A/N Disclaimer: I own nothing but a computer and an imagination... I want bloodshed! Hence why this is set in a world where the Volturi DID attack the Cullens in Breaking Yawn, and have their big epic battle over Death Baby, whom escaped with creepy Uncle Jacob. Yeah.. Spoilers. I do not own the mentioned characters or any others characters I may use from the Twilight cannon.
If you would please leave a review with some constructive critism, that would be great and much appreciated :) Take care, and enjoy!
I indulge myself in another lungful of that fresh smell of salt spray drifting across the loch. It was early October and although late into the evening, my surroundings seemed so much more alive than usual. I could hear the clicks of crickets, snapping jaws of a beetle, the whistle of a Swallow bird high in the bony treetops. This was my world. The world of the night, the comfort of the darkness. It made me grin. Fear of the unknown. I giggle to myself softly. Creatures were coming alive, tonight. I could feel them writhing in the dirt and twitching in the trees. The shadows that caressed every pebble on the shores of Loch Fyne danced across the growing mist. So soon. Already winter was rearing it's head. I chew my bottom lip, my brow furrowing. I hated winter. I wanted to savour the sweet crisp autumn leaves and the delectable pumpkin pie Aunty Debra would make. She wasn't my aunty, not really. But she likes to act like she is, so I tolerate it. Anyway, so long as she feeds us more of that pie, who could complain?
I hear a distant creak. Turning my head as my shoulders tense. I sit up, with tiny beads of rock clinging to the back of my multicoloured wool sweater. I can feel my jaw twitch for a moment, then I relax. I know that stench. I cannot hold back the massive grin I have. My puppy dog has come in search of me. Oh how I'd hoped he would relax and just play his X-Box all night like most boys his age. I give him a wry smile and shrug. I can hear Jake's heavy tread across the dock; his little heart beat thumping as he jumps down and marches over to me. My smile vanishes. Oh dear. He looks pissed. I blow an escaped tendril of bronze-coloured hair off my forehead. Typical.
"I just wanted some fresh air," I say before he can lecture me.
"Then next time, open a window before running off." Jacob replies, his voice tight. He makes a grab for me and I roll away from him. "I did.," I say. "And then when that failed, I escaped through the window." I frown up at him, rising up onto my bare feet, grazing my jeans a little. Flimsy mortal fabric. I'm barely four foot, compared to Jake, who's almost two feet taller. How pathetic. At least I mature faster though. Girls often do. I clench my fists and stamp my foot. "You're not the boss of me!" I declare. He looks mortally wounded. If only I was so lucky.
"Nessie... I was worried. So was Deb." He says, voice barely a whisper. I turn and fold my arms
"I don't care! Both of you were starting to stink. Even worse, was that farting cat of hers. When are you gunna let me eat that rat-munching, Rupert?" Jacob sighs exasperated, placing his hands on his hips, raising one hulking bicep up and pinches his brow bone. Most girls at school love to gawk at his muscles. I guess when you're accustomed to him walking around shirtless every five minutes, one becomes immune to the novelty."You know I can't let you do that, Nessie." He says. "We've been through five cats already. We shouldn't keep taking advantage of Aunty Deb like that."
Aunty Debra, is a quiet lonely old cow with a fondness for oysters. I can understand it being one of the town's main contribution to the local businesses (besides the lure for tourists) however this woman could make oysters into almost anything. Her most common concoctions she claims to be food. Either way, all that fish culminates into one very rotten-smelling household, and to people with such sensitive smell, it can be most foul. Although, the cloying smell of rotten seafood does help to mask Aunt Debra's own tempting scent. Though, Jacob makes a good point. The old hag has dodgy eyesight not often helped by her miniature specks. Although, it made the task of replacing the missing Rupert's 1 – 5 much easier. But I suppose Jacob makes a good point about the "moral" side of it. He's been attending too many church services, clearly. I guess it's understandable; considering there is very little by way of youth entertainment in this town. And even if there was, Jacob would likely advise me against it.
