It was the dead of winter, as her mother called it, when Kyra first met the frozen boy.
       Her mother and her mother's boyfriend Ralph had been muttering about the storm for days, but when it came down and smothered the roads, their voices turned piercing and loud. At sunset, as fluffy drifts piled up outside the cabin windows, she wiggled her loose tooth.
       My snow fort. She tasted iron on her tongue. My snowman. Are they buried now?
       Kyra watched tiny dots of ruby red bloom on her pajamas. This would be her third lost tooth--a milestone, her mother said, because three was a magical number. She bounced her heels against the couch, smelling whiffs of old cigarette smoke puff up from the cushions. Her feet felt like cold stones in her damp socks. She stared at her thick turquoise parka dripping on a hook as Ralph tied the dental floss attached to her tooth to the closet doorknob. He gave her a fierce smile. The bare bulb in the hallway made Ralph's eyes disappear like black holes as he whistled through his teeth.
       "Honey," her mother said to Ralph. She was perched on a faded blue stool with crossed legs, her dark hair tied back. Her foot shook like an anxious puppy. "Ralph. Is it absolutely necessary--"
       "Will you relax?" Ralph glowered. "Just--relax."
       "We're late getting back. My mother--"
       "Forget your mother! Have you looked outside? You wanna go out in that frickin' storm?" He didn't say frickin'. He used that other word kids weren't supposed to use. "It doesn't always have to be your way, you know!"
       Kyra stared at the doorknob, trying not to breathe.
       "I know, honey." Her mother's low voice made her stomach squeeze like a fist.
       Ralph had said it would be a relief to have the tooth out, but Kyra wasn't so sure. She glanced at her mother, trying to send her a message, but her mother's eyes were on Ralph.
       The sharp pain exploded in her mouth. She screamed. Warmth flowed from her lips. Ralph was bellowing, her mother shrieking, and her pajamas were spattered red. Hot tears poured down her face as she leapt off the couch and ran out the back door, sobbing. Passing the boarded-up well, the droopy pine tree, the red barn, she pounded into the forest, her fuzzy socks padding through crunchy snow. She could still hear Ralph bellowing as she ran, the sharp-scented branches whipping her cheeks, leaving crimson dots like breadcrumbs behind her.
       All the world was light blue drifts and dark blue shadows. An owl hooted above her as she pushed through the frozen branches. I want to find my snowman. My fort. The ground caved, and she slid down through ice and muck, her numbed heels finally stopping her fall. She looked up, reaching for a gnarled tree-root sticking out of the snow like a witch's finger, but it was too far away. She listened for her mother's voice, but everything was silent.
       She shivered. Without her boots and coat, her arms and feet seemed to disappear. She listened to her chest rattle. She thought about calling out, but she didn't want to see Ralph's blotchy face, hear him scream at her for crying. So, she waited. She thought about all the stories about children lost in the woods. She tried not to think about Hansel and Gretel and the witch. It's too cold for witches, she told herself, closing her eyes, her teeth rattling in her skull.
       The shadows were dark purple by the time the boy sat down beside her. Her body wasn't shaking anymore. Instead, she felt strangely warm. Her eyes were closed, but she felt the ice crunch, heard a strange sort of humming. After a minute, the humming became quiet singing.

       "What does that mean?" She opened her eyes.
       The boy was frowning, deep in thought.
       "I'm not sure," he said. "It has something to do with the seasons."
       The boy looked at her, and she caught her breath. The night's blue-black made it hard to see, but she thought she could see through the boy to the trees. His outline suggested stiff tufts of hair, a narrow chin, thick arched eyebrows. He didn't seem to have any color besides glass-blue.
       "You're bleeding," the glass-blue boy said. "May I?"
       She felt a cool pressure on her gums, and the pain ebbed a bit.
       "Better?"
       "Yes. Thanks." She sniffled.
       "You're very cold. You've stopped shivering--that's bad."
       "I feel warm." A lazy smile drifted across her face.
