Perfect Match (Jack frost x Little Match Girl)

Prologue

The young girl sat beneath a tree she had wandered to, her family was lost, it had been her seventh birthday that year. The orphanage was only able to keep her until tonight, which was her sixteenth birthday, and sent her on her way. She was thrown in to the snow. She'd begged them to keep her, but they slapped her for begging, and refused. Her bottom lip trickled a thin line of blood down her chin. She continually wiped at it, but it continued to trickle. She had wandered through the snow covered woodland bare foot and cold. Snow covered the ground beneath her bare feet. Her torn Black shawl didn't provide much warmth. Her bare feet and hands were numb from the cold, her nose, and face too. She needed to find warmth fast, that she knew. So, she took out her box of matches. That was all she had left tying her to her family. They also were the only thing that would provide her warmth during the cold night. She had grown tired from wandering through the woods and could no longer continue walking, so she stopped where she was, and Sat underneath the tree. Opening the box of matches she counted five. She gathered a bunch of branches into a pile and attempted to light two of the five, but they didn't allow it, so she tossed them away. She finally was able to light one as she shivered from the cold. The lit match was placed on the branches, igniting a small fire. She started to feel drowsy, but she knew she couldn't fall asleep, or she'd never wake. She shivered from the cold and placed her hands above the small fire. First match: She imagined a warm Fireplace, which brought her the warmth she longed to have again. The match burnt out, bringing with it the small fire, and the cold immediately replaced any and all warmth she had felt a moment before. Her stomach growled from hunger. She lit the second match and placed it onto the wood. A yawn escaped her. Her body was tired and wanted her to sleep. She shook away the drowsiness. Second match: she imagined a feast, with all of her favorite foods. The match burnt out along with the small fire. The girl picked up the last match, knowing this was her last hope in staying warm. An image of her mother's smile flooded her mind and she lit the last match, throwing it into the branches. Third match: she imagined Christmas morning, when she had run down the stairs to see all the presents under the tree, her mother softly called for her, and she ran into her mother's awaiting arms. This match kept the fire going a bit longer and the girl was unable to stay awake any longer, her eyes fluttered closed. She dreamed of the last holiday her and her family had, her parents' smiling faces, her grandma's laughter, every thing had been happy then. The girl's breathing began to slow until she finally stopped entirely. The now empty match box, fell from her hand, into the White snow...