Short Stories: Frostcup Oneshots

Hope is a four letter word - ONESHOT

(This One Shot is and dedicated to toothlesstardis. I hope you like it! Requests are always accepted. It also feels nice to write for this book again, so you may see some new stories soon.)

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Hope was a four-letter word that was cold and white like snow. The cold from hope was when it faded, leaving you empty. The white, well, that's a different story that has more purpose. So, let me tell you why.

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I stuffed my hands under my fur vest, hiding them from the cold that was nipping at my fingers. I let out a shaky breath that puffed out in a cloud of smoke. "Gods," I whispered through clicking teeth and frozen lips, "some people lose their knife in the mud but I manage to lose an entire dragon, again?!"

The first time I lost him, it was when he wasn't mine and I tried to kill him out of my false pride for my Viking culture, yet, little did I know, my pride was just masking the kid that was underneath. This time I lost Toothless by keeping the window open just a smidge and he slithered out sometime in the night.

I huffed and curled into myself, shaking like a dragon facing a giant eel. I could feel devastating winter setting in and I was getting caught in the middle of it. I sunk down to my knees and hugged myself, "Why did you run away now Toothless? You're killing me."

The wind was picking up and I sniffled up my runny nose, looking around at the barren white land. It was when the cold settled into my bones did I finally give up hope on ever finding my friend again.

I quietly whimpered and laid on my back, my arms and legs outstretched in the snow that was starting to pile up over me.

Snowflakes got in my eyes and I kept blinking them away, watching the snow fall through the naked branches and down upon me. I never knew that my grave would be one of snow. At least it would be quiet.

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Eventually, I woke up again and I wasn't looking up at my blanket of snow or the tree's. Instead I was looking up at a glossy rock ceiling with an amber tint to it. I felt the heat to my left and I glanced over at it, a fire blazing. I narrowed my eyes and began to sit up.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

I turned towards the mouth of the cave where to voice echoed from. I stared at the back of a head full of white hair that stood up like icicles. I frowned and looked over his frosted blue attire and brown pants, a staff laying in his lap. 

"Who are you? A-And where am I?" I asked, my voice still shaky from the cold still seeping in. The boy turned to look at me, his eyes a sky blue and his skin a pale comparison to his hair framing his face. 

"I'm Jack Frost. You called me to you when you were on the verge of no hope. And, this here? This is the nearest cave I could find so I could save you." 

I let out a humorless laugh and laid back down, shaking my head. "That's a good one, a folk tale saved me." 

'Jack' got up and walked over, looking down at me with a gleam in his eyes that only meant trouble. "Well you see me so this folk tale is real." He raised his staff and poked my stomach with it, a cold feeling rushing through me before quickly fading.                                     

"Take it easy will ya? You won't get any better if you fight. Now, get closer to the fire, you were almost blue when I found you."

As Jack turned and walked back to the mouth of the cave I did what he asked, curling up beside the fire and watching him out of curiosity. I noticed that he was standing close to the biting cold winds, his snow-white hair a blur, and he wasn't bothered by it. He closed his eyes to enjoy the feeling.