Title: Animal Planet
Rating: FRT
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Just the idea.
Spoilers: Uh, all 4 books, I guess.
Summary: Our story began in Sixteenth Century England, on a dark and cold night, from which he rose. Mostly Canon, smattering of Fanon, and possibly crackish. Unsure.
Super huge thanks for Colm Feore, who narrates for Canadian Geographic :P I love that man, and he does such a fabulous job at narration.
Read as Third-person subjective…I believe….
Mysterious, elusive, and even the people who have lived around these parts for years would swear they had never seen one, let alone believe that such a creature could exist.
It doesn't seem possible that something breathtakingly beautiful, deadly, and virtually unstoppable could live right under their very noses, and they not be aware of it.
But yes, it's true, according to the Quileute people.
Residing on the American Pacific Coast in western Washington, the natives of the Quileute Reserve know almost everything about what there is, or isn't, to know about the Olympic Peninsula.
Just off the Pacific Ocean lay a waterfront beach community called La Push. Home to roughly 750 people, in and surrounding areas, it is the hot spot for surfing, swimming, whale watching…and folklore.
For centuries, Tribal leaders, and community Elders have been passing down stories and tales of past happenings, traditional know-how, medicinal ingenuity, and the fortitude to live off the land. And what would the land be without its sacred species to guide our way?
In the land of the Quileutes, all animals hold a spiritual place on this earth. From the wily old Raven, to the blue jay and Canis lupus; the wolf, but none hold more importance, and bring the most disdain, then that of what have been called the Pale Ones.
The Pale Ones, the Bloodsuckers, the Cold Ones, may not be your average creature, and may not be easily found in a lifetime's search, but the Quileute believe it is best to know thy enemy.
Years ago patrolling the land, the Quileute wolves (from which the nations say came forth the first Quileute man), came across the Pale Ones feeding on reserve game. A treaty was formed where the Bloodsuckers would no longer hunt on Quileute grounds or hunt the customary prey, in exchange for confidentiality, and tranquility.
And so has been the legend since.
But who are these Pale Ones, and how will we know if we bump into one of them?
That's the catch.
We won't.
Our story began in Sixteenth Century England, on a dark and cold night, from which rose the first of his kind, but not the first with his genetics.
Stregoni Benefici he was called; Stregoni to mean one of the supernatural; Benefici, the Latin of good, kind or charitable.
But Stregoni Benefici was not always as such, wherein the mystery lies.
He was born a couple decades prior, birthed from a mortal female and to a mortal male. He was raised as his father and took hesitant steps to one day fill the void that the dominant male of society would one day leave.
That was until one fateful night when our 23 year old male was attacked, bitten, by what he would soon become, and left to suffer.
What had attacked him?
Something strong, something quick, something powerful.
A Pale One, a Bloodsucker.
For days, our male withered silently and alone in excruciating pain, finally emerging three nights later, horrified at what he had become.
Appearance wise, he was pretty much the same; tall, lean, a fine dusting of lightened mane, but that was where the similarities would end. He now was pale, too pale.
Like the rest of his species, the pigment that was once in the skin, disappears, somehow, once bitten, and what is left is a pale, white complexion. We know not how or why its hide turns white upon bitten, but it is an affect that has been evident on all Bloodsuckers for centuries. It is one of those things we, as mortals, will never know.
Along with the whitened skin came other features his before had never experienced. He was fast, he was strong, he was invulnerable (to any form of self-hurt; he had tried it), and he was starving.
One night, when he could endure the hunger no longer, he went in search for anything other than what he was craving, the taste of mortal blood, and fed upon a herd of passing deer. It was then that he was named Stregoni Benefici.
Years went by and with his unorthodox diet, he became immune to the prey his kind would usually accept over for dinner. Instead, he used this advantage to aid others, and heal the fallen. Eventually, our male wound up in new territory, cohabitating with those of mortal blood in and around Central America.
And this is where his tale takes place.
A cold wind flitters through giant maples in the American Midwest as light snow falls from the heavens, coating everything in a fine layer of crystallize moisture. A herd of deer graze freely on the fine shoots of snow covered grass carpeting the forest floor, safe and secure in the knowledge that they are alone.
