One of the few things he remembered before emerging from a frozen lake was his name: Jack Frost. The Moon had told him, though it was the only thing it had said. He'd discovered he could control snow, and use the wind to fly with a simple, long, curved staff. He'd enjoyed himself, creating ice rinks and moving at incredible speeds. Then, upon visiting a small village outside the snowy forest, he realized something was wrong. No one could see him; he was like a ghost.

Days had passed since that discovery, and he'd resigned himself to being alone, as the Moon didn't seem inclined to speak to him again. He could interact with the world and people, playing small, innocent pranks and occasionally amusing children with snowy days. However, he only had his staff and his shadow for company in that small valley with the frozen lake, majestic pine trees separating him from the village a few kilometers away.

One night, however, as he sat distractedly twirling snowflakes in the wind, he heard a noise. He instinctively looked up, staring in the direction the sound came from. He gripped his staff and, elegantly gliding on the ice barefoot, made his way through the trees. Every now and then, his worn cloak would get caught for a few seconds on branches, or his ice-colored hair would be stirred by the wind.

It was then that he saw that in a small clearing among the trees there was—and he was sure of it—a person. He could clearly see a human silhouette. He approached, without worrying about being seen, trying to study you more clearly up close.

"What are you doing out here at this hour?" he muttered distractedly to himself, not thinking you could hear him. He was naturally surprised when you turned around after hearing his voice. "Woah, you hear me? You see me?" he exclaimed, ecstatic at the idea that someone actually could.

A gust of wind lifted him a few centimeters, making him flutter around you as he continued to observe you from head to toe, a smile on his lips. "Who are you? Or what are you?" he asked, relieved, stopping in front of you and leaning on his staff.