebrows furrowing in frustration because he knew he couldn't do anything about her; he was far too weak. Jack should've known it was the persistent spring spirit carrying him by the way he felt like he was slowly melting, warmth practically encasing him ever since he had woken up; earlier, he had noted that her warmth was seemingly more powerful than the others' for some odd reason. As time passed, the warmth emanating from her body was becoming a little too much for his comfort, causing light perspiration, but he didn't have any energy to express it through words—his body was so sore and he was so weak that Jack doubted he could even move at all, let alone speak.

Abruptly, pain enveloped his lungs as Sarila shifted her hold on his back, unintentionally putting pressure on a tender spot, and he had to refrain from grimacing lest he wanted her to know that he was awake. After a moment, Jack silently recovered and thought about how his captor didn't even seem to notice his consciousness during the situation.

Wait, does she even know I'm awake at all? And why isn't Wind trying to help me get away from her?

Opening his eyes, the wintry teen observed that Wind didn't even try to help or save him. In fact, with uplifting breezes, she fully encouraged Sarila's efforts to keep carrying him, much to his displeasure.

Jack glowered at the air before shutting his icy-blue eyes yet again.

He was going to have to have a serious talk with Wind about allowing him to just be carried off by some stranger, let alone a freaking spring spirit who most likely was just carrying him off somewhere warm so she would have the upper hand when fighting him.

Just then, his heart suddenly jerked when it occurred to the frost spirit that he had no idea where the spring spirit was taking him. His bleary eyes shot open in anxiety, and he ignored the pain of his bruised eye as he scanned the area below without moving his head. It was too cloudy beneath them to really tell where they were at, but by the way Wind was getting louder and colder by the second, he assumed they were heading north and he somewhat relaxed, closing his eyes.

Suddenly, a very cold gust of Wind swept through the area surrounding them, causing Jack to involuntarily sigh in relief of the spring spirit's warmth as the cold encased him while it instantaneously elicited a shiver from Sarila who had brought Jack closer to her in response. By now, from how hot he felt, Jack assumed that he must've seemed like a heating blanket to her by the way she kept bringing him closer, much to his annoyance.

Jack then heard the spring herald murmur to herself, "This is as far as I can go…"

As if on cue, he felt as if they were slowly descending from the sky, and after opening his eyes barely enough to see, he saw that his speculation was true. Sarila began to fly lower and lower with him, past the clouds, until they finally reached the snowy ground of what Jack assumed to be a taiga forest in northern Québec or maybe even Ontario. He fully closed his eyes as she settled him onto his back in a nearly thigh-high snow bank which was next to a pine tree. He could feel Sarila shiver, her heart beating faster from the cold as she slightly retreated.

On the other hand, to Jack, the cold was just heavenly, to say the least.

By now, it had already refreshed him from Sarila's warmth and the sweat that was once present on his body was now gone, but Sarila's hold, however, was not; one of her hands was still glued onto his shoulder from where she had laid him down in the snow. Jack, who was still pretending to be unconscious, couldn't wait for the moment she would just let him go and leave now that she definitely could not fight him while he was in his own element—not that he could fight anyways since he was far too feeble at the moment, but he now had more advantages against her in this environment.

After a while, when her sweltering hand did not leave his shoulder, however, the winter spirit wanted to jump right out of her warm vicinity himself and leave, but physically just couldn't. He wanted so desperately to find the coldest, loneliest corner on Earth where he knew he would be safe and curl up in it. But here, in a snowy taiga somewhere in the north, he lay injured, weak, and vulnerable under the eyes of a spring spirit.

Oh, why can't she just leave me alone?!

Jack wanted to cry out and make a blizzard, to let all of his frustration, pain, and sorrow out, but couldn't—at least, not while he was still injured and definitely not while she was still there.

He was powerless.

Finally fed up, once he had felt the familiar form of his staff being placed onto his torso by the spring spirit, Jack finally opened his piercing icy-blue eyes and gave Sarila, who was looming cautiously above him as though he were under examination, his best death stare in hopes of thwarting her malicious intentions and revealing that he was, in fact, fully conscious.