       The boy nodded. "That's the problem." He dusted off his nearly-invisible hands. "Better get up now. I'll help you find your way back."
       "Don't want to go back." This was true. She watched the boy stand and flit away from her like a shadow, returning before she could blink. She could feel his eyes on her, deep with concern. With effort, she pushed herself out of the ice and tried to walk.
       His hand on her elbow was so cold it felt hot. She shivered and stumbled, but the frozen boy helped her. As she wobbled through the ice, she thought of her mother helping her walk when she fell off the big, curvy slide at the playground.
       That's what Mom does, she thought drowsily. When Ralph's not around. She helps me.
        She found the red dots, and then, the wide-open cabin door. She called for her mother, but nobody answered. She turned back to the boy who was lingering beneath the old, drooping pine tree. His eyes flicked nervously, and his legs seemed to fade. She blinked. She noticed how his hair dripped like tiny icicles over his forehead as if he were soaking wet.
       "My mom has hot cocoa." She swayed on her feet. "Want to come in?" She hoped he would, so she wouldn't be alone when Ralph came back. She couldn't feel her toes or fingers.
       The boy shook his head and backed away. "Can't," he said. He stared longingly past her, as if memorizing the smelly couch cushions, the faint glow of the woodstove.
       She dozed on the couch until she woke to the shrill cries of her mother.

       Ten years later, Kyra felt Todd's hand press against her leg as his truck bumped along the gravel road. She peered into the passenger side mirror to see Felix whispering in Celia's ear. Celia's giggles and snorts reminded her of her parakeet's chirps, persistent and startling.
       "Pull in here!" Kyra said, shifting her knee away from Todd. Felix's best friend was alright, but he wasn't Felix. She felt goosebumps rise along her arms as the red-shingled cabin appeared beyond the white fence. It was smaller and more dilapidated than she remembered. Just off the porch, she saw steam rising from the small, natural hot spring. There was the sagging pine tree, the fire pit, the old red barn. The smell of new snow hit her as her friends flung open the truck doors, spilling out into the frigid air with curses and groans.
       "I'll get the firewood!" Todd clumped his boots on the ground and turned to her. "Wanna come?"
       Kyra shook her head. "You go ahead. I'm going to take a look around."
       Todd's thick brows furrowed. Huffing, he collected his hatchet from the back of the truck and strode off.
       Her breath puffing out in small clouds, she peered down at the pine needle-strewn ground--looking for a trail of gleaming red dots, though she knew that was a ridiculous idea. She pulled her duffel bag out of the back seat as Felix and Celia stumbled away to the cabin with clasped hands, whispering, barely glancing at her. Wiggling her eight toes within her boots, she thought about that freezing night when she lost one from each foot. She wrapped her scarf around her and wandered to the boarded-up well, halting when Celia came out.
       "What?" She shifted her gaze to Celia's innocent sapphire eyes.
       "You okay?"
       "Sure." Not at all, really. "I'm great!" She dredged up a smile.
       "Oh, don't forget the pizza fixins. Can you grab those bags?" Celia squealed as Felix kissed her neck. "Oh shit. Do they even have a fridge here?"
       "Yeah, there's a fridge." I already said that, like, twice.
       "How about an oven? Oh! Can you make pizza over a campfire?"
       I doubt it. "Maybe?"
       She glanced at the firepit so she wouldn't have to see what Felix was doing to Celia's ear with his tongue. She flicked pine needles off the plywood covering the well, pretending to be interested in the splintery wood. She grabbed the old, rusted chain, gave it a half-hearted pull as the front door slammed behind her.
       The icy wind snaked between her coat and scarf, blowing crunchy brown leaves across her boots. She shivered, leaning against the edge of the cold stone well as the wind whistled in her ears. She turned her gaze up to the waving treetops and licked her teeth, searching for the hole that was not there.
       I made him up, she decided. The boy that night. He was a hallucination. She peered down at her reddening hands, at the stubs of her missing pinkie fingers. She wiggled her toes again. Frostbite and hypothermia, as her mother always said. That's what made her imagine him.