All is calm, and except for the barely audible pitter patter of steady flakes landing on wide open leaves, all is quiet.
And then, like a sudden shot from a rifle, the herd scatters in a flurry of panic and disarray. Chunks of fur and dirt encrusted snow fly through the air as one-by-one, they are caught mid-leap, ravaged, then tossed aside as another is plucked, like little bread pieces thrown to geese bobbing on a lake.
Within minutes, the silence has returned to the maple's land and a sporadic trail of deceased bloodlet deer cover a mile wide. At the end of this mile, still feeding on the warm blood running through the lifeless corpse, is what we've come to find.
It is Stregoni Benefici.
And with him, a newborn male, with a copper coat and an equally pale hide. It's unsure where this young male came from, but it would appear as if our male has adopted. As Stregoni Benefici cannot produce offspring, nor has he mated wherein reproducing would usually occur, the most logical reasons would be that this young male was most likely orphaned, then taken under the older male's wing.
Although still young in his years, our male has taken on the role as father to this yearling, teaching him tricks of the trade, and what game should or should not be consumed.
It would be a difficult task for anyone to handle, but with years of experience and patience, this male is perfect for the job. Even though the hunt is more instinctive to these pale creatures then any other animal, it always helps to have an example, enhancing ones education.
Over years, our male has perfected his skills and has become a force not to be toyed with. He has mastered the art of the stalk, and honed the timing of his ambush until he can easily pounce and strangle the last breathe from his prey. He is a hunter built to kill, and until full, he will stop at nothing in the pursuit of mammalian prey.
While Stregoni Benefici and his son prefer that of quadruped meals, there are others of his kind who don't; choosing to feast upon that of mortal blood. It is a lifestyle our male has fought against, and with centuries to prefect his resistance, it is one he has succeeded in.
Like all predators, their keen eyes look for the weak, and the old. Though they can easily take on healthy prey in a single blow, Stregoni Benefici has taught the younger to sacrifice those incapable of survival, in lieu of those with a better chance at repopulating. It is a compassionate nature our dominant male has, and one that holds our pair to their way of life.
It's a unique form of hunting, which experts think has been taught from generation to generation, and except for the strong desire to learn, and a support group, one that can quickly fail.
But it would appear our male has done well by this youngster, both content and full with their menu choice.
Once satiated, they head on their way. As they only feed on the blood, wolves, scavengers and the other carnivores that harbor these woods will take what's left and dine on the tissue and muscle.
Death always nurtures life; it is nature's greatest mystery.
Onetime stately and magnificent, the American Elm once covered the vast lands of the Ohio state in armies of hundreds of thousands. Now, having succumbed to Dutch Elm disease, they only populate sporadic areas, but wherever they have managed to survive, their dwellers are thankful for it.
Here at the base, a mother fox leans against the trunk nursing her brood of 4, while a few unreachable branches up, an opossum hangs vertical from a branch, her children skittishly trying to do the same, and even higher still, the persistent chatter of quarrelling squirrels seems to go unnoticed by the forest inhabitants.
Spring has arrived, and with it, new sights and smells.
Our male and his adoptive offspring have meandered their way through hundreds of valleys and kilometers of forest, rarely residing in once place for long. It is their kind's way of life, and except for distant relatives in Alaska and Italy, has been for centuries.
For the better part of the year, the males have made these forests home, acquainting themselves with foreign land, and abundant prey.
And the prey is particularly generous this time of year, as down by the waters edge, one of nature's most marvelous spectacles is taking place.
What was once a quiet, shallow brook has been transformed into a feast for hundreds, as pink hues emerge from connecting waterways.
It is spawning season.
From kilometers away, the red-bellied salmon has made a perilous trip to this destination, all for the sole purpose of reproduction and cessation. They will lay their eggs here, then die; bringing them back full-circle from where their own lives had begun.
The spawn is gorging season for any animal, where the buffet is bountiful, and the quantity is endless. Yet the Stregoni Benefici refuses to feed upon the salmon for only one reason. It does not whet his appetite.
But the appetite, however, has been whet for others, and with bear, cougar and even the occasional wolf sitting down for the buffet, it provides a perfect opportunity for our male and his companion to snag an easy meal, as well.
