DISCLAIMERS NOTE: I do not own Twilight.

Twilight: JASPER'S STORY

Prologue:

As I rode, the wind rode with me. It swept my hair around my face, stinging my cheeks. I reached one gloved hand up and straightened my hat, which had been blown askew. The reins felt loose under my sore hands and I tried to tighten my grip.

"Come on, Royal!" I shouted to my steed against the wind. My voice sounded dry and rough; I hadn't had a drink in what felt like an age. I fingered my rifle in my belt and turned my head to face the rest of the army. Many of them were slumped upon the backs of their horses, worn out from battle and lack of sleep. The rest were doing their best to stay awake; alert; but it was no use.

We had been travelling for eight months now, our supplies diminishing rapidly by the day. We had to stop somewhere, but all that lay ahead was the dry and dusty plains of Texas. It did no use to hope; to pray; to wish, but we prayed anyway, more to keep our spirits alive rather than our bodies. Giving up was not an option. We had to stay strong.

As darkness fell upon us, we set up camp for the night. Lighting fires to keep us warm, we huddled together and sang songs until we were hoarse. Not many of us slept that night; those who did were lucky. Although their sleep was often interrupted and they tossed and turned on the rough ground all night, those who were awake all longed just to drift in to sleep for even just a minute, but no matter how hard we tried, scenes of the bloodied and mangled lay before our eyes, haunting us and daring us to close our eyes again.

I was awoken by the sound of screaming; strangled cries. They were coming from the East, and as I turned, it hit me. Almost picking me up off my feet, whipping me with sand that stung as if a swarm of wasps had been disturbed by my presence. The bare skin that I had exposed was being lashed with gravel and debris until it was raw and bloody. The rest of my crew were shouting, frantically, but I couldn't make out what exactly they were saying. The noise was deafening- wind, sand and dust; running away with our supplies. We weren't going see them again. I tried to run away, but I tripped over something hard. A body. Blinded and alone, I fell to the ground. My hand, which had been grasping my rifle, had been twisted and broken from the weight of the rest of my body as I fell. Defeated, I closed my eyes, dust still lashing at my eyelids. Blackness enveloped me, and I knew I had lost.