Sarila was slightly startled at the sight of him suddenly opening his eyes but quickly recovered and donned a calm expression as she too began to stare him down, her hand still on his shoulder.

As their little staring contest continued, Sarila's expression remained as constant as an ever-flowing waterfall; Jack's never faltered either. In fact, as each second passed, his threatening scowl deepened, daring her to make the wrong move.

Granted, Jack knew that he couldn't fight in his current state, but if the spirit before him made the slightest move that indicated that she wanted to harm him, he could at least try to latch onto one of her arms and give her frostbite almost instantly, regardless of how warm she was; the cold surrounding them slowly fed his strength as time passed, making this attack easier. Maybe then, she would finally leave him alone to his own devices. Her soft, trust-yearning gaze, however, began to bore into his fiercely cold glare. Nonetheless, he refused to surrender, knowing that something was not quite right.

Then, without breaking eye contact, Sarila began to kneel down slowly next to where he lay as if not to alarm him. Jack then watched as the spring spirit reached over to his injured, limp arm, and after carefully pulling up his sleeve, began to examine it, much to the surprise of Jack who had instantly sneered at the action in protest as both of her unbearably warm hands were on him yet again, but he physically couldn't pull his arm away. After giving his sprained arm a sympathetic look, she directed the same look—that he had speculated was fake but was otherwise very convincing—to him before speaking.

"Please," she began, her purplish-blue eyes pleading. "Hold still…"

Jack did not like where this was going.

Snowflakes began to fall from the clouded sky.

Right after she spoke, Jack was left feeling incredulous; she couldn't possibly still believe he would trust her, right? The spirit before him was just like any other spring spirit he'd ever met—pompous, inconsiderate, and callous towards winter spirits, specifically the one called Jack Freakin' Frost that so happened to be himself. What made her any different? She didn't help him earlier so why is she acting like this now? Heck, she abandoned hi—

Suddenly, his angry contemplation was interrupted when she strengthened her grip on his sore arm, eliciting a suppressed whine from him as he grimaced in pain. When he opened his eyes, he silently cursed himself for becoming distracted in his thoughts when he saw Sarila pulling something from the side pocket of her dress with her free hand.

Jack, expecting the spirit to produce something harmful, tensed and started to struggle feebly and pull his arm from her grasp, his heart starting to race while he ignored her pleas to be still, his staff falling off his torso and onto the ground—snowflakes now falling frantically from the sky. It was a futile attempt, of course, but he had to at least try to do something lest he wanted to be in an even worse condition than he was already in. Just as he had gathered enough strength to lift his unrestrained arm up to administer a nice dose of frostbite to her, Jack turned his panic-stricken gaze back to what Sarila was pulling out of her pocket to see that it was just...bandages?

Jack's struggling ceased, and his body went limp as his eyes met back with the spring spirit's.

I don't understand.

Utterly perplexed by the spring spirit's actions, Jack gave her a confused look that traveled down to the bandages in her shivering hand. Did she seriously want to help him? Looking back up, Jack's eyes met with her soft purple-blue eyes, and they seemed to answer all of his questions through a sincere gaze as she refrained from shivering.

"I told you, I-I wanted to help. So, please… just be still, okay?"

Almost immediately, the snowflakes that were falling from the sky had stopped.

Jack was left speechless by this spirit twice in one day.

From the pure sincerity in her voice, Jack was convinced—she really did want to help him. The wintry teen had internally facepalmed in shame at the realization. She, a spring spirit who can easily be harmed by too much cold, had actually dragged him all the way north just to heal him. How could he have been so hostile towards the girl when all she really wanted to do was just help him? He had been so blind and foolish!

Without another thought, Jack exhaled a breath he didn't know he had been holding as he tiredly relaxed into the soft, welcoming snow bank beneath him, finally convinced that the spirit before him was good. Sarila seemed to get the message because as soon as he relaxed, she went to work, bandaging his sprained arm efficiently and gently without any trouble other than the occasional shiver. Jack, on the other hand, reveled and thrived in the cold, but he couldn't resist wincing every time she brushed over the tender areas of his swollen and bruised arm.