By twilight, salmon aren't the only thing that will never see the next morning rise.
The spawn continues for weeks, as more and more salmon return to their birthing grounds, and more and more foes return for the meal.
It is a well stocked pantry for anyone, and one that will be so rich in feast that no one will go hungry.
A young bear cub takes advantage of the buffet, and he better; winter is only a few more months away. But for the Stregoni Benefici, winter is no hindrance. They can travel miles, kilometers, in a single evening and feed upon any prey they cross. Their diet is never ending.
Rarely do they forage in the light of the day, preferring twilight, or the nocturnal hours to prey. Their coats don't absorb the rays from the sun, instead they reflect off the skin, and cause a mild inconvenience for camouflage. It is another mystery that science has yet to solve. Heat, also, isn't an issue, nor the cold in winter, so year round activities aren't disturbed by the turning of the seasons.
It is this lifestyle that allows them to continue to live in harmony with nature, as they have for a millennia.
It is during a mid-summer shower when we meet the males next.
Normally, they do not hunt during the day, but our elder male has chosen to educate his adoptive offspring in a daytime hunt, if one of those rare occasions is to happen that an evening meal cannot wait.
The youngster has been an excellent pupil in his brief existence as one of the Pale Ones. He has honed his ability to hunt and remain inconspicuous, while every day attempts aid him in the refusal of mortal banquets.
He has made a fine companion for Stregoni Benefici, who himself, has lived alone since his attack.
With an age reaching the mid 200's, he's seen a lot of summers come and go, and should live to see many more. Without any predators, except for their own kind and the Quileute wolves, they will live for centuries, some even documented at being over 1000 years old. The longevity puzzles scientists, but it's believed that their enhanced abilities prevent any ware and tear on the body.
Meandering through treetops, the light coloured Pale One teaches his own tricks of the trade to the copper youngling.
And then he stops.
He smells something.
A delicious something.
A something he has never smelt before, causing a varying degree of lust, instead of the usual lust for blood.
Following the mouthwatering scent our male tracks down it's origin to ground level.
At the base of a giant Maple is the whimpering body of a young female mortal. Jumping from the top branches, he advances slowly on her, his keen eyes zero in on an abrasion on her lower leg. She must have misplaced her footing and fallen while she herself was frolicking in the foliage.
While the younger male leaps from the tree as well, keeping his distance, Stregoni Benefici inspects the wound, while observing the young female with interest. She too seems to be quite taken with him for she smiles shyly at him, and blushes as mortals do, when he returns the gesture.
Our male's young companion seems to have made himself scarce for the time being, leaving our male and the mortal in a harmonious state.
But the harmony does not last long.
From beyond the trees, in a flurry of strewn brush and weeds, a mortal male makes his presence know, quickly coming upon the female with fury.
Our male Pale One backs off.
Apparently, he has unknowingly come between a mated pair.
The mortal male snarls and grunts at the Pale male as he, much to Stregoni Benefici's chagrin, roughly shoves the young, now overtly submissive, female further from the third party.
The mortal seems to want a challenge with our male, but he knows not what he asks.
Our light coloured male, remarkably agile and surefooted, is tall and lean, with hindquarters built for speed, strength and endurance. It is likely that if he were to accept the challenge by the weaker, though visibly more aggressive male for mating rights, he would be sure to overthrow the mate.
Though it appears that he is quite interested in the young female, he does not advance on her or her mate, choosing to stay back and watch her with a sense of longing.
Perhaps he is less sure of his appeal then his body language dictates? Perhaps he is just curious and watching for sport? Both seem possible, but we will never know, for he watches her being dragged away until she vanishes from view.
The autumn rains have arrived and will last until they solidify into flakes of snow, with rarely seeing sight of the sun.
For Stregoni Benefici and his young companion, this is fine by them. Sunbeams are just a nuisance.
It has been quite some time since our male last had his encounter with the mortal female, yet he can't help remembering her. She was too young, too vulnerable, yet she had an air about her that had drawn him in.
As memory would last forever, he would no doubt recall her charm, beauty, and the undeniable affection he held for her for eternity.
