A dolphin broke his head through the water to see Plymouth beach. As his vision cleared, he saw the skinny boy again. The boy who'd watched him from the beach the last two nights. Tonight he would teach him how to swim. The dolphin's tailfins beat up and down. "Come on in! The water's fine!" The singing, dolphin voice chimed.
Jack Frost crouched on the beach, his toes steeped in the sand. He left the land, flew low, the dolphin seen, just below. The dolphin squealed at the sight; he leapt, hit Jack's feet with his dorsal fin, and shook some water onto his skin. Jack laughed, and followed along, just above the dolphin's long wake. The dolphin swam down, far down, 'till Jack couldn't see him, even with a frown. The dolphin emerged, with flips of joy, and called Jack again to come and play.
Jack wasn't sure, he'd tried before; the water he might abhor. A fear from where Jack did not know, at the sight of water would always show. He untied his shirt and cape and heaved them toward Cape Cod, a gust of wind ensured their arrival on the sod. It was time: he clutched his shepherd's crook as his toe touched the water and he shook. Like before, the water froze, suddenly ordered in that pose. The dolphin thumped underneath the ice and Jack's actions would not suffice. Jack must learn to dive and play: fear shouldn't keep the boy away. Jack excelled in snowball fights, but when it came to something hotter, he was metaphorically knee deep in water.
Under the ice, the dolphin swam, moving away from the land. Jack followed, upon the solid waves, to the part yet unpaved. The water swirled at the edge, the dolphin chirruping out his pledge, "Come on in! The water's fine!"
Breath held, hands over his head, Jack Frost dove, dispelling his dread.
Immersed in this different world, around Jack's hair the water curled. The swirling water round his hands, swayed by twirling dolphin bands. The water did not feel cold to him, not when he stayed with them. Jack opened his eyes, seeing a dolphin of his size, viewing fish with bold surmise. The sun's setting rays beamed through the water, creating rays of light that fear can't cauter. The dolphin nudged his shin and Jack grasped at its fin.
The dolphin pulled him forward through his home. A burst of air, the flowing breeze, blustered at them with ease.
The dolphin was glad the boy had not frozen the water this time, he brought the boy to the surface for a quick breath of air and soon they were traversing the Cape. The dolphin grinned at the boy's wonder as the dolphin brought him to see crabs, lobsters, sea turtles, barnacles, and rays.
Soon Jack stood in the shallows, the water rippling at his elbows. The dolphin and Jack splashed each other in a contest. Jack's big hands were no match for the dolphin's powerful fins. That didn't matter. What mattered was that the dolphin saw him. It was way better than throwing snowballs at confused bystanders.
Sometimes other animals could see Jack Frost as well, but dolphins always could, and their playful attitude reinforced Jack and made him stronger. Eventually, they moved into his dreams so that no matter where he was, from Siberia to the Great Plains, he would always remember their joy. Still, dreams were not enough, and Jack returned year after year to the Cape to play with his friends.
Until the year he became a Guardian.
Jack Frost sat on the end of the moonlit pier as two of the dolphins gazed up at his fear. Memories laden in his eyes, accompanied by dolphin cries. The dolphins' smiling faces cocked, they waited to hear his talk. He might whistle back to them, even if it was only a hymn. One of them leapt playfully, squealing for him to dive in faithfully. The other batted his foot with its head, dragging his toes through the water, pulling back when Jack's foot jerked involuntarily. He didn't feel like swimming anymore.