       The chain beside her rattled, clanking heavily below. Kyra turned and stared at the well, at the rusted links swaying. She lay her stomach against the stones, her hands pressing into the icy lichen. Peering between the boards, she couldn't see a thing. She fingered the nails protruding from the sides. Someone had chosen the thickest, most solid nails at the hardware store for this job.
       She frowned, wondering if some animal had fallen in and was bumping the chain. She tried to pry a board loose, but the heavy nails and mud glued the rotted wood together. Fingers brushed her hand. She jumped, turning to see Todd's goofy grin.
       "Aren't you freezing?" He pretended to shudder. "Brrrrrrrr." He hefted a minuscule amount of firewood over his shoulder with a grunt like he was Paul Bunyan or something.
       "It's not so cold. It's refreshing." She shifted as Todd tried to slide his flannel sleeve around her. She slipped away and made a beeline for the truck, grasping the two grocery bags between her thumbs and six fingers, carrying them inside the cabin without looking back.
       Hours later, snowflakes kissed her cheeks as she carried the slightly burnt pizza out to the campfire. Celia and Felix snuggled under a plaid wool blanket and whispered while Todd poked sullenly at the smoldering fire with a stick. His eyes were like frozen lakes, flicking toward her. Kyra stared out to the woods as her friends devoured the pizza. She felt a tug at her stomach as if a thin cord pulled her toward the wood. She wondered if she could find the place where she huddled in the snow years ago. Celia snorted, reacting to something Felix had said or done. She ground her teeth, glancing at elfish Felix with his flame-red hair and wicked grin.
       Stop being so cute. She pulled an icy blanket around her.
       "There's the hot spring," Todd whispered, as if answering a question she hadn't asked. He leaned toward her, licking tomato sauce off his lips. Snowflakes collected in his curly brown hair as he nodded toward the cabin. The steaming hot spring was dimly lit by a quivering fluorescent light. "Wanna try it?"
       "Uh, no." She shook her head. "I'm plenty warm." Guilt twisted through her stomach. Todd couldn't help that he wasn't Felix. She tried to smile. "You can go in, if you want." She wrapped the thick wool blanket around her more tightly.
       Todd shrugged, helped himself to another piece of pizza. "Not so much fun alone."
       Celia revealed a bottle of pink wine and poured her some in a plastic tumbler. She felt the world grow fuzzy as Felix started telling a story about four teenagers in a graveyard on Halloween night with an Ouija board. The firelight danced in Felix's silvery-blue eyes. Kyra thought he was making eye contact with her a lot and wondered what that might mean.
       "Why would anyone think that was a good idea?" Her lips were buzzing. She felt Todd's hand sliding up her leg and ignored it, watching Felix's cocky smile instead. Flakes dotted Felix's eyebrows as she sipped her wine, wincing at its sweet-sour taste on her tongue. "It's like they want something bad to happen--like they haven't watched any horror movies!"
       "I have a better story," Todd interrupted, his hand firmly attached to her leg like a barnacle on solid rock. "A true story. About the Spineless, Bloody Ghost--"
       "May I join you?"
       The voice made Celia shriek. Kyra spilled her wine into the snow. An owl hooted low in the woods. She turned. Her eyelashes filled with icy flakes as she stared up, surprised.
       The blue moon behind his head shadowed his face, but she could tell the young man was looking at her. He wore a threadbare jacket with elbow patches, almost modern, but the rest of his clothing seemed old-fashioned. His boots were worn and muddy; his hands were tucked into the pockets of his trousers. He seemed unbothered by the quickly-growing snow and wind. It occurred to her that the snowflakes fell through him, not on him, as he stood still, his face mostly hidden inside the hood of his jacket.
       She glanced at her companions. They were all gawking at the young man with varying degrees of confusion and displeasure. Something about their dubious faces made her bristle.
       "Of course." Kyra slid away from Todd's hand, gesturing for the stranger to sit down. "We have wine and pizza. Very fancy. Make yourself at home."