There lay a moment of tense silence between us before I felt those strong arms wrapping around my waist and lifting me up, clenching me tightly against him in a bear hug. I let out a shriek, squirming around in his grip. I was still mad at him, but his sudden contact took me totally off guard. Swinging me back and forth, causing my legs to flail around like a rag doll, my squeals of childish glee echoing across the loch. He plops me back down. I try to compose my beaming grin into a stern mask of disapproval. He's smirking at me, and I pout. He readjusts my frilly headband, kneeling down in front of me. "You still mad?" He asks. I contemplate the answer. Yes. Yes I am. Very much. How do I choose to express this? I give him a wicked grin then ask softly "Are you?" Before he can react, I deliver him a surprise uppercut sending him flying through the air and smashing into the dock.
With a deafening crack followed by layers of dust and termite ridden splintered wood showering down on him, I am almost terrified that we'll be caught for property damage. But I shake it off. Am sure with the right kind of threatening one of us could make those kinds of accusations disappear. Jacob be momentarily disoriented as the debris gradually settles around him; this is the perfect time to return home. I place my hands behind my back, acting innocent for a scant few seconds, before rushing over to gather up my shoes, then I flee for the safe confines of the trees.
Cold winds whip against my dimpled cheeks as I sprint over the mossy undergrowth, dodging rocks, and leaping over fallen tree logs. The moist mud feels great against my toes, cold, like my parents. My legs fumble for a moment, slowing me briefly as I prepare to soar over a passing log. No. Don't think about them. I snap out of my daze, fast enough that I avoid slamming into a tree which seems to have jumped right the hell out of nowhere. Weird Scottish flora. I'm distantly aware of Jacob close behind as he storms through the woodland, ploughing through shrubs and tearing at the naked branches. I'm debating which would be the most suitable hiding spot, beneath the porch, inside the chimney, or (dare I attempt) the outhouse when I am halted by a sudden waft of smoke.
Skidding in the mud I emerge at the edge of the forest overlooking a barren lot of land. A dank dull meadow surrounding a single modest cottage. A two storey tudor thing with thatched roofing and a matching windmill attached to the east side wall of the main house. With keen eyes, I notice that the little four pane windows appeared smashed in, the frames beaten. The quaint wooden door to the cottage lay on the floor of the hallway, split down the middle it seemed. Kicked off it's hinges. My heartbeat quickens as I survey the sight before me. Jacob approaches from the shrub cautiously in his wolf form. His dark brown fur with it's red accents stoop low in the bushes.
My legs delay for a moment before I instinctively take cover beneath his warm coat. Running my fingertips through Jake's soft fur reminds me of that day, two years ago. For some reason, it seems much longer. I'd clung to his back for days. His softness, his warmth had been a comfort back then, like a child's blanket. Though, I suppose one could consider me a child at the time. Jacob Black, is my... guardian, of sorts. He claims we're bonded together by some deep intricate wolfy bollocks. Imprinting I believe. It often leads to... relationships. I despise the word. And I despise him. Of course being his... mate, for use of a better word, does have it's advantages. I, for one, have a totally loyal welp by my side. The fact that he's good looking is merely a bonus.
Jacob raised his great wolf muzzle, his scruff bristling for a moment. This is often a sign of discomfort. Was it time to move on? I claw myself ever so slowly onto his back, careful to make as little sound as possible. I press myself tight up against his back, wrapping my legs beneath his torso. Jacob makes a throaty groan at the touch and that, for some reason, unsettles me. I resist the urge to kick him in the ribs. Jacob creeps forward out of the brush, pacing forward. I can feel the tension of his body radiating off of him. The entire time, we both check, check and triple check our surrounding, each step more daring than the last. Soon we meet the stone pathway leading to the open mouth of the cottage. The white fence squaring off the front yard appeared brutally mangled, the tips of the wood charred black from the thick smoke still billowing out of the hollow remains of the place that had once been our home.
