Disclaimer: These characters and their universe belong to Stephenie Meyer alone.
AN: Written for http://community. Today is my first day writing Twilight fic.

La Mia Cantante

Blood no longer travels through her veins and she will never blush again. The smell that drove me to distraction in a way that I once feared is gone; her blood's scent cannot tempt me any longer. Her eyes are black and scared and I know the responsibility I have taken on. She is... well, she is very like a newborn just now. I had nothing different to expect, and tomorrow we'll go out hunting. I'm coming to realize she prefers foxes. They are so small that I wonder how they can satisfy her. But they are fast and wiley and she enjoys the challenge, I... think. I can only guess. I can see she is in pain, and I believe it is the pain of barely-constrained self-control. I stay near her at all times. We're easily two hundred miles from the nearest human, but two hundred miles is not far enough if she loses her grip.

I run my hand through her hair, an uncombed mess. I would have to try and help her. "Bella," I whispered into the knotted tresses.

La mia cantante. Bloodless and mad, scent changed and heart silenced, I was surprised to understand that she still sung for me. Yes, her blood had called to my thirst, but more than that, her... essence, her being, called to my own. I still thirsted for her in a way I could not define.

"Edward," she half-growled.

I looked out the window at the piling snow, the winds raging in the darkening twilight. It would be dangerously cold out there for a human, but there were no humans here. Habits die slowly. There was no need to wait until tomorrow. Besides, we stood better chance of finding game at night.

I smiled down at her. "You hungry? Time for dinner?"

She smiled and I saw in there Bella, my Bella. "Do you want to eat in or go out?"

I chuckled. "Most definitely out." It was a good sign that she was joking with me, since her sense of humor was often missing these difficult days of her first year. The idea of the hunt was cheering her.

"Italian? Chinese?" Her dark eyes gleamed up at mine. I leaned over and kissed her forehead.

"To the southwest." I answered a different question entirely, the one she should have asked, normally would have asked. "About ten miles."

She knew what I meant, and turned to that corner of our one-bedroom ranch house nestled in the backcountry as if she could see through the wall. I could smell already a mountain lion and her half-eaten-- and very bloody-- prey in that direction. Bella, more sensitive to the smell of blood than I was, even of animal's blood, doubtless picked up the scent through the drafty cabin as well.

I stood and peeled out of my nice collared shirt. We walked into the blinding blizzard together, barely noticing the gale-force winds. "I may just go for birds," she said at normal voice level. The wind threatened to swallow the sound, but couldn't conceal her voice from my perceptive ears. I worried about letting her hunt alone, not for her safety, but for the small town of Atlas two hundred and nine miles to the south.

"I'll be fine," she answered. "I won't be long." She'd clearly seen whatever emotion my expression had betrayed.

"Come find me as soon as you're through."

She nodded, and I squeezed her hand, but I wasn't truly placated. It was immensely frustrating not knowing her thoughts at a time like this. I leaned close and delivered what I considered a threat-- for her own good-- directly into her ear.

"Don't go elsewhere, Bella. I can still follow you. I can still find you. And I'm still faster than you are. And I would know. I'd know your scent from two thousand miles away," I exaggerated, "mia cantante."

"But I don't--" She pulled back, and from the wild light in her eyes, I wondered if I'd been right to suspect her, or if she was angry that I had. "My blood doesn't-- Why would you--"

"Not your blood, Bella," I whispered. "You still sing to me, still call me to you. It's your... soul."

I regretted the word as soon as it was out, noting the flash of triumph across her face. We stood there, snow drifting around us now from our long hesitation here outside the door, our door.

She smiled and kissed me slowly. I was drawn down and in and utterly beguiled by her. When she pulled back, she smiled. "I haven't even got the time to get to Atlas. Something far more tempting is waiting for me here."

I could hardly speak, stumbling over some response, the intent of which, at any rate, was that we'd better get moving rather quickly because that same temptation was now beckoning to me as well.

"La mia cantante," she whispered into the wind, and kissed me one last time before she left for the woods to the east.

I did not worry over her. I knew she would return as quickly as she could, hunt as close as she may find a worthy quarry for her restless thirst. She and I were bound by a silent song, but it vibrated through my body regardless, and I could hear that it was as real as her heartbeat ever had been. Bella was coming back to me. So soon! Not even a year. But I could tell it wouldn't be long now.

I'd never before the problem of spilling blood because I was smiling too widely. It would have been downright embarrassing if, well, if I wasn't too busy being happy to feel much of anything else.