       "Thank you." The hooded figure nodded politely. "But I prefer to stand." He rocked back and forth on his heels, as if to show how comfortable he was standing outside the campfire's warmth. One thin curl of dark hair fell from underneath his hood, glistening like a melting icicle.
       Her jaw worked as she glanced at her companions. Todd's gaze was unreadable in the firelight. She shrugged and offered the heavy pan containing one remaining piece of pizza. The young man shook his head, and she sensed rather than saw his slight smile underneath his hood. She felt her cheeks warm as she set down the pan, grabbing the last piece of pizza. She chewed as her friends' eyes wandered over the newcomer's clothing, his slight, shadowy figure.
       "Where did you come from, man?" Todd's voice was skeptical. He looked off into the forest and back at the snowed-in road, as if searching for answers there.
       "Peabody." Kyra thought she caught a note of hesitation.
       Todd frowned. "That's a pretty good hike from here." He glanced at Felix, who shrugged.
       "What's your name?" Celia chimed in. Her sapphire eyes glistened as she leaned forward. Felix shot Celia an affronted look.
       She felt the young man's eyes shift toward her.
       "John? James?" He shook his head as if to clear his ears. "Jack?"
       Todd broke the silence with a hearty bark of laughter.
       "You sound lost! Well, John James Jack--or whatever--you've gotta be insane wandering around out here. Felix, gimme your phone. You need a lift somewhere, bro?"
       Jack shook his head. Kyra caught her breath. In the faint moonlight, she could see the path behind him, bright now with slowly falling snow, unmarked by footprints. She met his eyes, which were like deep, dark pools, but a spark of cold fire burned within. The ground beneath her shuddered, the snow slowed. As she breathed in, the forest, the campfire, and her friends melted away. It seemed she and Jack were alone, with flurries of snow swirling around, the moon blotted out by a passing cloud.
       "Do I know you?" Her breath puffed out like fog.
       Jack tilted his head and smiled playfully. "I don't know. Do you know me?"
       She felt a burst of irritation. "That's not a real answer." She nodded toward the forest. "I met a boy out there once, years ago. Almost froze to death, but he helped me." She peered at him. "Was that you?"
       Jack pulled his hand out of his pocket and held up something between his fingers. It was tiny, pink, and white.
       Memories washed over her, sharp and cold. "I never knew what happened to it."
       Jack placed the tooth in her hand, where it burned like a frozen stone. She stared at Jack's fingers--clear like pale blue glass, but solid and opaque at the edges. His body seemed to fade in and out, like adjusting the focus on her binoculars. She tried to peer under his hood.
       Jack nodded. "Thank you for the blood."
       She stepped back, her jaw tightening. Jack shifted his weight, looked askance. A burst of dry leaves tumbled across their feet with an icy gust of wind. The snow was falling harder, but Kyra barely felt it. A line of hot sweat trickled down her cheek.
       "Uh, I mean--your wound?" His low voice inflected up, a pleading question. His hood fell back slightly. She saw pale blue skin, frosty tufts of coal-black hair, lips tinged white, and the hint of a skeletal structure visible behind a thin veneer. "Something happened that night when I touched it. Something changed--"
       "HEY! Y'all deaf or what?"
       She started. The moon emerged, exposing freshly-fallen snow and Todd--glowering beside her. She blinked, wondering how long they'd been standing there. She noticed Felix and Celia were gone and had left their blankets behind. The campfire embers smoldered low.
       Todd's face was beet-red--but with cold or anger, she wasn't sure. His brows were buried so deeply into each other she figured he must be giving himself a headache.
       "Kyra, snap out of it." Todd's tone was hard like an ax against stone. He didn't look at Jack. He took her wrists, tried to guide her away. She yanked her arms away, glaring at him.
       "Hey!" Kyra snapped. "We were just talking. What's wrong?"
       "Talking?" Todd laughed, an irritable whine. His shoulders were covered with an inch of snow. "You call standing and staring at somebody for, like, twenty minutes, TALKING?"