It would be his cross to bear.
In nature, size and power is everything.
As the dominant male of his territory and Alpha male, if you will, in his pack of two, Stregoni Benefici and his companion have hold of an unlimited amount of land to hunt and meander through.
As a skunk would rub scent glands against brush, or as canines would urinate, marking ones' territory lets others now that the land has already been claimed.
Stregoni Benefici need not go to such measures, as his scent can cover for miles, but he does occasionally brush up against a tree, or run his hand through ground foliage in a preemptive strike to prevent confrontations before they occur.
Their scent is unique, and except for Quileute wolves, and other Pale Ones, undetectable.
Perhaps this undetectability is both an asset and a hindrance, when two mortals accidentally find themselves on our male's land.
As happenstance would have it, even washed away with the rain, the scents are familiar, and one, just like it was in the past, is cripplingly delectable.
It is the mortal female and her aggressive mate.
But something is off.
With his acute ears, Stregoni Benefici can hear for miles. A distant rumble of thunder, a call of a loon, the pattering of footsteps; they all will seem just as attune as if they were mere feet away.
And harsh shouts and faint whimpering is no different.
Blood is also in the air and from the smell of it, in abundance as well.
Instructing his youngling to keep a safe distance from the tempting aroma, our male investigates.
Coming into the clearing, Stregoni Benefici finds his perceptions to be accurate.
Lying prone on the ground below her mate is the mortal female from before. She isn't moving, and blood weeps from cuts and broken skin adorning her body. Above her is her mate, snarling and taking his aggression out on her.
For years, Stregoni Benefici has prided himself on his compassion. He has never harmed fellow man, and has long adopted the philosophy to treat others how you would want to be treated.
Until now.
Docility, only matters if there is nothing to be instigated.
Moving quicker than the mortal male could seem to fathom, our male pushes the other away from the unconscious female and crouches in a predatory stance, sizing up the clearly shocked mortal.
With a height, speed and endurance advantage, the lone male is built for battle and could easily kill the weaker.
But does he want to?
He's never done it before, and the thought alone is enough to churn his stomach.
But he's not the only one at stake any more. The female whom he stands in front of, blocking her from her mate, is unable to defend herself, and with his educated eyes, she is unmistakably injured; perhaps enough that there is no saving her.
But Stregoni Benefici cannot take that risk.
It's not in his nature to allow such brutality to go unheeded. Nor is it in his heart to deny that he, indeed, felt something for her at their first meeting.
Standing tall, he lets his aura seep around him towards the mortal male in what he hopes will be enough of a presence to deter the other. Gold eyes glare sharply at the enemy, as soft wind blows through the Oregon Maple leaves surrounding them.
All is silent.
The mortal male seems to consider the challenge Stregoni Benefici has given, but quickly rethinks his position upon seeing the unyielding, furious gaze directed at him.
Remembering the forceful shove from earlier, one that sent him feet in the air, and earned him what felt like a broken rib or two, he succumbs to the obvious.
Though he is no pushover, he stands little chance.
Admitting defeat, he makes his exit; his ego not allowing him to think that at least he escaped alive.
Her screams, cries, and whimpers fill the air, and for Stregoni Benefici, it's all he can do sit by her side during the painful ordeal, without wanting to end her misery.
She's so vulnerable, and for the second time in his extremely long life, he feels more guilt than he could ever have dreamed.
It wasn't a choice he had liked to make, but his own desire that she live, gave him little say in the matter.
The guilt he had felt when he sunk his teeth into the barely thrumming vein in the side of her throat was insurmountable. But it was nothing to the traitorous knot in his stomach that said just how much he unacceptably enjoyed the taste of something so savoury it made his first newborn meal seem meager and distasteful.
Not for the first time, a thought entrenched his mind.
What a monster I am.
One the third day, she awoke.
Everything was different.
The sky was greyer, the mist was dryer, and the air was filled with particles of pollen, dust and water vapour.
Everything felt different.
Though she found herself lying on the forest floor, she wasn't cold, damp or uncomfortable. She was just there; hovering between a state of consciousness and…something else completely unimaginable.
Everything sounded different.
