Chapter One - An Opening

If you're curled up in a nice, warm bed tonight, then I beseech you to savour it. Savour that softness; savour that impenetrable blanket; that ship to your dreams. How I wish I did. There's many things in my life I wish I did. I wish for many things as equally as I love and hate many things. I might one day meet my wishes, I might one day meet a void.

I had only one wish that night: get warm, Bella.

In the back of my mind, I can still feel the fingers of frost forming in my stomach. Nose nipped, lips wet with wintry rain. I never thought I'd see the day when I was alone on the moors. So greedily did the boggy ground slurp at my boots; so aggressively did the wind howl into my soul.

"Help," I muttered. Who'd hear it? "Help me, God."

Energy levels were depleting. Why didn't I eat all my dinner before I fled that scene of horror? Vaguely did I discern the Moon peek her mocking face amongst the clouds, granting me a temporary rush of light, before shrouding the fell in darkness. What I saw when she did this was an endless ocean of rising and falling waves, the crests of which were crowned with scars of rock. It was as if the Lord designed another sea and lost interest. He froze the waves and called them fells, and here I wandered. From afar you'd see my lonely silhouette against the night, and a useless cloak waving behind me in farewell of my past life.

But then someone lit a candle in my heart. I paused. I stared ahead at the light flickering in the distant window. "What?" I said softly, before peeling my hair from my face.

It's safe to say I headed for it.

On arrival, I saw it was a cottage. I heard the gate creak and slam before this revelation, thinking it some vile ghost stalking the land. Relief was my soul when the thatched roof came into view, lit scantily by the hearth in the bottom lattice.

I shivered at the gate. I couldn't bring myself to approach the door; what would they think? Oh, some lifeless, ugly lass is here, let's let her in. I think not. But then my core was fading. The fells were claiming me as their own. Already could I feel the soft hands of soil snake around my ankles, and the gentle breath of winter slice into my lungs.

It couldn't be helped. I sloshed up the path and knocked. The sound resonated. Above me, I saw the cottage ensnared by ivy. The door opened.

I was staring at a wrinkled lady; she was peering around the wood. I can not describe the worry plastered on her expression. In those eyes I saw only a defenceless angel, "May I help you?"

I found it hard to respond. Behind, the welcoming light of the hearth illuminated an old woman's house. Finally, I said, "I am sorry about this. I am so lost and alone. I didn't mean to disturb you, I just have nowhere to go."

Her eye studied my face. She twitched her expression into one of loss, "I have no room here."

"Just on the floor will do. I beg of you."

"You can't expect to sleep there. You must go elsewhere." She said with solemnity.

"But where?" I said, my tears mingling with the rain. "I have nowhere. I am going to die. Please help me."

A pause. "This can't be done."

Her face began to die behind the closing door. I stopped it with a thud. She started. I said, "Please. You can't leave me here."

"I am alone," She retracted behind the door. "How do I know you're to be trusted?"

I couldn't answer that. All I did was convey a shadow across my face, one that said if left out her tonight, I would surely die.

"Child...By God's hand you were guided here. You must sleep on the floor."

Warmth exploded in my heart. I wanted to kiss her, "Oh, my dear lady. I am eternally grateful. I ask only to stay the night."

She nodded and moved aside. I entered. Immediately I was hit with heat and life. The aroma of a rich broth swirled about my nostrils, a crackling fire snapped at my ears. "A lovely house." I said. But no sooner had I brought these words to my lips before I hit the ground. One thing lingered in my senses before all faded to black: a white figure stood at the door.

Time is a funny thing. In moments of the purest joy, it speeds by like a child late for class. In moments of the purest boredom, it is a snail carrying the world in his shell. In the moments of unconsciousness, it is long and short. A thick and a thin liquid. Maybe rainclouds drop the hours as a drizzle, maybe hurricanes release torrents of years. Does it trickle down the stream of your mind, or does it thunder upon rock, lashing down cliffs? In my case, it simply evaporated, for when I woke, no notion of the time passed did I know.

I did know bubbling, however. At least, this is what I heard. Following this, the sensation of a knitted material softened against my skin. I ached a finger to touch it; it was a blanket. On opening my eyes, I was in a small bed, in a small room. Low beams were adorned with assortments such as dried herbs and weaved wood. The sound of bubbling was from behind the closed door; somebody was bustling about in there.

I felt clean. Cleaner than having icy rainwater shower you, that is. And just then my memory was flooded. I recalled where I was - or where I should be - and tried to get up. I say tried; a universal aching had married with my body, and took full control over the household. Arm and leg were in effect useless. "I hope I'm ok. Where is the woman?" I asked myself.

An answer drifted in: the woman. Her face was red and lively. She smiled at me, "My child. You are awake." I felt her sit on the bed and rest a hand on my face. I couldn't help smiling.

"I can't express my gratitude. Oh, am I still in your home?"

"Yes. You fainted. I thought you badly hit your head. Are you feeling okay?"

"I have a headache. My faculties are all here, though" I laughed. She did, too. "How long have I been here?"

"Three days. God has watched over you, my girl."

I rested a hand on hers. She gasped at the touch, "And you watched over me. I will repay you for this."

"Nonsense!" Pulling away her hand. "I do what is right. Now, I made you some broth, and you will eat it." She giggled before shuffling out the room. A motherly aura embraced her. When I was around her, I felt at utter ease. She now held a bowl before me; steam wisped to my nose and condensed on my cheeks. It smelled like a dish crafted by an expert.

