The snow fell in surges, silent one minute and deafening the next. It gathered on the roof of the cottage like eiderdowns, the colour of Edward's skin as he brushed the milky powder from his nose. Renesmee was lucky that she couldn't understand quite how cold it was. Her curls, defined and their unique shade of ebony-scarlet, danced as she threw the soft white dust at Jacob. She giggled as he hurled some back. The nest time he did, he threw it too far deliberately, crashing into a tree. The apple tree outside the cottage, skeletally bare with winter. Jacob or Edward often lifted her up into it on nice days. She liked it there, because she could watch over her kingdom. She could spy on Bella and Edward's discreet little house, and on clear days she could spot the Cullen residence in the far vicinity. It was lovely to be safe and loved and cosy, even when it was snowing and a normal child would be freezing cold. Not Renesmee.
A soft thud landed on the back of Renesmee's jacket. She turned round to see her parents, her mother closest to her, and her father behind Bella, his arms around her shoulders and his lips against her hair. Renesmee smiled wryly as if to say 'Get a room!' and launched another at the sickening couple. They split, along with the snowball, Edward leaping towards her, pushing her down with a torrent of loving tickles. Bella and Jacob watched from the sidelines as they continued in their little rough and tumble, father and daughter. Bella was pressed close to Jacob, enjoying his warmth presumably, Jacob's nose wrinkled slightly at her vampiric aroma, but he kept quiet. He was happy enough.
These were the three most important people in Renesmee's life. All three doted on her. Attention, play, even education was cascading over her brain. It wasn't that long until she'd be fully grown. Her mother had explained the complications of her strange kind. Renesmee was emotionless. She had everything good in her life, and it was simply going to continue. It wasn't the kind of scenario that had an everyday reaction.
Renesmee polished off the day with a game of chess with her father. He never went easy on her, and she was on her way to beating him. She always battered Jake at chess. Her favourite taunt was placing her white hand on his russet cheek, a startling mismatch, like snow on treated wood, and place images into her head. It wasn't hard, she only had to think. Her personal favourite was Renesmee at the world chess championships and Jacob carrying her bags. He was disappointed to be beaten by a child. Still, it's not as if Renesmee was anything like ordinary.
