Aster was sitting with his good friend Nicholas, the toy maker when he heard it. A sound that was like a rushing whip of wind passing by tinkling bells blowing snow with it. It was a pleasant melody and he paused in his painting, brush held over the wooden soldier. His head snapped up and a flash of silver and blue flashed by the window.

Then it was gone.

"My friend?"

Aster looked up to see Nicholas staring at him in concern, brows furrowed in concentration. At him.

Aster smiled, "Oh it's nothin' mate, jus' thought I heard somethin'."

Nicholas smiles back, white beard moving with his lips, eyes sparkling in jolly content.

"I must thank you, my friend, for helping me." Nicholas says, eyes looking back down at the metal train he was constructing.

Aster looks back down at the wooden figure, jacket partially painted red, "Ah, no problem mate. It's gettin' colder 'n the flowers are wiltin'. Not as much to do 'n the ol' garden."

Nicholas grunts, "That's a shame, my friend."

Aster smiles, "No worries mate. They'll be back 'n the spring."

Ol' Nick flashes a smile at him, "I look forward to it comrade."

Aster walks back in the chill of winter. Was that what the sound was? Winter and snow? Frost and silver bells? Was it the season?

Aster grunts and heaves his pack back on his shoulder. He didn't like the winter, yes snow was beautiful and hot chocolate delicious, but the cold killed his garden and wilted his flowers, and his chicken's never laid as many eggs when their coop was frosted.

Suddenly a snowball hit him in the back of his head, cold slush ran down his jacket as it melted against his skin. Spinning on his heel he looked but there was no one there. Even stranger, there was no snow on the ground.

Something cold touched his nose and he scrunched it and shook his head. Looking up he saw grey clouds and a few white flakes float slowly to the ground.
Strange, he thought.

Touching his fingers against the back of his head he felt his damp hair but there was no snow, no slush.

Strange indeed.

A flash of silver and a laugh. Turning quickly, ashy grey hair whipping in the air he saw nothing but the streets and the falling snow. Hearing the laughter again he whipped his head the other way, and -

There! By the dirt path in the alleyway between the old wood sweet shop that sold the best ice cream and a tall bleak apartment building stood a child with glittering white hair.

Aster blinked, but the the child ran, seemingly carried by the wind, a small flurry of snow blowing behind him. Aster cursed and chased after him, running through the dust and over the debris and rubble that increased as he entered the woods. He stopped when the path ended and the trees thickened. A giggle and a flash of that wintry hair had him turning his head and he saw frost like a handprint on a tree. Approaching it he placed his own hand over it and shivered, pulling away quickly.

Looking forward he saw another tree with another frost print, then another. Following the path about ten trees, it ended but he heard the laugh and saw the kid standing across from him. Growling he rushes forward and stumbles over a bush and into a pond, a very cold pond.

"Ah shite!" he shouts, stumbling backwards onto dry land.

The wind blows, a flurry of snowflakes and a giggle. Looking up the child's gone. Cursing he turns and trudges home, the bottom of his pants and boots soaked.

Aster sighs as he slips into the warm bath, wiggling his toes in the steaming water as he regains feeling pinprick by pinprick. Sinking in the soothing water he let's tension roll off his shoulders.

His mind brings up an image of the strange kid, he couldn't be any younger than fifteen maybe fourteen, and he couldn't have been older than seventeen. His face had a grin of mischief and his eyes had that twinkle of youth and joy that was only seen in children and North.

Who are you? he wonders.

The child looked a tiny bit familiar but he was sure he had never seen the child before. Not with his white hair or silver blue eyes.

How strange.

A chill blows through and Aster's thoughts turn to if he closed the small bathroom window. Something freezing touches his nose and it's such a cold shock he opens his eyes.

Silvery blue one's peer back curiously.

Aster's green eyes widen and he startles with a curse, hands moving to grip the side of the tub and once he was sitting up without slipping, they shoot to cover his crotch.

"Cripes! What the hell are you doin' in 'ere?" he shouts.

The kid grins and snickers, eyes closing and without a word he opens the door and slips out of the bathroom.

Aster is frozen for a few seconds after the door clicks shut. Then with a few muttered curses he sloshes out of the tub, slipping into the chilled air. Grabbing a towel and wrapping it around his waist he hurries into the rest of his house.

His bedroom was devoid of white haired boys and he sighed in relief as he quickly dressed. Putting on his shirt he glanced at his window and paused.

His mirror was frosted and a finger had traced words in the lace like ice.

Jack Frost

Aster growled and exited his bedroom, running down the hall he found nothing and the air was a pleasantly heated temperature, fire roaring in the mantle.

Sighing, he knew the child was gone.

Turning back to drain the tub he glanced at the mirror.

The frost was gone.

That night a pale face danced in his dreams and a chill caused goose bumps on his skin.

That night the snow fell and the moon shone down on a little pond in the woods.