Paul could feel the change in the air when he stepped out that night. The obsidian sky hid the moon, pushing the dim natural light from the stars onto them like it was a punishment. Normally, he would be able to hear the scurried sounds of animals running to make room – and there was always room that needed be made when every member of the pack was counted for – their small hearts pattering as they moved across the forest floor like a drumline ensemble.

That night, there were no small eyes or heart beats for miles, and that should have been their first clue. Paul didn't realize it then, but when he thought back on that night, he remembered the silence. How quiet the naked trees were, how still their fallen leaves before they were disturbed by their sprint deeper. The stench – one they hadn't smelt in so long, not since the encounter with the Volturi – aided them in with wild chase. Wild, like ravenous hounds, practically seething at the invasion on their land.

"Paul, stop!" It wasn't a command, but a plea. He kept running. "We have to regroup before we go after them. We need to think of a plan. You're too far ahead, Paul."

Paul was already thinking of a "plan" – it began to visualize in his mind like a picture projected onto a screen. Paul, rushing into the group of disgusting vermin with his jaw wide and teeth sharp. The taste of cold glass on his foaming tongue as he tears it limb from limb, and the delightful screech of pain as he ended its pathetic existence.

"Paul – STOP. What are you doing?" This was not a voice he had to listen to, but a brother.

He felt that the answer was obvious.

"Killing them won't help anyone but yourself. Stop trying to be such a tough guy, asshole."

"It's not 'killing' if they're not really alive, is it?" His snarl dripped with acidity as he lunched through an open pasture. Alone.

There was a silence from all except one:

"He's really not going to stop." Another brother, one with a more youthful, sad reflection in his thought.

If Paul had been more aware, he would have noticed how the dim stars in the sky disappeared, leaving him alone with the darkness. Not completely alone.

Paul could smell them before he saw them. Sweet, unnaturally so, like candy that could rot your teeth. Like the hard candy he would find when he reached the bottom of his grandmother's sweets dish, all melted together and so utterly sweet he spit it back out. He physically recoiled, and that's when he stopped in the middle of the pasture, surrounded by Douglas firs and Ponderosa pines.

He saw them so suddenly, he would have thought something caught in his eye. A pair of white figures barely clothed suddenly appeared at the edge of the forest line directly across from him. They were both shaking and appeared ravenous, gnashing their teeth and looking at the strange beast in front of them with an untrained, twitchy eyes.

They were young – vampires just turned. The thought was an intrusion – a panicked observation from his younger brother.

It caused Paul to pause momentarily before opening his mouth and letting out a warning – a long howl that came from deep within in chest.

This proved to be his first deadly mistake.

Letting down his chin after smugly showing off his puffed fur and jowls, he saw the trees lined with more of them.

A dozen now, of cold, dead things, stood and stared right at him with blood in their eyes. Something had changed – the air, already cold at the sign of the first day of winter – had chilled. A shiver bunched at the top of this shoulders with the threat of a shiver.

Suddenly, a thousand thought clamored in his head, climbing on top of each other. One thought above all commanded his attention – RUN.

His second, and most costly mistake.

Turning around, running as fast as his paws could carry him, a feeling of relief just started to shine as he saw his brothers breech the tree line –

A sudden sharp pain caused him to yelp before snarling at the parasite on his back. Reaching for it, he caught an arm in his mouth and – crack – a scream as it shattered in his mouth. Bucking it off his back as another lunged for his leg, he kicked and roared. Another set of hands – cold, so cold – clawed their way on his body, more joining them, piercing him like spiders crawling under his skin, like the icy fangs of a venomous snake.

His heart hammering, he became painfully aware of the blood coursing through his veins. What they were after. Enraged that they would dare take him – take his blood, and what was in it that made him the creature he was to fight monsters like them – he started shaking and bucking them off, ripping off heads and limbs with his teeth. Chards of glass stuck between his fangs, cutting into his gums. A leech had the audacity to lunge for the blood seeping out of the corner of his mouth.

Taking him down onto the ground with their weight, more rushed past him toward his brothers – snapping their own jaws, howling in mockery as they circled the pack.

Looking up, he met the gaze of his brothers just before they attacked their enemy – the absolute fear and repulsion in their eyes as they looked at him made him so sick to his stomach that he had to look away –

Trapped under their weight –

The flood of panicking voices his mind –

His blood pooling around his body in rivers that they happily drink up –

Thoughts jumbled, trying to obey, trying make sense, trying to just fucking think –

Their sharp teeth slicing and tearing flesh –

More popping up to the replace the fallen –

And then –

Pain.