A groundhog burrowed underground 15 feet to her left, a storm brewed somewhere to the North, and a herd of deer kicked and balked in the Rut further West. For some reason unknown to her, her mouth watered.
And she wasn't alone.
Positioning themselves a six foot distance from her, two males sat anxiously observing her. One had a copper coat and was a shade of white, frighteningly familiar considering she had never met him before.
The other was blond.
Her eyes went wide, her stomach clenched, and her heart sped up…or at least it would have. Failing to feel her body's customary thumping heart, throbbing forehead vein, and clammy hands that his presence, even the mere thought of him brought her to, she froze.
What was going on?
In her disembodiment, the world has gone on without her. Sparrows still sing, chipmunks still forage through dampened soil, and the skies still rain as if it were the last rain for a millennia.
Everything was as it once was.
But as it is explained to her, she is the one that is different.
It's not a good kind of different, our male divulges, nor is it a better form of existence, just…different.
As expected, predicted, she takes little time to acclimatize herself to this new way of life. There is no time to adjust when ones' biology dictates what it has never known before.
She is starving.
Cautiously, all too familiar with the drive of his kind, Stregoni Benefici, his youngster hunting on his own, takes the newborn female for her first meal.
The herd of deer from before make an excellent beginners snack.
Stalking the landscape with Stregoni Benefici by her side, and instincts she didn't know she had, the female expertly lands her first kill. Lapping the spilt blood, she watches in horrendous awe as Stregoni Benefici does the same with his own kill. He is swifter, quicker, cleaner, but she will learn, and together, they will make a superb team.
Once done, they sit side by side and marvel at their own existence. What they are, what they've become, what it all means.
There are no answers. Even Stregoni Benefici who has been as thus for nearly three centuries cannot give a reason, but they have both mutually decided they will do it together; not what they are now, but who they will become.
In the still of the night, under an alabaster moon, as equally pale as they are, they take the first steps. Surrounded by lush mosses, decomposing plant growth and the canopy of foliage shading the under story, the pair consummate their mating in what can only be called an awakening. It's tentative, slow, and all encompassing.
Although his kind have been said to have a ruthless reputation, he, like so few with similar makeup, is oddly gentle with her, allowing her to dictate the set pace, and the frequency of her needs.
This love, this passion, this need, is something she's never felt before, and for Stregoni Benefici it is something he, himself, has never even dreamed.
Yes, he has been alone too long, but that was by choice. The right mate just hadn't come along, until now.
Once complete, the pair nuzzle and nip at each other in an endearing manner. Their species mates for life where only death brings separation.
He will not have impregnated her, now, or ever, for they are, from the initial bite on, lacking the genetics to reproduce, but she will not be deterred from doing what he has done and allowing youngsters into the pack.
And that is precisely what she does.
Years go by, and the pair, plus one, have adopted four others into their family; two males, and two females.
The males, though both brawny and fierce during the hunt like their adoptive father and brother, couldn't be more opposite. One is broad shouldered and bigger then that of its siblings and parents, with a playful side and a pension for high jinks. The other, sinewy, and powerful, is more violent and cagey, choosing to surround himself with those strictly of his family.
The two latest females are equally as opposite as their respective adoptive siblings. One is petit with a whimsical disposition, while the other seems to be more concerned with the hardships their kind must endure, and spends most of her time scowling about her predicament.
While observing the little band of obscurity, it would appear that our patriarch is as much a father and mate, as he is a matchmaker. The small, animated female arrived with the unstable male and can often be found nuzzling among the shrubs. Moreover, the light coloured female too has taken a surprising interest in something other than herself, and is more than not, seen spurning the mischievous male's advances, only to reel him back in with an affectionate nibble.
A unique coven indeed.
Autumn continues to add new colours to the spectrum of the forests adoring Western America, yet Stregoni Benefici and his family are not around to enjoy it.
Having expanded from his lone companion to a unit of seven, including himself and mate, he makes his way over North America, across the Pacific Ocean, to the mist-covered vineyards of Italy where acquaintances await his arrival.
The pack, we as researchers refer to as the Volturi, are the same species as Stregoni Benefici and his family, but have very different makeup and lifestyles.
