.:Saving Emmett:.
Rosalie looked up the tall tree, narrowing her eyes. She was sure she could smell a squirrel, perhaps an owl. She dug her nails into the trunk of the tree and was just ready to climb up it when she suddenly heard the crunching of dead leaves under tons of weight, than the angry roar of a mother grizzly, followed by the howl of pain. Her instincts screamed to run, to kill the bear and feast on its prey. Her long silvery blonde hair in her eyes, black with the thirst. She ran towards the cries. She inhaled the strong scent of human blood. Though she had never tasted it, she knew it anywhere. It was the cries of a hunter, screaming through his probably torn open throat.
Weak with hunger, she found a tall tree to hide behind. There was a small bear cub crouched nearby, watching the bloody scene, calling to his mother. Rosalie fought not to touch him. He had not heard her. It would be easy, and she was hungry. But she carefully looked around the tree trunk.
"Henry?" she blinked. But no, it couldn't be Henry. Henry was much older than that now, maybe dead. But those dark curls, innocent, childlike eyes, and those dimples. Even as he howled in pain and his face was all bloody and screwed up with agony, she could see the dimples clearly.
She knelt, crouching. Slowly, eyeing her target. Carefully. Than, she pounced.
She sank her teeth into the grizzly's neck and it bucked off the man, rising up into the air, roaring in agony. The pain was excruciating. The man was gasping for air, coughing up blood, mouthfuls at a time.
The bear fell to the ground as Rosalie drained it of it's blood. Until every drop was pulsing throughout her. Her limbs tingled slightly with the sudden burst of energy and her eyes burnt with the excitement of her kill. She looked up, beady eyed, and spotted the cub. Only inches from launching herself at it to kill again, she stopped herself.
The poor cub. Only a baby, left to starve to death in the woods. Rosalie looked at the cub's dead mother, behind her. She could see the cub as her own child. As the child she had always wanted but was now unable to ever have. Now, without a mother, the cub would die. The pang of her conscience was overwhelming. If she could cry, she would. But her aching tear ducts had dried over the decades, and she turned her head away. She felt as though she'd just killed her child, and she hated herself for it.
"What are you?" croaked the man in a weak, raspy voice. He looked at her in horror, shock, and the smallest trace of appreciation.
Rosalie looked at him. "I am Rosalie Hale-"
"No." he cut her off. "What are you?"
She looked at him with sad eyes, than looked down and exhaled deeply. "I am… a vampire."
The look on his face was enough for her to feel even worse about it. But he was so drained of blood, that he collapsed in the pool of the thick, red, sticky substance that smothered him head to foot. She had to get him out of here. But she was miles from the house, and she was not as strong as she had once been, even after the feed.
She picked him up but fell. His muscles were large, a body builder probably. She heaved him onto her back, linked arms with him and weakly stood and took her first attempts at a run.
She fell again. Baby steps, Rosalie. Baby steps… she had to tell herself. She got to her feet and held her breath for a moment. Than, she let it out and marched back up the mountain, with the wounded, full grown man on her back.