A/N – Hi everyone! Writer-in-the-making16 and I were totally overwhelmed with the wonderful response to the Prologue –Thanks so much for all the reviews, PMs and favs and alerts adds - you guys are awesome! BTW – please do check out Writer-in-the-making16's author profile as well – she's got some lovely stories there.
And on an unrelated note – one more sleep until I get to see Breaking Dawn. Woo hoo! (^_^)
All Twilight characters belong to Stephenie Meyer.
Once Upon A Time
"Forever shall the wolf within me desire the sheep in you."
~ Nightwish, 'Beauty And The Beast'
"Renesmee, Renesmee…"
The young girl paid no mind to her mother's apprehensive calls as her feet carried her deeper into the forest. She was eight years old, and the warm haze of summertime and bright sunshine dancing off the trees around her echoed perfectly how she felt – playful and carefree. She laughed merrily as the spirit of adventure took her deeper into the forest, her chocolate eyes twinkling as her waist-length bronze curls billowed out behind her as she ran.
Renesmee followed the well trodden trail as it wove its way through thick everglades and soaring pines. To anyone else, the trees that curved their boughs overhead would have made the woods seem a dark and foreboding place, but to Renesmee it was mysterious and exciting. She skipped past the bubbling streams and springy, moss-covered ground, until it all opened up to a clearing in the distance. Stepping through the underbrush, Renesmee smiled as she reached her favourite spot, a place where all the world's beauty and magic came together in harmony - the meadow.
Taking a deep breath, she flung herself down onto the soft grass and lay still for a moment. She sighed contentedly as she basked in the rich warmth of the sun and watched its light dance on her skin, giving it a faint glow. She saw the pale, violet-hued wildflowers sway gently in the breeze and mused how they were the perfect accent to this wonderful, wondrous place. Renesmee had brought a book with her to read in case she needed something to do, but now that she was here she realised that at this very moment, her desire was simple - to relax and enjoy Mother Nature's majesty.
She closed her eyes, about to drift away to sleep, when they opened suddenly to the unmistakable sound of a harsh 'snap' within the underbrush. Cautiously, Renesmee sat up, the brown orbs of her eyes wide with alarm as they searched for the source of the sound.
"Who's there?" she called out.
There was no answer, only a deep, menacing growl from the thicket.
Anxiously she looked around for its source, when she caught a glimpse of a rustling near some trees. Slowly, a huge, hulking shape emerged from the underbrush, with fierce teeth, and russet-coloured fur covering its massive, powerful build.
It was a giant wolf.
Renesmee stared at the creature in shock, for she had never seen a beast so fearsome and up close before. She was frightened. She wanted to scream, to run, to escape this place and never look back. And yet, she could not. Her body felt heavy as lead, holding her to the ground where she stood, and numbing any hope of escape.
The wolf continued to approach her slowly, prowling toward her like a lion stalking its prey. It paused, momentarily, its body completely still as its eyes met hers. Renesmee felt a strange sensation as the wolf looked into her eyes. It was as if her whole world had just shifted, and she didn't know why. And there was something else too – it was inexplicable, but she felt so safe, so protected. How strange it was to be in the company of such a fearsome beast, but to feel no fear?
Renesmee closed her eyes, waiting for the wolf's sharp claws and cruel fangs to tear her apart, just like in the hunting stories her uncles had often told her. She wished now that she'd never pushed them into telling her all those stories. If she was going to die, she didn't want to know. Moments passed, and still the blow did not come. Renesmee opened her eyes to find the wolf was no longer pacing, but sitting on its haunches and staring at her with a look of…what was it? Wonder? Curiosity? Devotion? She couldn't decide. But it whatever it was, she felt strangely comforted just being around him, and she knew that while he watched over her she would always be safe and protected.
The wolf remained still as she slowly moved towards him, her body no longer paralysed by her fear. Renesmee carefully reached an arm up toward the great wolf's face, and placed a tiny hand upon his warm muzzle. He (she assumed it was a he) seemed not to mind the physical contact, and for some reason this gave her a great sense of comfort. She brought both her hands to his face, and lightly stroked the creature's rich, soft fur.
Renesmee didn't know a great deal about wolves but she was certain that they weren't always so tame. Perhaps he was different from others of his kind, and was happy to allow people to touch him like this.
"You're a strange wolf," she murmured, scratching behind his velvety ears as his tongue lolled out on one side of his mouth in an oddly cute wolfish grin. "A very strange one indeed. You react to me almost as if you were more a human rather than a wolf."
