Saving Time

Discovered

I crouched beneath the spreading roots of my grand tree, peering through the gaps in the roots. It was cold, bitter cold outside, but I had my shoes off anyways and had been earlier lying like an X on the ground. Tiny bits of white snow drifted from the sky, and I pulled them from the air. They spun in tiny eddies around my finger.

The winter months had always been my favorite, but I had seen their consequence during the Ice Ages, so I usually let them be.

The one disadvantage to snow had come during early colonial times. Jack Frost. Always messing with my weather, giving children snow days and playing games with my planned-ahead, perfectly calculated weather.

The snow currently drifting from the sky was not my doing, but it was a relief from the rain that had been pelting from the sky earlier. I'd let Jack do the job this time.

But I'd still have to keep an eye out. I didn't want any Guardians finding me today.

CRACK! Ice snapped behind me. I jumped up and whipped around, running on my toes to the other side of my tree. I shrunk into its shadows as I saw Jack , scuffing his feet on the frozen pond's surface.

Suddenly, he swung his staff up and around his head before slamming it into the ice. I jumped back, surprised at his anger, and ran smack into the other side of my tree.

"Ah!" I couldn't stop myself from exclaiming as I hit my head. Then I swore, because Jack was now staring straight at my tree.

"Who's there?" He was walking towards me, picking up speed. I was terrified. The Guardians didn't know me- and I didn't want them to.

Panting, I launched myself into the air. Without bothering to unfold my wings, I flew to a high ledge in the wood and landed. I could hear Jack walking through the snow, a sound no more than a whisper.

"Hello?" I flinched as I realized that his voice, along with him were in my tree. "Hello? Is anybody there?" Jack's hair rustled, and I think he looked up. The wind whistled, carrying him to the ledge. The ledge where I lay hidden, under a pile of ivy.

"Wow..." I heard him breathe as he looked around my house-tree. My bed, lying on the floor near me, was a simple block of wood, filled with pores and cracks. It was springy, like moss, and had a horse-mane woven blanket. The blanket took only a day to make, but trying to get the hairs off the horses without bothering them took longer. Of course, they couldn't feel it when you plucked the hair, so I hadn't hurt them. Actually, most of the blanket was donated by the horses in thanks.

Next to my bed was a tiny wooden table growing out of the tree. On it was a tiny miniature of North's globe, a smaller flower, and my journal. Which was lying open.

I squeezed my eyes shut as Jack approached the table, hand outstretched.

He grabbed the journal, and I jumped up. All my secrets, my identity, it was all hidden in that book.

"Put it down, Frost," I said, sounding cold. Although that wasn't my intention, it got his attention well enough. He tossed down the journal and held his staff in front of him, aiming it at me.

"Who are you?" His voice quivered, but he was not afraid, I could tell.

"Why should I tell you?" I raised one eyebrow. I knew what I looked like- myself. Mother Nature, a girl tossed between the guardians and her father, a dark presence with an uncontrollable but pleasant soul.

"I'm not afraid to use this," he cautioned.

"And I'm SNOW scared," I chuckled. His cheeks flushed a light red, ever pale.

"I'm serious," he was starting to look agitated.

"But I'm not. And the Guardian of fun shouldn't be either," I flopped out onto my bed. "Now get out of my house. You have no business here."

Jack paused, and I could see the thoughts flitting across his eyes: Who is this girl? Why is she so... Cold, when she obviously wasn't meant to be? How long has she known about the guardians? He decided on a gentler approach.

"Really, who are you?" he said softly. "Why can you... SEE me?" And then I remembered that this was Jack Frost, a teenage boy seen by nobody and loved by few, and I blinked. I could see the light in the room soften, become a gentler tone. So I asked a question.

"Do you really want to know the story of Pitch's daughter?"

And he gasped.