       "Twenty minutes?" She glanced at Jack, but he wasn't there. He was sitting on a stump, his back to them, about ten feet away from the dying fire. Kyra shivered.
       "Felix and Celia went in." Todd's voice was low. "You should go in, too."
       "Why?" Her voice was sharp. She stepped away from Todd. Her fingers flexed, curled into tiny fists. "What are you going to do?"
       "Take this guy back to town. He doesn't belong here."
       "You don't know that." She glanced at Jack's worn brown jacket, dotted with moisture. His back was relaxed, but she was sure he was listening. "Maybe he lives here."
       "That's not what he said, is it?" Todd's face was growing redder by the minute.
       "You can't drive the truck. It's not safe. We didn't bring chains."
       "Whatever. It's not hard." Todd stomped over to Jack while she followed, preparing a retort. Todd took a deep breath, his chest swelling, his hands clenching into fists.
       "Wanna hear a story?" Jack's voice was soft.
       Kyra and Todd hovered beside the dying fire, staring at Jack who was watching the coals.
       "You were telling ghost stories earlier, right?"
       Todd sat stiffly on a log across from Jack, glaring at him with distrust and maybe hatred. Kyra sat between them, watching Jack's clear-blue hand reach for a charred stick and start prodding the coals. She wondered if Todd noticed his unusual skin color. She thought she saw crystalline rivulets of water run down his fingers, dripping into hollows in the piled-up snow. Her heart started to hammer against her ribs as an inexplicable thought coursed through her.
       "Jack." Her jaw tightened. "You don't have to stay--"
       "It was the dead of winter. More than three hundred years before your time."
       "Our time," Todd snorted, grinning at Kyra. "That would be your time, too, bro."
       Jack didn't react to this but lifted his head toward her.
       "A boy came home after being out in the woods, collecting birds' eggs. The boy's hair was black like ravens, his skin the color of burnished wood. The rest of the townsfolk were ghostly pale. He had a meaningful name, but nobody in town used it. No one remembers it now. Except maybe the snow, the trees, the animals in the wood. They might remember."
       "This boy was a mama's boy on account of having no father around. His father had been taken away by the authorities years before, and the boy hadn't seen him since. He deeply missed his father, a gentle man, an outsider, a man from the local tribe, who had done nothing wrong that the boy could tell. These days, lonely for his father, the boy was close to his mother. So, naturally, he looked around the farm for her. He went into the barn to see if she was there--but she wasn't. He wandered through the house looking for her--but she wasn't there either."
       "The next thing he'll say is it was this house," Todd whispered loudly, looking pointedly at her. She rolled her eyes and turned back to Jack.
       "No, it wasn't. It was the house that used to stand here," Jack corrected. She could tell he was frowning. "It couldn't be this house. This house isn't three hundred years old, is it?"
       Todd looked like he'd eaten something foul. Kyra decided to ignore Todd completely.
       "So, the boy went into town to try to find her. On the way in, he met up with three men he knew by sight. They were farmers, and they had come to visit his mother often for herbs to cure stomachaches and headaches. He asked where his mother was, and the men looked at each other. One said the boy should follow them; they would show him the way."
       The wind whirled colder. She pulled the wool blanket close, her teeth chattering. It seemed like the weather was responding to Jack's story. His bright, starlit gaze fixed on her.
       "The remaining details change a lot depending on who you ask. The men took the boy to a field outside of town, where festivals were held in the Summer. It was Winter, and there were no festivals. But there were many people gathered there. Some say there was a scaffolding with two nooses hung. Some say there was a pyre built, circled by every person in town. But all agree the boy saw his mother at the center, gazing back at him, her wrists bound."
       Kyra couldn't breathe. Todd was twitchy but seemed to be listening. Her boots felt ice-cold, like her socks felt years ago. The snow was piling up faster now.