The wolf's dark eyes stared deep into hers, with a gaze so focused and aware that they couldn't possibly belong to an animal. She was suddenly aware that she was no longer in the body of a child, but of a young woman. The wolf was changing too. As he stood up on his hind legs, his body shrank and human arms and legs began to form. His muzzle shortened into a nose and then a face that she couldn't quite discern, and the fur that had covered his body receded into what she could now see was a rich shade of velvety russet skin.
"Renesmee…" he murmured.
She held her breath as he leaned his face in closer to her...
.
.
.
Renesmee felt his heat on her skin, his kisses - so warm, so loving. She reached her arms out to draw him closer in. And as she began to stir, her body slowly began to recognise the softness of the pillow beneath her head, the smoothness of her sheets and weight of the blankets under which she lay. She sleepily opened one eye and saw that the warmth on her cheeks had only been the early morning sun, stealing through the curtains of her bedroom window.
It had only been a dream.
Yes, it was just a dream, but it had felt so real she swore she could still feel the heat of his kisses lingering on her skin. But, she reminded herself, it was just a dream. And always the same recurring dream. She had been having it for a while now. The dreams had started out intermittently, happening only once or twice every few months, then every few weeks, but now they were happening with startling regularity. And they felt so real, so clear, as if they weren't dreams at all but rather some long forgotten memory. But that's crazy, right? What kind of wolf could be that gentle and tame? It had to be a dream. It was just that it was the same dream, over and over, and that bothered her. But, she mused, at least it wasn't a nightmare, right?
Renesmee closed her eyes again and lay there for a moment, savouring the afterglow of the reverie from which she had just awoken. She didn't know who the faceless man in her dream was, but she remembered with almost crystal clarity how wonderful it felt just being around him, like a comforting hand on her heart, reassuring and steady. The warmth of the morning sun continued to envelop her, and she imagined that was how it would feel to be cradled in the protective arms of the mysterious stranger.
Renesmee was pulled out of her reverie by a light tap, tap, tap against her bedroom door.
"Wake up, sleepyhead!" her father's voice called out. "The day will be half over by the time you get out of bed. You'd better get ready if you want to be on time to meet your Aunts."
"Coming Dad," Renesmee responded, as she threw back the covers and gave her body a lazy stretch.
She rolled over and then sat on the edge of her bed for a moment, taking in the familiar sounds around her. She listened as her father's steady steps walked away from her bedroom and down the stairs towards the kitchen, where she knew he would sit at their small table and drink his morning coffee while he waited for her to come and join him for breakfast. Next door, she could hear her Dad's sister, Aunt Rose telling her husband to be careful on the bear hunt with the other villagers today, and Uncle Emmett laughing his great booming laugh as he told his wife not to be such a worry wart. In the garden of the house adjoining the other side of their home, Renesmee could hear her Dad's brother, Uncle Jasper working away in his workshop as his wife, Aunt Alice, hummed a merry tune as she flitted about their little garden. Across the lane, she could hear Grandma Esme by the window, fussing over Grandpa Carlisle as he got ready for the first of his appointments at his home-clinic.
But life hadn't always been so easy. After her mother had died when she was eight, her father had been a mess. And so Grandpa Carlisle had convinced them to leave the city and move back home to their quaint but out-of-the-way hometown village of Forks. At least here, Grandma Esme could keep an eye on her son, and make sure that her only granddaughter was being properly looked after. And so for the last 10 years, it had been just her and her father in this big house.
Renesmee grew up surrounded by warmth and love, and although she missed her mother, her grandparents, aunts and uncles were only ever a hop, skip and jump over the fence away. Listening to the wonderful, familiar sounds of her family going about their daily business, Renesmee mused to herself how lucky she was to have her loved ones so close by, and how thankful she was that everything had worked out in the end.
Renesmee fixed up her bed, washed her face and put on a light blue dress and matching silk slippers. As she did every day, she touched the tips of her fingers to her lips and then to the smiling picture of her mother that stood on her dresser, and then headed downstairs to start the day.
.
.
.
"Oh Renesmee," Alice sighed as she pulled the remains of Renesmee's morning walk out of her hair. How her niece managed to get so many twigs and dried leaves in her hair just by going for a walk was beyond her. What did she do, go rolling in the grass or something? On second thoughts, Alice decided that she didn't want to know, and instead just continued pulling out yet another piece of dried grass from her niece's waist-length mass of bronze curls. "What am I going to do with you?"
"You're eighteen now Renesmee," Rose chimed in. "It's time to stop running around getting grass all through your hair, and to start acting like a young lady. It's high time you thought about getting married. How about that nice young man – what's his name, Nahuel – he seems to like you. Why, only the other day he was asking after you!"
"Oh yes," Alice chirped, "He is cute. And you know Renesmee, you could do much worse. Why don't we organise to invite him over for tea or something, and you can get to know each other."
