CHAPTER 2 – THE WOMAN ON THE MOUNTAIN TOP

Jack Frost yanked off his favorite cloak from where it was hanging, then rummaged through his giant closet. He found winter headgear and a muffler which he kept aside. He then took out his royal blue boots. Scoffing at the intricate gold threaded designs on the boots, he flung them away, where they landed at the feet of Hades. "Packing up, boy?" he said, flexing his body and looking down at him. Jack Frost's eyes narrowed, but he kept mute. Hades kicked the shoes to the side, and came in the room, standing in front of Jack Frost who was on his knees. Jack Frost stood, and even though Hades towered above him, he kept his head up, meeting his eyes.

"It is about time. I was already tired of keeping up with your annoying cold," Hades added and smirked. Jack Frost just sighed lightly. "It is sure sad to see you go," he added, mockery lacing his tone. " You are such a cute flower. But this is not a garden. This is not your place." "Sure, sure. I know that already," Jack Frost replied. "So, Hades, it would do you good to take the remaining respect I have left for you, and all the other gods of Olympus, and walk out of my sight." Hades’ eyes bulged with anger, his neck muscles tense with the force he was applying on his lower jaw. "Impudent bastard." Jack Frost laughed. "I guess you should take that particular complaint to Zeus. He should know better, should he not?" Hades clenched his fist, trying hard not to swat the annoying bug in front of him. "He is not your father." "Hmm, but he adopted me, did he not? I cannot be a bastard till the day he dies. You want to cut his immortality, Hades? Already? When did you leave your imprisonment in the underworld again?"

Hades was reaching his breaking point now, and his knuckles had turned white from all the clenching. Jack Frost smiled, first at Hades, then at Zeus who was standing by the door, pale. He then grabbed his cloak, muffler, headgear and, from an old wooden box under his bed, a pair of worn-out boots, and stormed out of the palace, leaving the two god brothers staring at each other, uncertain.

The snow was wild, just like his anger, and he waded through it with relative ease, pushing his hands in his pockets and climbing higher. When he reached the peak, he stood, his eyes squinted against the snowstorm his own emotions were causing, and stared down at Olympus, his mind reeling with images of everyone and everything that had made him hate it there. So engrossed in his own thoughts, he didn’t notice someone pull up beside him with much difficulty, breathing hard. "Jack Frost must be angry," the female voice said passively, and since she made no indication of referring to him, he kept quiet, observing the scenery before him.

"Mister, you are a traveler, are you not? It’s cold out here. You must be cold. I am cold too," she said and chuckled at her own gibberish. There was silence for a little while before she spoke again. "Are you lost? What are you doing out here?" "Breathing," he said curtly, and she looked rather surprised, before she pressed further. "You can breathe anywhere; it doesn’t have to be in this freezing cold." He lowered his head for a moment. "Where I come from, you cannot breathe there. It is way too suffocating," he said, and he meant it in more ways than she would ever know. She nodded, before straightening her dress. "Let us sit. Our behinds may turn to ice, but I am way too tired to stand." He chuckled, humor dancing in his eyes, and the snowstorm reduced.

"Oh look. Angry Jack Frost must have gone to bed," she said as she adjusted her legs under her dress. He sat next to her. "What made you say so?" She shrugged. "The snowstorm reduced. That means he has gone to bed and is sleeping peacefully." He studied her face. "If Jack Frost sleeps angry, the world as we know it would be covered in snow come morn." "No, I don’t think so," she said, shaking her head. "When you sleep, you feel nothing. And all, I mean, all emotions, negative or positive are non-existent for that short while. So, when I feel really bad, I sleep. Because sleep heals it temporarily; time heals it permanently," she finished calmly, one finger drawing patterns on the snow. He nodded and gave her a polite smile.

"What is your name, traveler?" she asked, looking up at his facial features. But even Apollo would not recognize him this way. "Well... my name… my name is Jack." "Wow, you are Jack Frost's namesake," she said, laughing. "Do tell your namesake to stop being so angry all the time, will you?" he nodded, chuckling, and she smiled. "What is your name, my lady?" "Althaia" she replied. "Althaia." The name rolled off his tongue like honey, and she nodded at his pronunciation. "I have to go now, Jack. My father awaits. Where do you live? You can come with us." He shook his head. "There is no need for that, Althaia. I will do just fine." She smiled, showing her dimples, or maybe it was just the first time he noticed them. Honestly, he wouldn't be able to recognize her face if he saw her somewhere else. "Lest I forget, Jack. You have a really nice voice." He smiled. "Thank you, Althaia. I will remember you." "Please do," she said curtly and started to make her way down, trudging slowly, and turning only when she had reached the bottom. She waved, and he waved back before she turned and was soon out of sight. He sighed, the sadness that had subsided a bit returned with his loneliness. He lay on his back, staring at the sky, willing himself to sleep. "The sleep would take it away temporarily." He could use that temporary bliss right now.