On wolfing it down, the smell was not exaggerating. Soon after, I melted into a fuzzy, safe sleep.

Another few days passed before I regained my strength. A divorce commenced in my body. I watched the groom storm out of the window. Now in control of my limbs, I let a toe touch the wooden floor. It was cold. A change in weather was not enacted; still rain poured upon the howling fells. How unbelievable to think I was so close to becoming a corpse on that yellow grass, and now I was a fully living human being, strong and thankful.

The cottage revealed itself to be everything I expected. Remnants of a woman's life scattered here and there; a faint light hushed from the fire; above, the ceiling arched into a prism of sorts.

When I looked down, I found the woman sleeping on the floor. A blanket, tattered and useless, was wrapped around her. I wanted to rouse her, and tell her I had no more use for her bed. But she looked tranquil. I watched her chest rise and fall, listen to a soft snoring mingle with the crackling logs.

I smiled and let my shoulders loosen. Within an instant, they were tight again. A heavy banging erupted at the door. It shook the foundations of my peace and invoked a deerlike angst.

"Open please," A man's voice said firmly. Despite being muffled, it carried a penetrating power.

I looked at the woman. She was startled awake, yet she quickly obtained her senses and stared at me. A thousand expressions swam upon her face.

With a rush, I was almost forced into the bedroom. I hid as well as I could beneath the bed; dead spiders guarded there.

Then I heard her open the front door.

"Yes, sir?" She carried that same worried tone as when I first met her.

"Hello, ma'am. I am here on official business. How is your day going?" I let the heavy words carry through the cottage and land on my ears. I trembled.

"My day was going well. You woke me."

"I do apologise, ma'am. The King's Guard aren't employed to wake you," Two forced laughs. "Now, may I come in?"

She paused. The pause was thick. "I am afraid not, sir. My house is a tip. I wouldn't want to embarrass myself before a handsome soldier such as yourself."

"I do not mind, ma'am."

"Well, you can't expect an old spinster to allow her house to be seen like this. At least give me a few minutes to clean."

"I don't think so," I was surprised by the acute delivery these words were said. "I am honestly not here to judge your housekeeping skills."

I could picture her face, shadowy and afraid, "Sir, I don't want you in my home. A home that my late husband built.

He laughed; a deep, false thing, "I have the authority to enter."

"But may I ask why you are so inclined to enter?"

"All I ask is to enter, have a look around, and leave. There is no reason to trouble yourself."

"I apologise for feeling troubled at having a tall, armed man demand entry into my home. Please, tell me your business."

I felt a grin spread over my face. That grin soon turned sour.

"If you are so desperate to know, then I will inform you that a young woman has recently committed a vile crime. She ran away before anyone could catch her." He said the words so seriously. A fire of horror caught in my breast. "She is suspected to be in these parts."

Another dense pause, "I have seen no woman lately, sir."

"Then you have nothing to hide," I heard him shift; his armour clanked like a funeral bell.

"I apologise, but -"

Here she was cut off by his voice, which changed swiftly to severity and intimidation, "I am going to give you one last chance to let me in. Otherwise I will arrest you."

This third and final pause was grim. It let me ruminate for a second; all I could think was "what am I to do? How can I do this?"

The woman let him in. How heavy his footsteps were thunder could not rival. I feared they'd startle the dead spiders at my side, and wake them up as evil spider zombies.

It seemed the only thing possible was to pray that he would not have the intelligence to look under the bed. Unfortunately, his voice contradicted that; he was a man in full control of his mind. And when he looked under the bed, I knew I was going to be caught. Luckily, I also had the intelligence to slip into the wardrobe. But he looked there, too, and I was caught, and dragged out by my hair.

His grasp was tight, unyielding. I screamed as he pulled me to the front door; I was a blur, like a frantic animal caught in a rope.

"Sir! That is my daughter!" The woman cried.

He threw me to the path outside. Cold, hard stone impressed on my chin. "I will question her later," Was the response.

I tried to look at him, but he pushed my head down with his solid boot. The rain swirled about me; muddy water made up that plain face of mine.

"You can't take her!" She tried to push past him. All I heard was a thud of denial.

"Don't think about it, ma'am."

"I can't be left alone in this winter without my child! I will surely die."

I winced as a stone stabbed at my heart.

"Ma'am, she will be back sooner than the snow if she is not who we think she is," He smiled; I could hear it taint the air. "However, if she is the girl who did that awful deed, then we'll be back to get you."

Mournfully the wind passed through the torrent. I saw a four-legged beast at the end of the path neigh angrily through frigid air.

"Ma'am," He continued calmly to the woman. I at this point had stopped struggling. "Would you sign this contract to say if your experience with the King's Guard was positive or negative?" I heard the unravelling of a scroll.

"How dare you!" She cried again, shrill. "That is my daughter."

"I don't believe it. Now, if you would, sign under where my name is: Edward Cullen. Farewell, have a nice day."

He walked up the path swiftly. My hair was grasped again and I was thrust onto the back of a black horse. He mounted it, too. His armour was my rest as I faded into a hellish coma.

Before I totally lost control, my last sight was of the woman weeping by the door, and my door closing on her grief stricken face.