The Third Wife
Disclaimer: Yeah, okay, I don't own Twilight or its characters. Go figure.
Wrote this while I was bored and decided to post it. The Third Wife from the legends, to whom Bella relates to so well.
Human and worthless, that's what I was.
...Or, at least, that what I felt like, anyway.
Really, though, what else could I possibly be? I had no special powers, no magical blood flowing through my veins, and, as I stood by and watched my husband battle ferociously with the wretchedly beautiful creature before me, completely and utterly useless.
My son was already dead. This...this thing, this glittering white woman with skin like snow and eyes like coal, whose beauty and glory defied all the rightful laws of the world, possessed overwhelmingly natural speed and strength. It was she who had done it, the horrible deed, the very murder. My poor child, Yaha Uta, was such a good boy, so kind and caring and brave, but this Cold Woman's technique was just too much for him.
The ocean wind pulsed through my ears, and I could see his lifeless body from here, lying crumpled in a huddled heap upon the sandy beach. The very same shores where he had played an innocent child, screaming joyous peals of laughter and not having a care in the world...
Giving a brief shake of my head, I pushed the miserable memories away. He was dead now, never to breathe again, never to once more draw the salty sea air into his young lungs, never to run with the breeze flowing through his grown-out black hair. Swallowing hard, I turned back to watch the Cold Woman once more.
It's not like seeing her gave me any sense of relief, though. For now my husband, my dear Taha Aki, in the towering wolf form he had not used in so long, raged fiercely against her, with the force of revenge behind his razor claws and furry shoves. I loved him with all of my heart, and now...now what? I didn't need to be psychic, or have special features, or own any extraordinary talents at all, to know that he was not going to make it. He would die, just like my son.
And then, when he, our final protector, was gone as well? It wasn't a question. There was no doubt in the entire universe, not one tiny scrap of hope, that, when Taha Aki was killed, my other sons would die, too. My family. The whole tribe would die, for the Spirit Warriors' sakes! And there was nothing I, a mere human, could do about it.
Yet, as I clutched my youngest son's hand tightly in mine, I realized that I was wrong.
Wrong, because there was something I could do to help them. To save them.
Tears formed in my eyes and threatened to bubble over like the boiling water in the kettle over the fire, churning, screaming, shaking. I blinked to clear my vision, which sent them sprawling across my cheeks in eerie patterns, hot and salty, and lifted my face to the sky. A cool breeze whispered across the beach from the sea, lifting strands of my ebony hair to blow away behind me.
Closing my lids for the briefest moment, I saw my life flash before me; my children frolicking among the woods, the sweet pine scent of the wood boards in my new house, my husband's arms around me, caressing, holding, loving...
I whipped around and snatched the old hunting knife from the belt of my son. Shrieking a fearsome war cry, I sprinted forward, dagger in hand, running head-on towards where the Cold Woman grappled with my transfigured husband. For I was doing this for him. I would not, could not, let him and my tribe down. This was something I had to do.
Hatred fuming in me, I saw the pale-skinned creature glance at me out of the corner of her eye without breaking her concentration. She smirked at me, showing perfect sets of glowing white, razor-sharp teeth. It was almost like her thoughts entered my mind, rudely pushing their way in. Fearsome murmurs echoing throughout my head.
Nice try, little human. Ha; you cannot hurt me! Not with the stupid piece of metal, nor with your little puppy here's pitiful swipes. Prepare to die.
A scream of rage ripped from my throat as I threw myself down upon the ground at her pearly feet. Raising my gaze to the heavens for the very last time, I raised the weapon into the still, slight air, grasping the handle firmly with both hands, and plunged it into my chest with all of my possible strength.
Crimson liquid spurted out from between my fingers and sprayed up onto my face, although I was hardly aware of it. What was there to feel? All I knew was that I was already dead, the mourning, grieving spirits of my ancestors winding close around my rising soul, leading me away to where you can never return from. Looking back weakly, I saw the Cold Woman, consumed by her thirst as I knew she would be, abandon the fight for one fatal second.
For you, I muttered through dead, unmoving lips. For you.
-yawn- Wasn't my best, I know. Still, reviews and feedback are appreciated.
--Annie;;/