Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters mentioned in this story. They all belong to Stephenie Meyer. I'm just using them for non-profitable entertainment usage. However, I do own my three OCs mentioned in this chapter; Bailey, Dorian and Kendra. :)

Prologue


A small house sat nestled in a small clearing of the forest, yellow paint chipping in some areas and faded window panels hanging by a single rusted screw. A soft breeze blew from the west, carrying the scent of salt along with it. The lawn consisted of more moss than grass, which was forever accompanied by mud. A rusty metal mailbox stood a few feet from the house, bent at a slight angle with the number 47 painted on the side. A bright white sign was stuck into the ground, creaking slightly whenever the wind decided to blow again. Bold red letters that once read FOR SALE was now covered with a bright blue sticker that read SOLD.

Behind the house was the dense forest, concealing the cliffs that lead to the sea. The clouds looked gray and troublesome today. A storm was brewing, getting ready to wash over the tiny village. From the sound of the distant rumbles, it wouldn't seem surprising if landslides occurred. The birds were silent as they felt the storm approaching. Unbeknownst to people going about their normal daily lives, static was building up in the air, thickening the vapors and humidity that hung in the air. The waves crashed against the sand with a bit more force that usual, something that would not be easily observed by the average eye.

Hardly anyone ventured outside on days like these, not wanting to get caught in the oncoming rainstorm. No one bothered to look towards the cliffs to watch the usual crowd of hooligans fool around, knowing they would not venture out during weather conditions such as this. Be as it may, no one saw the lone mass of fur sitting on the edge of the highest cliff.

Bright black eyes stared across the sea, taking in every minute movement within his heightened peripheral vision. He did not feel the effects of the chilling temperature or the frost bitten ground. In fact, the ice instantly melted where he lay, head resting on his humongous paws.

He would sit there for several hours everyday whenever he had an opportunity to go unnoticed. His eyes were brooding, and every few minutes a great huff would escape his lungs.

His ears perked up at the sound of a faint howl, a calling. The wolf stood up on all four legs and shook out his fur. He gave out another quiet huff before turning west, in the direction of the howl. He passed through the tiny yard of the house, making sure to stay hidden in the underbrush. His ears twitched again when he heard a new sound.

A '69 Mustang pulled up in front of the house, the slick gray color indicating a recent paint job. The wolf rumbled quietly, a sound of appreciation. A car door opened and out stepped a tall woman that looked to be in her mid-twenties. She wore an outfit similar to that of Freddy Krueger; a green and red striped sweater, black skinny jeans, and black combat boots. Her long white-blond hair was her most prominent feature. Her eyes were shielded with aviator glasses.

"No, Dorian, we didn't get lost. We're right in front of the house," she said into her phone, her tone exasperated. There was a pause and she rolled her eyes. "Of course I know my way back. Quit badgering me!"

As the woman spoke, she opened the trunk of her car and pulled out several vintage looking suitcases, worn out travel stickers included. She continued to argue with the person over the phone, becoming angrier at each pause. The woman slammed the trunk shut and added more force with her foot on it. She pulled the tiny phone from her ear and began yelling.

"Shut up, Dorian! She's old enough to make her own decisions, and if she wants to stay here then let her!" she yelled, clenching her fist with her other hand. Another pause. "I don't care! Give her a chance! There's nothing more to say about it!"

The woman shut the phone and aimlessly threw it behind her. She picked up the suitcases and slugged them over her shoulder, walking toward the house. After fumbling through her pants pockets, she produced a small bronze key and quickly opened the door.

While the wolf watched the antics of the woman, his head cocked to the side. There was something familiar about the woman's voice, but he had no more time to ponder it because another howl signaled through the air. The wolf backed further into the underbrush, intent on taking a different route toward the source of the howl. He paused when he noticed another figure step out from the car. The peach pink colored dress and lacy floral pattern of the skirt made it obvious this figure was a girl, and clearly younger than the other woman. She wore an earthy colored parka with the hood pulled over her head, polka dot tights, and black suede boots. She was a foot shorter than the woman next to her and her demeanor was completely opposite. This girl was quiet and slow, not sluggish, but seeming to take more cautious steps than the reckless woman.

"Oh, come now. Aren't you the least bit excited?" The woman said, slinging her arm around the other girl's shoulders. "A house on your own and you get to make all the rules! At least smile!"

The girl's feet shifted, but the wolf still could not tell is she was smiling or not. He moved to get a closer look, suddenly curious, when another howl ripped through the air, this time more commanding. His ears flattened against his skull at the weight of authority, but he finally complied and began running.

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DottyVintage