       "The men lunged for the boy, but he ran. Voices called after him, calling him names, but he kept running, crying hard. He ran and ran--back through to the forest to his house. The branches of the trees tore at his clothing. Boys' voices followed him, calling him "witch boy" and "devil spawn" and "dirty savage." He made it to the house. He threw himself inside and shut the door. He locked the door and leaned against it. Then he smelled something which made his heart freeze." Jack turned toward the old barn. "Fire. They had lit the barn on fire. There were animals, livestock in the barn. So, the boy opened the door."
       Jack fell still and silent. The coals in the fire had burnt to ashes. There was no light at all outside of the moon's faint glow. Todd leaned forward, glowering at Jack, but didn't say a word.
       "A woman stood in the doorway. It was the boy's mother, her kind face pale, her eyes like hollow shadows. Her shawl and dress were covered in ash. Smoke curled up from her hair into the trees. She sang something to the boy: 'Never Sun and never Home and Trees will Flower when? Winter must meet Summer thrice 'fore Spring comes again.'"
       Krya sat up straighter. It is you! A faint smile formed on her lips.
       "Then his mother was gone--and five older boys stood there. They grabbed him and hit him on the head with an iron bar. He fell back. They rolled him up inside the hall carpet and dragged him outside. They threw him into the well, carpet and all. The freezing water rose over his head as he choked and pleaded. The last thing he saw were five heads against the sky."
       Kyra stared with horror at the old stone well.
       "Is that a true story?" She pulled the tooth out of her pocket and pressed its sharpness into her palm.
       "Eh, that's a lousy ghost story." Todd stood up, dusted the snow off his hands. "The kid died, but then what? You need an actual ghost for a ghost story!"
       Jack shrugged. A dull clang echoed from the frozen well. Kyra looked at Jack, her mind racing. Todd's mittened hand squeezed her arm.
       "Well, thanks for the spooky story, man. But it's getting late. Kyra and I have a date with the hot springs. If you wanna sleep in the truck, go ahead. Felix can drive you to town in the morning--"
       Jack shook his head. "That won't be necessary. "
       She wrenched her arm out of Todd's grasp. Her cheeks were hot. She was fed up with Todd and sick of his suggestions. She glowered into his startled, blinking eyes.
       "I'm not going in the hot springs, Todd," she hissed. "I already told you that. Just go inside, go to sleep!" She cocked her head toward Jack. "I want to stay out here."
       Todd grabbed her hand. "That wasn't the plan, Kyra. You and me--"
       "You don't get to make all the plans, Todd!" She was nearly shouting now. "It doesn't always have to be your way, you know!" She yanked her hand away, shaking.
       Kyra trudged through the snow toward Jack. She felt a hand around her arm, felt her shoulder wrenched. She fell face-first into the snow. She sat up, sputtering, saw Todd shove Jack hard in the chest. She cried out as Jack stumbled, holding up his blue-glass hands.
       "You're solid enough," Todd grunted. "But why are your fingers dripping?" He shoved Jack again--this time toward the hot spring. Jack yanked his body away. His hood fell back, and Kyra could see the glint of fear in his eyes. "There's something wrong with you. You're like a frickin' snowman! I wanna test a theory."
       "TODD!" Kyra's hands clenched in fists. "You prick! Leave him alone!"
       "Try the pool!" Todd poked Jack in the ribs. "Go on! Get in!"
       Jack's jaw tightened. Silvery rivulets trickled down his cheeks, dripped off his clear-blue nose.
       Todd stared at his dripping face with revulsion. "You're blue, man--and you're soaked. It's not natural--" He pushed Jack again as Jack grabbed his arms. Todd hissed in alarm, trying to pull back. "God, you're freezing! What the--"
       She brought the iron skillet down on Todd's head, the vibration rattling her jaw. Todd crumpled, pitched over on his side into the snow. She dropped the pan and backed away.
       Jack moved swiftly to Todd's side. "Let's get him inside. He'll freeze out here."
       She moved numbly, helping Jack to pull Todd over to the front door. Jack stepped back as she opened the door, a wave of warmth from the woodstove washing over them. She hauled Todd in, tucked a couch pillow under his head, and stepped outside quickly, shutting the door.
