I am not the best at keeping stories updated regularly (or finishing them). I have only ever finished one fanfiction in my life, and it had a sequel, which sort of defeats the purpose. Anyway, I want to have high hopes for this story, but my muse is weighing down on me and my inspiration is at a smashing zero. Song: About Sophie by Keaton Henson.

Tripping Over Wolves

Chapter 1:

'cause I'm a touch shit friend
and I reckon I'll love her until the end
and it means more than I can pretend

It was quiet, so much so it made me nervous. My hands trembled as I held them tightly in my lap, my knees under me as I leaned back against the large piece of driftwood. I had gotten so used to their noise over the past months; the obnoxious laughter and bickering and odd grunts and growls that came from being around a pack of teenage werewolves. But it had made them seem human, unlike the Cullens who were always so silent, unemotional, more of a pretty object on a mantel, situated there only for the purpose of being admired, envied. Perhaps that's what had made me feel so unaccepted when around them, feeling too loud, with my clumsiness and words that came out unrehearsed and without that musical trill they all seemed to possess; always aware of the heart beating in my chest and the blood they could hear flowing, sloshing, gurgling in my veins.

The food was long gone. I watched as Paul threw more sticks into the fire, staring as the flames crackled and gave soft, sensual breaths of smoke. I knew, a year ago I would have been contemplating all the different ways I could throw myself into that fire, until my bones were as black as my heart had been; burnt and crushed, tripped over and abused to the point I couldn't figure out how it still beat. Now, feeling less suicidal and masochistic, a small part of me wanted to touch those red flickers of color that moved with the wind, wondering if they would tickle against my skin like the breath of the wolf sitting beside me. His very presence soothing any demons I had left inside of me. I gazed at his face, watching chest move up and down, slowly, unconsciously, unlike the vampires who had no need for air and only acquired the habit out of the need to 'fit in.' His eyes were closed, but I knew he was not asleep; exhaustion seemed to seep out of him against his will. It was all those nights of sleep he forfeited for the safety of his people…and me.

There was nothing I could do to repay him – all of them – for what they do, have done.

My eyes flickered across their forms; Paul, watching the fire with unseeing eyes; Quil, twisting his fingers around a lose rock in the sand; Sam, tucked in beside his imprint, nose in her hair as if trying to forget everything but her; Jared, arms curled around Kim who looked so peacefully asleep it made my heart ache. How many hours did she spend away waiting for him to return home so she could breathe without her throat aching? Jacob caught my eye as I watched him, giving me a soft smile, doubted with the lines between his eyes that signified the worry no one had dared voice tonight.

I knew, at that moment, I would never forgive the Cullens, him – not just for seeking me out, making themselves seem so desirable only to tell me to stay far away, dragging me in and convincing me of truths I only later found to be lies, but for what they had done to the boys, men, brothers around me. Not, I supposed, that they would be interested in or even care if I, a human girl of no meaning to them, forgave them for their actions or not.

But I, and the form next to me, knew of my unforgiving attitude where they were concerned, and that was enough.


It must be late by the color of the sky. Long since had the sun set and the moon had achieved its expected height, only to start fading into the rough rain clouds still cluttering the stars. I wasn't worried about the time though; Charlie didn't expect me back tonight. I stood, my movements rustling Embry out of his sleep like trance. He reached out to me, hand finding me as he stood, yawning into his left. I hadn't realized I was cold until his warm fingers threaded themselves through mine. We gave no goodbyes as we started to walk away, but that was expected. No one ever did. Not on nights like these.

This hadn't just been any bonfire; any party where the pack could let loose and pretend they weren't hunting a vampire whose bones seemed to be able to turn invisible just when they were close to snapping their teeth around her neck. No, this had been an 'if' party. A farewell if any of the 'what ifs?' we were all imagining came true. Any goodbyes would have been too sour too bare, destroying any illusions of hope for the events taking place at dawn.

Embry and I walked silently, gravel crunching under our shoes and mud soaking our ankles. I curled closer to his side until we released hands and his arm came over my shoulder, protective and comforting, silent and daunting. I dare not ask him his thoughts and I knew he would not ask mine. I stopped, not uncomfortable or comfortable in the darkness around us, to stare up at him. Green clashed with browns as we met, an unseen cord attaching us together. I brought my hand, slowly and trembling, to brush against the shadows under his eyes, caress the curve of his bottom lip, the smooth skin of his neck. Suddenly I was pressed against his chest and his lips were against my, pressing, biting, sucking, anything to get the point across. The words we couldn't even think of saying.

I love you.

I locked my arms around his neck, pulling his hair, lips dragging from his to travel against his cheek and eyes and forehead, desperate to love him.

"Bella." His voice was thick, forehead gentle against mine, breath whooshing over my face softly, like the most teasing breeze. It did not make me dizzy or weak at the knees, make me unable to hold myself up. That was the difference. I was in love, so in love, bursting at the seams. But I was me too, I hadn't been replaced by a blushing, laminated version of myself that should have never existed.

So much had changed. The feeling rose in my chest, hauntingly disturbing, an aching not for the fragments of a life I had once owned, but for the very idea that things moved. That I had a freckle behind my ear now and wore a different pants size. Change was not known in the life I had once lived. Now, change was all that kept me from breaking apart; the very knowledge that I was the very symbol of humanity.

Blood welled against my skinned knees as I tripped on the muck beneath our feet, small needle like branches clinging to the red that I could not see, but feel. Embry lifted me, a noise sounding in the back of his throat, but he continued walking, my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist. I did not cry, but buried myself in him, burrowing until I didn't know who I was or who he was. He stopped moving and I heard a creak of a door and a new scent filled my nostrils. No lights were turned on as he's feet, almost the very definition of silence, made their way to his room. He sat me on his bed, bending down so he could properly look at my knees, his sight just as strong in darkness as in light. I, for once, was not afraid of any monsters that could creep out from the bed.

Monsters weren't only in the dark.

I didn't wince as his fingers pulled the scattered pieces of nature from my scrapes. Instead, I closed my eyes to savor the pain.

I might die tomorrow.

Which meant everything I clung onto, everything that made me, me, would disappear. I would no longer exist. I had never been a big believer or brooder on the afterlife, because all that had matter was I would no longer be here, on this planet, in this reality. Wherever I went, the things and the faces that were here would not go with me. I would never live this moment again, Embry, bending over me to take care of me, despite the need to cause me pain. He would have never done that; insisted that I take pain medication to stop the slightest twinge. But now was not the moment to think about him. My life had nothing to do with him now.

My fingers dug themselves in Embry's hair, scrapping against his scalp until he growled, giving up on his doctoring to lay his body over mine. The bed was pressed against my back, but its comfort did nothing – meant nothing. I could feel every part of him against me, hear the soft sounds as our clothes rubbed against each other as we devoured each other's mouths, rocking back and forth against the bed. I had never been so grateful his mattress didn't squeak. I didn't want anything to rupture this moment.

I moaned lowly into his mouth, pressing my hands against his back, my body betraying my mind as I arched into him. I wanted this to be slow, not to torture him or to pass time or to play a game, but because I wanted it to be it. I wanted this to be our forever, our life, who we were. I wanted this to be all the things I couldn't speak right now; all the syllables I was aching to scream, but my vocal cords would not spit out. Everything I wanted our future to be like; all we had left to feel and experience and learn. I wanted this to sum up the rest of our lives – the 'could-have-beens' and all the 'I love yous' I would have said if we had the time.

We did not sleep that night.