Hi everyone! Here is the first chapter to my second fanfiction. :) Just to give you a little info, Brynn Lahote (main character) is the middle child of esteemed imprint couple, Paul and Rachel. I hope you follow her through her roller-coaster of a journey. I assure you that it's going to be a VERY good one ;)

For those of you who don't already know me, my first imprint fanfiction (also a second generation fic) is completed and waiting for you to read it. ;) ;)

And as always, please don't forget to review. They mean the world!

Enjoy :)

The waves crashed angrily against the shore of First Beach in the crisp, spring morning. The sky was a mixture of light pinks and oranges and the colours blended together as the sun slowly began to rise. The air was chilly but also held the promise of being a nice, mild day.

It was still cold enough to make me shiver as the wind rustled the ends of my hair. I moved my blue sneakers out of harm's way just in time as the waves inched closer towards me. I pulled the lip of my black windbreaker closer to the edge of my chin and rested my hands on the top of my knees as my eyes penetrated the shoreline.

I knew that it was much too early to even think about being at the beach right now. The cold mist spraying up onto my face was enough to prove that to anyone. I probably should have at least waited until the sun was high in the sky. That was the golden rule—the one I had grown up with—no going out in the dark alone.

But desperate times call for desperate measures and for goodness sake, I just wanted some alone time. I was tired of feeling like everyone was breathing down my neck all the time. I felt smothered by my overprotective family members. I supposed that yes; it was nice to feel loved and I did appreciate everyone's efforts to make sure I was safe. But I could take care of myself and the sooner everyone realized that, the better it would be.

I was not a little kid anymore. I was a tenth grader and almost fifteen years old. I no longer needed to be babysat, despite what everyone else seemed to think.

The wind whistled again, shaking the trees behind me loudly. I hunched my shoulders further in my coat, trying to get any extra warmth that I could find. Next time I decided to sneak out of my house in the middle of the night, I needed to remember to do two things beforehand. One, I needed to make sure that it wasn't cold enough to grow icicles on my nose and two, if it was cold enough to do so, to dress in a lot of layers.

Despite how cold I was there was no possible way I could go home now. I had managed to sneak out without getting caught by anyone—a true accomplishment if I did say so myself. I had to see out my success, even if it meant getting hypothermia because of it. Besides the fact that if I went home now, I would surely get caught sneaking back in and then be grounded for the rest of my life. Then, all my hard work would have been for nothing.

And I was definitely not up for being locked away in my bedroom until I was forty; something that Dad had threatened me with more than once before. The thing was, I couldn't tell if he was bluffing or if he was being dead serious. I wasn't willing to take the chance either way.

Part of my success was covered by the slight concern that was beginning to turn in the pit of my stomach. How had I managed to get out of my house without anyone knowing? Dad was a known heavy sleeper, but he had a set of ears on him like a hawk. He heard everything and always complained about birds chirping outside the house at five A.M. or a tree branch brushing against the window of his bedroom. The things normal people usually slept through, he just didn't. Plus, my brother was constantly in and out of the house on a regular basis now. How had I managed to slip past his radar?

Thinking more about it now, I really needed to give myself more credit for my escape than I had been. I had officially done the impossible. I, Brynn Lahote, had snuck out of my house at three o'clock in the morning without getting caught. I mean, I had frozen half to death while doing so and had snagged my hand on the sharp tree branch outside my bedroom window, but I had done it nonetheless.

Battle wounds, I reminded myself.

I was just beginning to relax and enjoy the solitude that came with the territory of First Beach. The thought of getting caught had nearly left my mind until a very loud and sharp voice broke through the peaceful silence.

"Brynn Lahote, get your sorry ass over here before I kick it straight to Canada."

I squeezed my eyelids shut in frustration. I was so done for.

With a soft sigh, I got to my feet quickly, knowing that stalling would only make things worse. I brushed the damp grains of sand off the seat of my faded jeans and trudged through the deep sand in the direction the voice had come from. I kept my eyes on the squishy sand beneath my feet, trying to avoid the furiousness across his face that I could feel radiating from several feet away. I refused to look at his face, knowing that the anger in his eyes would easily ruin my calm façade. I supposed I was somewhat of a hypocrite; I was wimp. Getting in trouble was not something I enjoyed doing and it definitely hadn't been my intention when sneaking out of my house today.

My feet stopped on their own accord when my eyes found a pair of bare, russet-coloured feet in front of me. Before I could say a word, a rough, burning-hot hand gently tilted my chin up so I wasn't looking at the ground. I bit my lip as I met his eyes straight on, trying not to relay the fear I felt through my facial expression.