       The snow fell silently. She took Jack's hand. His fingers felt like icicles. Her tooth pulsed in her opposite hand like a tiny heart. She pulled Jack into the darkness of the trees, feeling the snow crunch under her feet. The moon kept pace with them as they walked into the forest, past the meadow, under the canopy of the trees. Kyra stared up as they passed beneath dark branches hung with glittery icicles reflecting the moon's glow. Jack led her to a wide, frozen pond dotted with slippery stepping-stones. Holding his icy hand, she made it across the stones with ease.
       "Let's go back," she urged, after a while. "We'll sleep in the barn." She tugged his arm, then glanced at him fearfully. "Or--would that be too warm?"
       "Should be alright." Jack's eyes were frozen pools of dancing light, his ice-blue lips turning up at the corners. Kyra felt a ripple of warmth shiver through her. His cheeks turned rosy-brown for an instant, then faded back to pale blue.
       She guided Jack through the drifts of snow. Small lakes seemed to form in the snow wherever he took a step, as a steady trickle ran down his neck and ankles. She found that she was more sure-footed than she knew. She helped him through the icy sludge, and he helped her.
       The barn was cool and drafty, though not as cold as outside. Squinting through the gloom, she found the hayloft she remembered--a snug hiding place with sweet-smelling straw. The tiny squeaks of mice used to fascinate her, but tonight those mice were silent. Glinting flakes drifted down through a hole in the old roof. The shimmery strand of a spider's web stretched between two splintery wooden beams caught the light of the moon.
       Jack followed her up the creaking ladder. Kyra flopped like a child on her back, waving her arms and legs in the straw like she was making a snow angel. She giggled as Jack laughed. She would never sprawl out in this way in front of Celia, Felix, or Todd. But Jack was different. Jack was the frozen boy. She felt her heart race as he flopped down beside her, propping himself up on one elbow. Jack smiled, his eyebrows sparkling with frost, rivulets of water trickling down his cheeks. Her grin faded as a wave of anxiety washed over her.
       "Todd will wake up," she said, though that wasn't what she was worried most about.
       "Not for a while," Jack said, rolling onto his back, his hands clasped behind his head, staring up at the moon. She watched his ribcage rising and falling, pressing through his shirt.
       "Are you going to melt?" She was afraid to look at Jack's face.
       Jack rolled over, his eyes searching hers. He traced one cold finger across her palm. A line of heat ran up her spine, warming her belly. She imagined green vines were tumbling out of her in long curlicues. She envisioned flowers blooming, bursting into fruits tinged with frost.
       "Not right away," Jack said.
       "My stepfather shoved me in the pool once." Kyra balled her hands into fists. She wasn't sure why she was saying this. She'd never told anybody before. "He laughed--he thought it was hysterical. But I didn't know how to swim. I thought I was dying. I was dying. After that, my mom told Ralph to go, to leave the house and not come back." She shook her head. "My mom was telling him to leave--I never thought it could happen!"
       Jack lay back in the straw. "I'm glad your stepdad is gone. I wish my mom could have stopped those boys. I wish I could have helped her--"
       "You were a kid. What were you supposed to do?"
       "I don't know," Jack whispered. "Die with her?"
       "Your mother gave you a message. Summer must meet Winter--to do what?"
       Jack opened his mouth to speak. He rolled over and buried his nose in her hair. She stroked his icy fingers. She held up his hand in hers and marveled at how the moon shone through blue skin, revealing his bones.
       "How do you feel so real?" Kyra breathed.
       Jack's lips brushed her neck, and his hipbone pressed against hers. She turned and kissed him, tasting his frozen lips. Cold stones. Peppermint popsicles. The kissing became a slow and gentle dance. She ran her fingers through Jack's soaked hair, her fingers tingling. She traced Jack's icy spine. As she pressed into him, Jack rolled away, moisture dripping down his cheeks. Her heart fell. She stared at the flurries of snow tumbling through the hole in the roof. She touched the ground, clutching something soft. Pulling it up, she found dark green moss tinged with ice and tiny, pale blue flowers.