And there it was again—that same look of pity that she had given him earlier before everything had happened. It was fleeting, but Jack couldn't help but instantly recognize the look that had initially set her apart from the other spring spirits he had ever met.

In fact, as Sarila continued to work on his arm, his half-lidded eyes studied her features, and he realized that she was a lot more interesting than the others. For one, he had to admit that she was rather beautiful. He knew that all spring spirits were, though, with the whole "rejuvenating life" theme going on, they had to live up to expectations, of course. But she was different somehow.

Wavy, light brown hair cascaded past her petite shoulders, and her face was elegantly sharp but soft at the same time with common spring spirit features like a soft dainty turn-up nose, full pink lips, and warm rosy-cheeks—a characteristic that all winter spirits lacked. Her eyes, though, were not of a spring spirit's; they were of a flower—periwinkle, he decided, a flower that bloomed light purple-blue flowers for most of the year until winter came. They seemed to revel in kindness while she occupied herself with tending to his arm.

Without warning, her eyes flickered to his, and Jack immediately looked away, suddenly fascinated by his staff. He hoped that his blush, which usually tinted his skin a light purple-blue, wasn't as evident as it felt.

Sooner than he had expected, Sarila was finished bandaging his arm. And after he thought she was completely done with him, she unexpectedly grabbed the sides of his face, causing him to inhale a little out of shock as her hands were warm to the touch. Now, as she nonchalantly held the sides of his face gingerly, she inspected it a little too close for Jack's comfort but he complied nonetheless. Unsure of how to respond, though, he just held his breath, his crystal-blue eyes wide and avoiding as she scanned over his split lip, bloody nose, and black eye among the various scratches on his face. Then, while trying to stifle her shivering, Sarila spoke for the first time to him in what seemed like an eternity.

"These s-should heal up in about a week, so don't worry." She paused as she retreated, letting go of his face, before continuing. "I d-don't have any more bandages, but I'd be happy to see what else I can do to help. Do you hurt anywhere else?"

Almost immediately and without thinking, Jack shook his head "no" even if every time he breathed, searing pain shot through his ribcage. There was nothing she could do about his broken ribs, though, anyways other than look at them which would leave Jack feeling embarrassed if truth be told; old scars, and not to mention, the new scars and bruises that no doubt littered his torso now was not a welcoming sight, and he'd rather keep those things secret. Plus, it's not like he's never handled a few broken ribs before so why should he tell her?

Jack didn't remember much of what happened next during those fleeting moments, but he did remember when they had said goodbye.

"Well, goodbye and good luck," Sarila said softly before standing up, turning away, and beginning her walk that would prompt her to vanish like she had done earlier to someplace probably spring-like, her bare feet leaving footprints in the snow. Before she could leave, however, Jack found enough strength to push himself up with his good arm into a sitting position halfway.

He was grateful. Without a doubt, he really was. This spri-Sarila-had gone out of her way to help him. He knew that without her, he would probably still be in Burgess alone among other things. How could he not say something to her when they might never run into each other again?

"Thank you."

It came out raspier than he had expected, but it still did the trick as he saw Sarila immediately stiffen, completely stopping her in her tracks. Just when he thought she would stay frozen like that for all eternity, Sarila then turned to him, a warm modest smile on her face as her lively eyes met with his fatigued but grateful ones.

She promptly took hold of the skirt of her dress and curtsied slowly before responding.

"You're welcome."

The winter spirit smiled to which she did the same.

And with that, the spirit they called Sarila turned from him, walked away, and before he could capture a final image of her with his eyes, she evaporated into thin air—no doubt teleporting to whatever location she desired.

Jack sank back into the snowbank, closed his eyes, and let out a content sigh to which he grimaced to afterwards when his lungs experienced a twinge.

As the afternoon shifted into the evening, it took a while before the winter spirit realized his staff was still lying on the ground next to the snowbank he was reclining on. So, Jack carefully reached over to pick it up, and once he did, Wind was immediately in his ear about this and that, but his mind was somewhere else.

