Frost

The first time I met Jack Frost, I was eight years old and lost in the snowy woods.
He took my hand and leapt into the air, soaring high above the treetops. Carrying me to safety. He disappeared afterward, leaving me with nothing but a memory.

Nineteen years later, I've convinced myself Jack was only a dream.

So why can't I forget him? He's so vivid in my mind, silver hair and a mischievous gleam in his wintery blue eyes. Sometimes I can even recall the sound of his voice as he said my name. There's only one way to get answers… to return to the woods where I first dreamed of him.

What I find there is more than I ever imagined.