       "It's not enough." Jack looked at his hands, which had dissolved into thick, carved blobs of ice; his delicate fingers melted away. He turned stricken eyes to Kyra.
       "I'm sorry. I think--"
       She saw the pale, red-blotched face above them the same instant she smelled the tang of kerosene. She leapt to her feet with a cry as a long stream of liquid leapt down from the hole in the roof, puddling into the straw below. A sparking match fell. White-hot flames shot up through the wood they lay on, licking the inexplicable green moss and nearly catching their clothing.
       She shrieked and grabbed Jack, half-dragging him down the ladder. His face dripped like a melting ice cube. He slipped and fell, knocking her down. She stumbled to the door, yanking on the handle. Jack, his mouth and chin dissolving, battered the flames with his jacket.
       "Todd!" She screamed, pounding against the heavy wood. "Let us out, you asshole!"
       "I won't let you get hurt, Kyra!" Todd sounded anxious. "I'm--I'm trying to save you! That asshole in there is some kind of abominable, frozen thing!"
       "Just open the fucking door!" She whirled and saw Jack on his knees, beating at the flames. His head and neck had melted. His shoulders and glass-blue arms remained, flailing against the fire. She screamed as the body toppled, his clothing deflating into a steaming puddle.
       She sobbed. Small pink flowers germinated, fell from her eyes. She lay with her back against the door long after Todd unlatched the lock and rattled it, begging for her to open up.

       Dr. Kyra Bhasin sat stiffly on the edge of the well, stretching out her sore legs and tying back her sweat-soaked strands of grey-flecked hair. Despite the early Fall chill, the day's work had been physically and emotionally draining. Her back and head felt like hammers and chisels were grinding away at her insides. She fanned her face with a newspaper as her assistant Cleo started her engine. The forensic team and coroner had already rumbled off down the road.
       "See you back at the hotel?" Cleo shouted, raising a pierced eyebrow.
       She nodded and waved her on. As the last wheels spun in the muddy gravel, she glanced down at the newspaper in her hand. Her team's painstaking research and exhuming of the small skeleton at the bottom of the well were the biggest news in the area in the last several years. The headlines bellowed the tale. She sighed, peering into the shadows between the trees, listening. Ghost-hunters and modern Wiccans were no stranger to these woods, but they'd taken to camping out ever since the press caught wind of her "tragic discovery."
       The chirp of a cricket below caught her ear. The poor thing must have hopped in since the barrier had been removed. Funny, she thought, watching the insect hop from stone to stone as if inspecting them. The stones are innocuous. But the stones know the facts. The stones told her team a lot about the small bones in the well. Wool threads from a long-dissolved carpet still remained, further evidence of Jack's story--a story she'd often wondered if she'd dreamed up.
       "If only you met Summer three times," she murmured. "Whatever that means." She touched the smooth, cold object she wore on a thin chain around her neck, still warm or cool to the touch at odd moments. Tiny, green creeping vines slipped out of her sleeves. She pushed them back inside, flicking her gaze around out of habit. Sighing, she moved toward her truck.
       "It's not Winter yet," a voice said.
       Kyra sucked in her breath. She found him standing at the edge of the wood; his hands shoved deep in his pockets, his hood fallen back. His wavy black hair was lined with grey and his brown eyes gleamed. His copper-brown skin pulsed with blood and life, and although his ears seemed pale as ice, the rest of him seemed substantial, solid as stone.
       She ignored the green vines sprouting from under her hair, falling around her shoulders in tendrils as she moved toward him. She smiled at the dandelions bursting from the dirt in her footsteps. She felt her hand take his, felt the roughness of warm callouses.
       "Third time's the charm?" She rubbed his hand with her four fingers.
       The corners of Jack's eyes crinkled. Kyra's green tendrils wrapped around their wrists, coated in a fine spray of glittering frost. A gleam of anticipation shone in Jack's eyes.
       Kyra smiled. "Shall we find out?"