Lead by three males, the Volturi are the most formidable unit of Pale Ones the Earth has ever seen, followed by Stregoni Benefici and their Alaskan cousins. With 10 Pale Ones acting as guards, and all the influence their powers can muster, the Volturi are not to be questioned, nor denied.
Yet, such instances are bound to happen when you are unfamiliar with the pecking order.
It is our male's mate that the Volturi desire to meet first. She is new, she is beautiful, and she is very dear to Stregoni Benefici; three points in her favour, the last being an Achilles heel to any male.
But Stregoni Benefici will not risk it.
He refuses the three males any form of physical contact with her, and stands on edge, inappropriately close by her, both to alleviate her discomfort, and to intimidate rivals.
Of course, the Volturi will not be intimidated when they could so easily overpower any in their path, but they get the picture, and knowing that such an encounter would be deadly, would rather not harm such a dear friend.
This is a statement, a clear signal to any onlookers to stay away, and get their own mate.
It works.
The two other mated males in the family follow the same suite as Stregoni Benefici, and even if the Volturi find fascination with the pixie-like female, her mate, the unstable male will not hear of it.
The introductions end and since Stregoni Benefici and his family do not share in the same buffet as their Italian cousins, the stay is cut short, choosing to exit while everyone is in an appeased state of mind.
A Sparrow sings melodiously from his white-plumed throat, as below him our matriarch and patriarch, mom and dad as researches call them, stroll around the Olympic Peninsula in peaceful oblivious –or maybe not, we think- to our cameras following their every move.
The first snowfall came yesterday. It didn't last long, but it was enough of a reminder that winter is not far behind.
It's a very tranquil time for our mates, a feeling that often encompasses their days with a home full of children, and each other by their side.
It's a wonder they have managed to be still fully bound to the other after such adversity their kind must suffer, and the long years after where they weather the storm.
But that's nature's own curiosity to figure out.
Perhaps we are just too uneducated in their kind to see what could really be lying behind the depths of their golden eyes.
Perhaps they are closer to us then we would like to think.
The Quileutes think so.
There's an old tale about a woman who bore a Cold One. The story goes that while she slept in the valleys of Mapuche, South America, she would be visited by a male angel. She was seduced by his beauty, falling prey to a lure she couldn't herself, describe, and conceived his child, only to be abandoned with the fetus. The child, unlike anything mere mortals could ever have dreamed, grew within her womb at a startling rate, while her own health deteriorated because of it. In too short of time, the child appeared, ripping his way free of his mother's womb. The mother died quickly, but not before entrusting her sister with the life that brought her much happiness through the pain.
The child was named Nahuel, and grew to forgive himself of his mother's death. He is still alive today, and works along side his aunt in South America, free from the demons of his kind, and is living proof that though most Pale Ones are born from bloodlust, he is not an evil creation.
Searching for the key that unlocks the mystery hidden within Stregoni Benefici and his kind is like searching an enormous stack of hay for needles. It's there; just hard to find.
These master predators are completely cut off from the norms our outside world seems to hold so dear, yet somehow they exist in it, managing themselves, their families, and their own anonymity under the same sky we mortals stare at blindly in our ignorance.
Do they do the same? Do they stare at a blue sky and see simply that, a blue sky, or do they see something else? Something you'd never see until your eyes open golden rimmed and your mind opens up to the impossible?
We don't know.
Much about them remains virtually unknown.
We don't know how they came to be, or where they first came from.
We don't know how long they live, or why they even exist in the first place.
We don't even know how many exist.
All we do know is what the Quileutes have known from the beginning of time. That Stregoni Benefici haunts these forests, reminding us of how nature once was, and at least here, still is.
Author's Note: I had way too much fun writing this, and obviously way too much time on my hands to watch a slew of nature shows to get the idea from :P First, I tried to make it as canon as possible, but parts are way Fanon. Give me a break! You try turning a human storyline into that of animals. Second, it's mentioned that Carlisle is mid 200s at a certain point. Since Carlisle is 349 as of 2008 (I think), and since that moment in the fic is just as he meets Esme the first time in 1911, he would be roughly 252 years old…if my facts are correct, that is. Third, I did a lot of animal, and location research. I hope it's at least fairly accurate.