My cousin, Ethan Call, was definitely not a happy camper at this early morning hour. His face revealed his extreme exhaustion through the dark circles that stood out against his tanned skin, nestled under his brown eyes. His black hair was unruly and windblown, like he had run the entire way here; I wouldn't be surprised if that was the case. Emotions battled for placement on his face, starting at anger and ending at concern as his eyes travelled across my face, searching for any visible injuries.

"Are you hurt?" he asked in his soft voice.

I slowly hid my bloody palm behind my back, desperately trying to keep my face neutral. I knew that he if even saw a hint of the cut; he would overreact and have the entire tribe at the beach in a matter of minutes. I was hoping that since the blood was nearly dry, that he wouldn't be able to smell it with his stronger, supernatural sense of smell. I carefully edged my sleeve over my hand, as if it would create a barrier between it and everything else.

"No," I said quickly with a quieter voice than normal.

Ethan's eyes searched my face again, even more thorough than the first time. After a moment, he dropped his hand from my chin, letting it fall back slowly to his side.

I self-consciously reached up and rubbed my chin with my good hand, feeling embarrassed all of the sudden. My cheeks continued to burn as my eyes fell back to the sand underneath our feet.

"Do you know how much trouble you're in?" Ethan said after a moment, catching my attention once more.

I winced, but still didn't look up. "Is it bad?" I knew it was; there was an obvious answer to my ridiculous question but for some reason, I still felt the need to ask.

"Your mom was literally about five minutes away from calling the cops until we caught your scent over this way," he informed me. "Almost the whole pack was out here looking for you."

Great, I thought bitterly. Apparently I hadn't gone as unnoticed as I had thought. Well, it had been nice while it lasted.

"What were you thinking, Brynnie?" Ethan asked sternly. "Do you realize what could have happened? You could have been hurt."

Here comes the lecture.

Ethan was only a year older than me—the same age as my older brother. But, because we were cousins and because he was my brother's best friend, he was extremely overprotective. His protective nature was something I was sure he had inherited from his parents, but it had kicked up a massive notch after he had phased. He was my favourite cousin and I loved him to death, but some personal space would be okay every once in a while too. He was more like a mother hen and less like a ferocious werewolf.

"Nothing happened!" I cried out without meaning to. Roll with the punches, Brynn. "Why couldn't you have just gone home and told them I was okay? Now everything is blown way out of proportion! I was perfectly fine out here on my own, obviously."

"You're lucky," Ethan shouted back. "Something definitely could have happened! Don't you realize that? You could have been killed, Brynn. Don't you ever think?"

"Of course I think," I exclaimed. "That's all I ever do, Ethan. Maybe I'm tired of thinking about consequences all the time! I'm a teenager for God's sake! Aren't I supposed to act all rebellious and crap?"

He was about to yell right back at me once more, when the wind whirled again, sending sand and scattered raindrops everywhere. Our argument dissipated quickly. I couldn't feel my fingers or the end of my nose.

Ethan's warm, steady arm settled over the top of my shoulders, pulling me close to his side. "Come on," he murmured softly. "Let's get you home."

He led me towards the edge of the forest at the back of the beach, where I knew he had just appeared from moments ago. My feet skidded to a halt at the edge of the trees and I pushed at his bare chest. I was not going in there. He had lost all sense if he thought I was.

"Brynn," he said, sighing through his nose in frustration. "This is the quickest way back to your house."

I planted my feet in the sand stubbornly. "Then you go that way and I'll meet you home."

There was no way he was going to get me to walk through there, no matter how much time it cut off from the walk back to my house. Not even if pigs sprouted wings and flew all over La Push. I was not walking through the forest. I refused to. Just the thought of it sent shivers down my spine.

"I'll be right beside you," Ethan soothed at my ear. His hands pushed firmly on my lower back, forcing me to move forward without my consent. "You know I'd never let anything happen to you."

I could feel the edge of a panic attack inching up my throat. "No, Ethan, please," I begged, nearly on the verge of tears.

The hands on my back disappeared and settled on the top of my shoulders instead. Ethan stood in front of me now, his eyes uncharacteristically serious as he watched me with concern.

"Okay, okay," he murmured, squeezing my shoulders. "Just calm down."

I took a deep, shuddering breath and began trying to slow my breathing back down to its normal pattern. I hadn't realized it had become unsteady; I was near the edge of hyperventilation. The lump in my throat slowly began to dissipate as my breathing become regular again. I hastily brushed a tear off of my cheek in embarrassment, my fingers shaking as I did so.

