Nora sat on the faded red leather benches that sat in the run down café and sighed. She had come to Forks in hope that the Twilight books were actually real but alas it seems that her imagination had run away with her once again. Nora Whishley was seventeen years old, had butt length (natural) white hair, stood at five foot seven, had strange odd coloured eyes. The left was so dark that it was almost black with a white pupil and the right was bright violet with a yellow pupil. They were the reason that she wore thick sunglasses that hid all of her eyes. She had an overactive imagination that was so bad that if she really tried to imagine something then it would appear, only to her eyes of course, and she had a foul temper. One that would probably rival a newborns and she had a problem with being touched. Any physical contact made her feel as if she was being touched by something vile and her skin was trying to crawl off as it was so sensitive. Hence the reason why she wore long sleeved shirts and thick leather gloves.
She looked around barely containing her boredom and was about to leave when a huge guy walked into the café. Normally she would have ignored him but some things caught her eye. It was snowing outside and the guy only wore cut off jeans, his skin was russet brown, he was freakishly tall and he seemed to have a big temperature. All the signs of a werewolf/shape shifter. She was probably totally wrong and it might have been a bit stalker-ish but she decided to follow him.
As soon as she left the café she saw him disappear into the woods and she knew she would never be able to follow him now. Darkness started to fall so she hoisted her pack up onto her shoulders more comfortably and began to walk. That was the way she travelled and she liked it. She liked being able to go wherever she wanted and be herself, not forced to blend in with society like little sheep herded into separate pens. As she walked Nora felt the stirring of unease in the pit of her stomach and instantly tensed. A sweet smell floated towards her on the wind and her mind tried to match the smell to anything except what couldn't be true. It matched the smell of Edward Cullen.