Jack wasn't entirely sure where he was, aside from that it was somewhere in Europe. Probably Scandinavia. It didn't really matter too much, because there were snow and woods and mountains, except for that there was a complete deficit of people. No one to freeze or trip or throw a snowball at, no one to believe in him. He wasn't really sure why he'd let the wind drop him here in the first place, aside from that it looked, well, peaceful. Maybe he'd come back here to hibernate in the summer.

When he hears the unmistakeable sound of skis, though, he glances up from his perch in a tree, before jumping out, letting the wind carry him towards the sound. The boy that he finds looks a bit old to be believing in him, but if anyone needs a dose of fun it's this boy. He scoops up snow as he flies after him, breathing into it, imbuing it with his magic to bring out people's sense of fun, but then lets it fly.