God, I was a mess. I couldn't be a mess—not here, in front of my poor cousin. It was one of the only rules I had for myself; I didn't cry in front of anyone. It was hard, but I wasn't going to show any weakness. I couldn't be weak when I was one of few girls in a family full of shapeshifters. It just wasn't an option.

Ethan waited patiently and silently until I had gotten myself back under control. Slowly, he let go over my shoulders and wound his arm around my waist. He started walking towards the stone path that I knew led to the parking lot on the edge of the beach, dragging me along with him.

I kept silent. I was embarrassed that I had allowed myself to get so worked up in front of him like that. I knew he wouldn't be able to keep my minor freak-out to himself. The next time he phased, it would be put on display in his mind for the rest of the pack members to see; like a big movie screen inside your own mind. There were never any secrets.

"We'll get you over that someday," Ethan said almost to himself.

My mind travelled to what he was talking about.

When I had been four years old, my father had still been an active member of the pack. Most of his generation still was, either because their kids were still really young or they didn't have any yet. I hadn't been aware of what the pack was back then, though. What set of parents in their right minds would trust a four year old with that kind of secret?

My parents had wanted to keep me as sheltered as possible for as long as they could. They had wanted my siblings and me to have as normal childhood as possible before we needed to be educated on the horrors that make up the supernatural world that my family was bound to.

There had been one specific day where a newborn vampire had been unleashed into La Push. It had slipped past the boundaries that separate La Push from Forks and had travelled right up onto First Beach, very close to where I had been sitting earlier. Every single member of the pack had been called out to chase that very vampire, including my father.

Even at four, I had been a known worrier. I had been a timid kid, terrified of a lot of things. But one thing that I hadn't seemed to understand was where my father could possibly be going at one o'clock in the morning. So, I had done what any naïve toddler would have done.

I followed him.

At one o'clock in the morning, I rightly should have been in my bed. Mom was busy with my other two siblings at the time. My brother had been terribly sick that day and my younger sister had only been a year old, completely dependent on her for everything. Dad leaving the house had awoken me and with my mother so preoccupied, she had never even noticed that I had slipped out of the house seconds later, wanting to know where my father was going.

I had never been in the woods before. I supposed that was with good reason; the woods were no place for a four year old. And that was obvious enough when I had gotten lost after only a few moments alone. I had fallen over some sort of broken tree trunk and had cut my leg pretty badly. The scent of my blood had sent the newborn vampire into a complete frenzy and it hadn't taken him long to join me at my location.

The vampire had touched my arm. It had only been for just a mere second, but I could still remember it like it had happened yesterday. His sparkling, stark white paper-skin, his blood-red eyes; everything about him had been so utterly terrifying. I hadn't obviously known what he truly was, but instead of being enticed by the unknown, my four-year-old mind seemed to understand that this creature was dangerous.

The stupid vampire had nearly killed me; nearly drained my tiny, little body of blood. The pack had shown up without a moment to spare. The wolves had scared the wits out of me, but not nearly as much as that horrifying, undead-being had. I had never seen my father angrier than he had been that very day. The pack had saved my life.

The incident had pretty much ruined a lot of my childhood. I hadn't been able to sleep without succumbing to intense nightmares that replayed that very day for me over and over again. They had gone on for months and sometimes, when I was too stressed out, I still had them. My poor mother still hadn't forgiven herself for letting me out of her sight. She always claimed that I was the good child; the one she never had to worry about getting into any sort of trouble.

I didn't feel like a good child, though. I had caused my parents so much grief over such stupid, childish curiousity. I should have been smarter and never followed Dad into the woods and because I did, I had seen my four years of life flash before my eyes. I had forced my family to introduce my brother and I into a world that we hardly understood, but knew we was destined to be a part of. I had ruined my brother's childhood.

And because of that day, ten years later, I still refused to set any foot inside the woods.

I supposed that maybe that was why everyone seemed to be overreacting about me sneaking out today. My poor mother was probably at her wits end with worry. I hadn't meant to cause any trouble. When I had been unable to sleep last night, the first solution that came to mind was to get out of the house and go to the beach. I guess old habits never die young.

"Stop it," Ethan murmured.

I jumped at the sound of his voice. "Stop what?" I asked with confusion.

"Stop overthinking everything and blaming yourself," Ethan ordered simply.

There wasn't a way to deny that I hadn't a clue what he was talking about. Ethan was very good at reading people. The conflict had to be as clear as day on my face for him. He knew without a doubt that I was thinking about that day.

