She was irrefutably sure that this was something she would never become accustomed to. Even now, after she had been doing it for years, she despised herself for it. She detested what the scent-even a lingering odor of blood- did to her. And though she had been taking part in this barbaric hunt for her food for nearly a century now, it never left her feeling any better about herself. Each time she sunk her teeth into that warm, fleshy neck of her chosen prey, she wanted to gag. It disgusted her. In her human life, she was sure that she'd rarely-if ever- eaten red meat, and even then, it wasn't just the blood of the animal that fulfilled her appetite.
She had certainly tried, sometime between the 1930s and now, to avoid blood. It had ended quickly and painfully though, and it was only with Carlisle and Esme's help that she had finally been able to sink into this treacherous lifestyle.
As she stood absolutely still among the trees, she heard the sound of crackling wood to her right. A slight look to the left confirmed her suspicion; a buck was carefully making his way through the woods. A pang of regret filled her, but it didn't stop her from racing after the animal. Just as he began to flee, she caught him. Sinking her teeth into him, her mind exploded in a fury of released tension. The hunger quickly dissipated throughout her, and her body was filled with an almost warming sensation. It was a relief from the insatiable desire for blood, and she remained that way for a moment, getting her fill of the animal.
When at last she allowed the buck to fall from her grasp, she fell to her knees beside the animal. It always took her a moment after she fed to recover fully. It was the closest thing she knew next to carnal pleasure. She took a deep breath, allowing the air to fill her lungs and exit through her mouth. Breathing always helped her regain her composure.
Of course, feeding didn't only leave her with feelings of comfort and fulfillment. She was also met by the disgust and unhappiness that usually accompanied one of her blood frenzies. This was why she often preferred to hunt alone. She hated for her family members to see her like this, on her knees and so vulnerable to the sickness that inhabited all of them.
The rush in her head finally slowed, and she forced herself to stand, her knees still trembling somewhat. Brushing her pants off with one hand, she swallowed and then raised her head. Her hair blew softly in the breeze, golden strands whipping gently in the air. After another moment of composure, she began through the woods again, moving slower this time.
She moved through the trees and brush. She knew this path well. These woods were far behind the Cullen home, but they often came out here to hunt. It was far enough away from the city that the residents of Forks weren't usually out here, and one had to make an active trek to find it. It served their purposes well.
She knew she was a few miles from her house when she heard a strange sound, unlike anything she would expect to her within the woods. It was such an unusual sound that she froze completely in place, her fine hearing attuned to each and every sound within her exceptional listening distance.
The noise began as a soft crackling sound, almost like the sound of boots against the dead ground. However, after just a moment, she realized that she had been mistaken. Without thinking, or even considering her safety, she took off through the trees. It had taken her only seconds to recognize the unmistakable sound. It was something she hadn't heard since her living years, but it was a sound she had never let leave her mind.
As she entered the clearing from which the sound came, her movement came to an abrupt halt. Out of either surprise or another overwhelming emotion, she sucked her breath in. Her eyes scanned the brush and her feet truly felt like the stone they were. She was unable to move for a moment, but forced herself forward and then stumbled on the ground, pulling herself to a certain spot on the ground.
In front of her, the source of the sound waited. It was completely different from what she'd expected. She wasn't sure what she had been thinking she would find, but this certainly was not it. Her thoughts raced, her hands trembled as she stared at the object in front of her.
"Oh, God," she let the words slip through her lips, her fingers clutching at the earth as she reached for the object in front of her. A shrill noise broke the absolute silence of her environment, and, in spite of herself, she felt a laugh forming in the back of her throat.
She felt as if she were crying, though she knew that was ridiculous. There would be no tears- there hadn't been any since the beginning of the twentieth century. But the feeling was so overwhelming and difficult, a nearly intoxicating emotion that threatened to spill out of her in one way or another.
It was a small basket, no more than two feet wide, and the inside was full of soft white cloth. Feeling suddenly out of control of her own movement, she peeled the cloth back gently, biting down on her lip.
A shrill cry sounded from beneath the cloth, and Rosalie swallowed hard. Leaning closer to examine the basket, her eyes fell over the child inside. It was a pink, healthy-looking human. More than that, it was an infant. A baby.
Judging from what she had known about children in life, she assumed the infant was no more than a few weeks old. Her body was tiny, her fingers and toes still curled involuntarily at her blankets. Rosalie had often heard the expression about a human's heart skipping a beat, and she swore that if her heart had been beating, that's exactly what would have happened.
Cautiously, and before daring to touch the child, she backed up, glancing around her. There were no other humans around. She caught their scent in the air, and dashed through the woods, following it for a mile or so, until it suddenly faded away. There was nothing left, there were no other clues to the whereabouts of this infant's parents.
Hurrying back to the spot in the clearing, she glanced down at the baby. It blinked up at her, took a deep breath, and let a soft whine slip through its lips. Rosalie felt herself trembling again, bit down on her tongue, and then bent closer to the child. Its dark eyes remained on her, as if it had been seeking her out.
Crouching on the ground, she carefully slipped her fingers under the child, making sure to bring its blanket along. She lifted it out of the blanket, brought it close to her chest, and gazed into the sweet, perfect face of the child. A dusting of blonde hair sprouted from her small head, and the infant squirmed lightly in her arms.
Though she knew it was stupid, ridiculous even, she felt like she needed to say something. She felt as if this moment wouldn't be complete until she broke the silence.
"You're beautiful," the words came out in a hushed whisper, and then for another moment, she studied the baby silently. The baby's face, even at such a young age, was unmistakably feminine. Her tiny lips curved up at the side, her eyelashes were long and a shade darker than her hair. "A beautiful little girl."
She studied her for another moment, disbelieving in this moment. Where were her parents? Who would have left such a beautiful child alone in the forest- this deep in the forest? It was puzzling to her. Still, without giving it another though, she wrapped the baby snugly in its blanket, pulled it to her chest, and began back to her home. She was blissfully unaware and uncaring of what her family would think of this rash decision. She could recognize the hypocrisy in her actions, but this was different. She couldn't very well leave a child alone in the woods. Animals would attack her, or worse... other... things. The thought disgusted her and she continued on through the woods.
She could only focus, as she made her way to the house, of the child in her arms, who was certainly everything she had ever wanted out of life, and the only living creature whose beauty could easily surpass her own.