Disclaimer: Um, in case you haven't noticed, I don't own Twilight. I know, I'm disappointed too.

Hello all! I wasn't too excited about writing more fanfiction, being just after exams and all, but suddenly I just wanted to start writing again. I had this idea in my head for a while, so I decided to just put it on paper...well, screen. I hope it turned out okay! I've read some stories with this idea before, but I tried to make sure this wasn't too like any one of them. Let the reading begin:

I always liked to hunt alone. It couldn't have been more than a few years since I became this monster…could it? I didn't know; I lost track of time easily. Living forever, I found no need to count the passing days, months, years. I felt no purpose, no reason for being, without anyone to truly care for me. My coven - family, as they called us - said they cared for me. Well, Carlisle and Esme did. I could tell Edward still didn't like me. And even now he seemed to have a problem with Carlisle, and he seemed uncomfortable around Esme as well. It was strange to me, even in his post-mortal state; he still kept up his gentlemanlike demeanor. Perhaps it was just embedded in him, like all men should have. I had little experience with true gentlemen in my days, and after Royce I had still yet to accept any man as kind or gentle - but that is another matter. And yet, even with Edward's perpetual loneliness that seemed to match mine, he would not open up to me. Behind closed doors, I could sometimes hear Carlisle and Esme whispering – so as to not alert us to the focus of their discussions – about how they wanted us to open up, and had hoped that having me around would help Edward. Ha. I refused to be a part of their scheme to help the man who never wanted anything to do with me. I still had my pride to keep up.

Hunting in the deep northern woods, I pondered this subject, as it seemed it was the only thing in my life worth taking a deep look at. Coming to a close on the topic I had thought about all too often, I remembered the one time I heard Carlisle and Esme speaking of a new home somewhere else. Carlisle spoke of a home in Alaska; he said he had some 'old friends' there that he would like to visit. I did not want to leave. I did not want to have to pack up all of my pretentious belongings and travel cross-country to meet others that I already knew I wouldn't like - I was liking fewer and fewer people every day. Going to meet new people was always uncomfortable for me, making me worry about what they would think, if I was wearing the right dress for the occasion, if my hair looked decent, and then hoping that they wouldn't see that I was worrying over these things. Knowing Carlisle though, I could only imagine his intentions during this visit. While he was always a well-meaning person, he would likely try to find something for Edward and I to keep us occupied, perhaps another try at finding us our 'mates.'

Suddenly, my thoughts came to a standstill. I took another breath, careful to keep it shallow so as to not alert whatever it was I was smelling. Upon this second whiff, I immediately recognized the scent, and my instincts threatened to take over. Human. I refused to allow my muscles to move, knowing that if I did I would likely become the savage I truly was and take this innocent life. Edward had recently returned to us after he went off on his own, and although he would never truly admit it, I knew he was disappointed in himself, knowing that he let Carlisle down, even being able to read Carlisle's true understanding and acceptance. I would not let that happen to me: I refused to become the monster that so heavily threatened me from inside.

I turned my head ever so slowly to take a deep breath of fresh air, clearing my head to assess the situation. I remembered my strength during Royce's 'unfortunate' ending, and drew upon that to keep myself strong. My mind taking over my body again, I pondered why a human would be here now anyway. It was well past dark, and it was still quite warm, not likely timing for a hunter. The scent was so strong, this person had to be actually bleeding, not just standing there, and he or she had to be very close. Holding my breath to ease the burn, I slowly took a few steps forward and took in the tiniest of breaths, and knew I was getting closer, I continued to walk in that direction when I heard the smallest of whimpers. Pushing through the brush, I cam across this young man, surely no more than 20 years of age. He was bleeding all over the grass on which he lay, and he looked on the edge of consciousness. Quickly assessing again, I saw that he had no head wound, but yet several major gashes in his stomach. I felt – for the first time since my change – compassion. I felt sorry for this poor man. I would not hurt him: I had to help him. Looking into his face, even in his extreme pain, I could see the hint of a dimple in his cheeks, like those of a young boy. Like those on Vera's little boy, Henry. The boy that I wanted to badly to have my own little copy of, to love and to nurture to adulthood.

I scanned the forest around us and saw the bear. Somehow overlooking it in the beginning, I saw him now, large and hungry. This man must have stumbled upon him and woken him up. The bear was poised above where the man's head lay, standing up to full height, about to throw itself upon the man, killing him with one last blow. This poor man, looking strangely innocent for his age, had been mauled by a bear. He needed help. I refused to allow him to simply die in my presence; I had been surrounded by death since my change. I had to help him.

I rushed to the bear, and, careful not to jostle the bleeding man as I stepped around him, pulled at the bear's head. After one jerk the violent animal's head was decapitated. At the screeching sound coming from bear's mouth during his last seconds, the man whimpered again, louder this time.

Normally, a bear this size would have been a great treat for me, but I wouldn't focus on that. This man needed my help.

I took the man into my arms, careful to keep my head clear by avoiding his scent. I ran at top speed back to where I knew Carlisle and Esme were to be hunting. It was a far distance from where I had found this man, but I knew I could make it. The innocence in this man's face gave me determination.

Finally arriving at their hunting area, I called out to Carlisle, still too soft for the pained man to hear me. Carlisle immediately came to my side, hearing the sudden rush of urgent emotion that I was sure was present in my voice. With one look in my eyes, he knew everything. He still did not know about the bear or what had happened to make me suddenly find purpose with this man, but he knew what I was asking, pleading, with my eyes. He nodded to me, and I laid the man on the ground.

I could not watch this, for I knew the pain it would cause him, and in turn, myself. I heard the grass crackle as Carlisle kneeled beside this man. I heard the tear of skin as his teeth sunk in. I smelled the blood again as it pooled into Carlisle's mouth, but I felt no desire to feed on this man. I felt no need to stop Carlisle, for I trusted him completely, not realizing it until this moment.

I felt the air shift as Carlisle pulled away and stood up.

I heard the tears streaming down the man's face.

I heard his tears turn to screams.

I was changed, forever. And I could only hope it was for the better. After all, the only place my life could go was up.

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