I could feel Jake's hackles raising again. I knew I was clutching his fur a little too tight and after summoning some breathe into my lungs, I gradually began to relax my grip. The further we approached the more and more obvious it became what other smells were mixed in with the fire. Oysters, for one. Dead cat. And even the faint droplets of blood. Instantly, fear clenched my chest. Aunt Debra! I leapt from Jacob and dashed inside. Across the hallway burnt remains of shoes, coats, letters, books, papers lie in a pile of ashes at the foot of an empty bookcase on the right wall. To the left a door leads off to the joint living room / dinning room. Although, one wouldn't be able to tell what an earth it was anymore. The furniture strewn across the room, cushions torn open, every inch of it burnt to a crisp.
I could feel a lump forming in my throat. I heard Jacob's footsteps behind me. I dared a glimpse over my shoulder at him. He'd returned to his human form it seemed. Our eyes meet for the briefest of moments and I see the reflected emotions in his. Pain. Terror. And saddest of all... Relief. This really shouldn't have been much of a shock. In the past two years, we've been hopping around Canada, venturing through Alaska for a brief time, then across to Scotland for the past eight months. The longest time we've gone undetected. It was true. We knew the day would eventually come. I felt tears sting my eyes. I'd hope that peace would carry on but... it looks like I was wrong. And poor Aunt Debra... She paid the price for our underestimation it seems. A swelling of guilt begins to accumulate within my chest.
My shoulders sag as I take a moment to gather my thoughts. I turn my attention back to Jacob. "Did you check the kitchen?" I ask my voice croaked. The smoke seems to be getting to me. Jake seems to realise this and visibly winces. Huh. He is overprotective. He nods then hesitates "I checked..." He sounds... unsure. I barge past him and open the delicate door to the kitchen but what I see stuns me so, that I cannot take another step forward. Blood... Everywhere. Coating the counters, dribbling out of the saucepans left on standby and smeared across the floor tiles. This seems... Odd, somehow. Normally our pursuers are more careful. They plan their attacks a little more... efficiently, than this. We got lucky tonight of course. Me and Jake let our guard down, allowing an innocent old lady to die...
There. A swoop. It came from outside in the back yard. I snap my gaze fast enough, narrowing my eyes and just about catch a glimpse of a tuft of black cape. I tense. Jacob (nude, yes) stands behind me, sensing my uneasiness, no doubt. Although it may seem sickening to outsiders, being magically bonded to a person certainly has its perks. Outside, a figure seemingly falls from the sky in front of us. I stumble backwards, pressing myself into the corner, my heart pounding. I've never seen one of them this close. The moisture in my lips fizzles away, my wide brown eyes darting between Jacob and the hooded figure that approaches us. It seems my 'mate' has acquired himself a kitchen knife. Hardly useful enough to take down one of these guys.
The figure approaches unfazed. Jacob is panicked and makes a charge for the onlooker, finally coming to the conclusion that we are in fact, under threat. The hooded creature dodges him with unfathomable speed, much like my own and before I can react similarly, the figure is standing over me. I gasp, still cowering uselessly in my corner. I feel so weak and feeble, it makes me want to huddle up and cry out in despair. But, I refuse. I shall not give this creature the satisfaction of watching me crack. The cloaked creature eyes me for a few moments more before pulling back her hood revealing a face that stuns me, yet again.
A beautiful glorious pale face smiles down at me. She has golden eyes and long soft waves of luscious blonde hair. I know this woman. She was once a part of my life. She kneels before me, taking my hand in hers. Her teeth are pristine as she smiles. I frown. There is a difference. I notice it first at her ear, then I spot the faint scarring drawing a diagonal line from her right jawline all the way up to her left earlobe. I realise there is a chunk of flesh missing at that ear which she tries to hide behind a set of black feathered earrings. My eyes search her, and upon touching my hand, her eyes flutter shut for a few moments.
I channel those confused memories via our touching flesh, hoping she will understand and give me the confirmation I seek. She sighs heavily then opens her eyes again. "You remember me... Don't you?" She says. I know her face. But sadly, not her name. Those have the tendency to escape me. "You're Renesmee," she urges, as if she were speaking to a baby. I shake my head, my dark eyes blazing as I snatch my hand out from under hers. I know my name. I wish to know hers. I glance up and spot Jacob return through the sliding back door. He gives a nod of acknowledgement to the woman. He recognises her too. The woman speaks again. "My name is Rosalie Hale."