It was a rather strange occurrence, he had thought. A spring spirit helping a winter one.

Smiling, the wintry teen shut his tired eyes, letting his weariness engulf him, before relaxing back into his snowy bed and drifting into a deep sleep. ❅❆❅

Presently, as he lounged in the tree that he had decided to sleep in for the night, he thought about these things. About how his sprained arm was feeling better now that it was wrapped in a brace-like fashion. About how Sarila had helped him even though he completely resisted at first because of a thing she had nothing to do with. About how his ribs and bruises still hurt. About how the other spring spirits utterly hated his guts and what they had told him, their words forever stinging his mind. About how he could've avoided it all entirely if he had just migrated already. About how he came back to his lake because he was unsure of what to really do, and it was his home.

He slid his hand down his face as he sighed in discontent. Why? Why me?

The winter spirit turned his gaze up to the Moon longingly before closing his eyes after Wind had softly lulled him to sleep, completely unaware of the events that were soon to unfold.

All was quiet and calm as Jack slept.

Well, that was the case until, on the far side of Jack's lake, where the moonlight could not touch and shadows lived, something began to stir.

From the gloom, a tall sinister figure shrouded in darkness stepped into the light, still managing, however, to somehow avoid the moon's bright rays. Around him, creatures of what seemed to be composed of black sand transformed and morphed into the forms of monstrous horses. Once fully formed, the group of dark, menacing horses began to neigh malignantly, their appearance utterly nightmarish.

The man they were standing next to had an equally nightmarish atmosphere surrounding him, his eerie appearance consisting almost entirely of monochrome with the exception of the eclipse-like irises of his silver-gold eyes. Suddenly, the man shifted his attention from the horses to the Moon and began to speak, a dark smirk on his lips.

"So, this," he gestured to the winter spirit's sleeping form, "is the infamous Jack Frost I've heard so much about. Y'know, rumors really seem to do the trick when it comes to feeding the fear and hate that people have for someone."

The man then laughed knowingly, and with a wave of his hand, signaled the ghastly horses to charge towards the sleeping frost child. The instant that the horses came into contact with Jack, they burst into a swirling, malicious mass over his head, a dark image soon forming in its place, much to the cruel delight of the man. The Moon, on the other hand, seemed to dim as he witnessed the winter spirit's peaceful slumber become plagued with nightmares.

"Don't look at me like that, old friend. You must have known this day would come," the derisive man commented. There was a pause before he spoke again.

"My Nightmares are finally ready. Are your Guardians?"

In the distance, tendrils of golden sand could be seen as they began to glide through the sky and enter the rooms of sleeping children through their windows, filling their slumber with sweet dreams. The nightmarish man sneered slightly in disgust as he narrowed his eyes at the Dreamsand that was slowly approaching. He backed away from it as it floated by him, reaching Jack Frost's sleeping form before turning the black sand of his nightmare into the shimmering golden sand of a dream, the image of children having a snowball fight appearing above his head. The dark figure glared hatefully at the sleeping winter spirit after he smiled contently in his slumber.

"As for Jack Frost," he hissed to the Moon, his voice softening into a mocking tone, "I would turn him against you and the Guardians, but it seems you've already done that for me."

He knowingly smirked at the silent Moon as it dimmed in response before he retreated back into the shadows, leaving only the sound of the Wind howling in distress.

A/N:

AHHHHHHHHH! That was a really long chapter, and it took forever to finish, but I really hope you enjoyed it! Did ya see what I did there at the end with the Dreamsand? Guess who Jack is meeting in the next chapter, hehe. As a side note, you might have many questions but don't worry, they'll most likely be answered as the story progresses. Nonetheless, feel free to ask me anything! Also, please let me know if you liked my OCs, specifically Sarila since she will appear again in more detail for a reason that I cannot disclose to anyone, MWHAHAHA! Feel free to give me any type of feedback—it's always appreciated! Also, I am busy next week, and I won't have access to my computer so I will not be able to post at all next week and for that I am sorry. Thanks for your support, and until next time, bye!