He pulled me closer to his side, sensing my distress. "God, it's cold. Couldn't you have run away on a warmer day?"

I frowned. "I didn't run away, Ethan. I just couldn't sleep."

"So you couldn't have stayed up all night and watched pointless TV like a normal person?"

"Apparently not," I retorted icily.

We walked for fifteen minutes before we finally reached my home. I'm sure Ethan could have done it in five, but I was walking extra slow on purpose. I didn't want to face the music. But sure enough, when my house came into view, I was simply out of time and out of luck.

I stopped suddenly at the edge of the concrete driveway, catching Ethan by surprise judging by the way he ran into my back, nearly knocking me to the ground. There weren't as many cars parked out front as I expected, but every single light was on inside the house. I took a deep sigh. The two-storey home with light brown brick had never looked more daunting than it had at this very moment.

I was thirty seconds away from going into hiding when I noticed a tall figure hopped over the white porch railing, hurrying over to us.

My older brother certainly resembled my father at this moment. His whole body radiated with anger and he looked like was barely holding it together. I grimaced at the sight of how black his eyes had gotten, knowing they were only that dark when he was absolutely furious. He reached us in a few long strides and his brows squished together as he looked me over thoroughly.

I suddenly wondered how awful I looked. As I saw my brother's face darken, I could feel my resolve begin to crumble.

He stopped in front of me and his scorching palms cupped my cheeks as he studied every single inch of my face. My bottom lip trembled as I tried to avoid his gaze.

"Do you know how fucking worried I was?" he cried. "Are you right stupid?"

My eyes went blurry as tears formed in them. "I'm sorry."

"Damn right you are. I can't even believe that you would do something like this, Brynn. What in God's name were you thinking?"

"Calm down, Tate," Ethan urged fiercely. He stepped towards us, laying a hand on my brother's trembling shoulder.

I leaned away from him, realizing that he was the one shaking. Shaking was an understatement; the boy was a vibrating blur. I held my breath, knowing that if he phased, I would surely be dead or worse.

My brother, Ethan, and several other boys around their age had all recently phased in the past few months. Ethan had been the first of their group and my brother was the most recent. He had phased three weeks ago and was obviously still adjusting to his heightened anger issues. This situation clearly wasn't making matters much better for anyone.

Tate took a shuddering, deep breath, dropping his hands from my face. He took a measured step back. Moments later, the shaking was gone. "Look at me," he ordered carefully.

My eyes went to his after a moment of slight hesitation.

"Did you get hurt?" he asked sternly. "Did anyone hurt you at all?"

He was talking to me like I was some sort of child and I resented it. But save him getting worked up all over again, I just shook my head quickly. I had to pick my battles.

I figured he would probably yell some more, telling me how stupid I was and how I could have died. But he surprised me by taking a deep sigh and pulling me towards his chest. He held me tightly and rested his chin on the top of my head. After a moment, I wrapped my arms around him in return, pressing my face against his chest to protect it from the bitter wind.

His warm hands gently rubbed up and down my back, generating heat throughout my body. Slowly, his familiar scent and the warmth from his hands relieved the tenseness from my shoulders. He held me carefully yet firmly, like I might break at any given moment.

"I love you," he whispered. "Please don't scare me like that again."

My brother may have had a terrible temper, but he was getting better at controlling it. With us only being a year apart, we had always been very close with one another. I had always found him to be one of the few people who were truly able to comfort me. He understood me. But he was also a protective nut when it came to things like this.

The front door fumbled open loudly and we all froze.

"Bring her inside, Tate," a deep voice ordered. It sounded like Dad and the undercurrent of anger in his voice was pretty obvious.

Without another word, the door slammed shut again, swinging back and forth on its hinges. Tate's arms dropped from around me like he had been shocked. He and Ethan started towards the house without another word. I didn't follow them.

Tate spun around once they reached the porch, realizing I wasn't right behind them.

I leaned down and plucked a piece of damp grass, holding it in my fingers tightly.

"What are you doing, Brynnie?" Ethan asked, staring at me like I had grown two heads.

I straightened up, blushing, and wiped my hand on my jeans. "Just saying goodbye to the grass," I explained, like it was the most normal thing in the world to do. "After I talk to Mom and Dad, I'll probably never get to see it again.

With a deep sigh, I trudged towards the house.

I was in so much trouble.

So a little look through Brynn's eyes. Please review and let me know what you think! Thanks for reading :) New chapters will be posted weekly (to the best of my ability - give me a break, I'm a freshman in college ;) ) so keep an eye out!