Renesmee rolled her eyes. She and her Aunts had this conversation at least a couple of times each week, and each time Renesmee would politely 'smile and disengage' as she called it, while they continued to fuss over her and tut-tut about her tomboyish ways. Renesmee loved her aunts, but sometimes they drove her completely nuts.
She knew that the townspeople thought she was strange – most girls her age dreamed about snaring the village's most eligible bachelor and popping out grandkids for their adoring parents. Renesmee on the other hand, always seemed to have her nose buried in a book, her intellectual curiosity always getting the better of her. Her grandfather had always said that she was smarter than anyone he'd ever known, and a mind that hungered for knowledge the way hers did should be fed. And so he had given her full rein over his extensive library, and she hungrily devoured all of its mysteries. She was also a very skilled musician with a natural gift for song, and her father had encouraged and nurtured her love of music by teaching her to play the piano, harp and violin. She also had the most magical singing voice, and though she never knew it, people would stop and listen to her whenever she sang to herself.
Being remarkably clever as well as talented probably wouldn't have been so extraordinary if Renesmee hadn't been so ethereally beautiful as well. With her pale alabaster skin, doll-like face and cascading bronze curls, the boys all thought she was fascinating, but a little too intimidating to try their hand at courting. And Renesmee was more than happy to encourage their lack of bravery in approaching her. After all, she was in no hurry to get married – there was so much more that she wanted to do – she wanted to travel, to see with her own eyes and experience with her own hands the wonderful and wondrous things she'd read about in her grandpa's library of books. That sounded so much better than getting herself chained to a stove, figuratively speaking, barefoot and pregnant.
Now if any of those would-be suitors had been able to carry on a conversation with her that was halfway interesting, it might have been a different story. But all they wanted to talk about was themselves, their latest feats of bravery, each one trying to outdo the other. And they all had this infuriating habit of talking at her, not to her. Ugh, how annoying. And so that was why Renesmee preferred the company of books and music. And of course, of her wonderful Aunt Rose and Aunt Alice - who were, right at this very moment, still driving her completely batty with their 'you should really think about finding a nice boy and getting married' speech.
In a desperate attempt to change the subject, Renesmee blurted out "Ummm … So I had that dream again last night."
"Ooh," Alice trilled, "the one about the wolf?"
Renesmee nodded, relieved that she'd managed to distract her aunt for the time being.
"You know," Rose added thoughtfully, "Alice is pretty good at deciphering dreams. Why don't you let her have a go at unpicking the meaning of this one?"
Renesmee started recounting the dream to her Aunts. Alice's eyes seemed to glaze over for a moment, and Renesmee couldn't tell if her Aunt was bored or if she was just listening really intently. All of a sudden, Alice spoke in a calm, yet troubled voice –
"Hmm, well this something you don't hear about very often."
"What? What is it?" Renesmee asked.
"I wish I knew myself," Alice mumbled. She sat her niece back down and continued to absently comb through her hair. "A wolf is a hunter and predator by nature; he represents strength and power, but also danger and desire. Having him appear as a docile creature, especially to a child, is unheard of."
"So what about the next part, when I grow up and then feel him take another form?"
"Renesmee, wolves can't possibly turn into men," Rosalie laughed. "Unless this mysterious wolf is one of the Children of the Moon."
An involuntary shudder ran down Renesmee's spine at the mention of those terrifying beasts of which the old legends told. But the Children of the Moon were supposed to be feral and vicious, with wild, crazed eyes, and didn't resemble actual wolves but were rather more like some kind of half-human half-wolf fusion. In contrast, the wolf in her dream wasn't wolf-like at all but was an actual wolf, and his eyes were filled with such warmth and gentleness the memory of them made Renesmee's heart swell.
"I never said he became a man. All I said was that he seemed to be taking another form. Then I felt soft lips against mine, strong arms around me and…" Renesmee trailed off, suddenly feeling the blood rush to her cheeks.
"Um Rose?" Alice interrupted, "This comb doesn't seem to be doing the trick. Could you get me that paddle brush from upstairs?" Alice loved her sister-in-law, but the woman had an irrational fear of wolves and would only panic at what Alice was about to tell Renesmee.
"Is that really necessary," Rosalie began, but Alice shot her a look. "Er, sure, okay then," Rose said, leaving the room.
Alice turned her attentions back to her niece. "You've said these dreams have been going on for a while?"
"Yes," Renesmee answered. "And more often of late."
"Renesmee," Alice began in an uncharacteristically serious tone, a look of worry crossing her usually serene features, "I don't understand what this dream represents or how it will affect your future. But what I am certain of is that if you follow this wolf, you'll be led down a path of mystery and danger. I know it all sounds wonderfully enigmatic and exciting, but everything I'm sensing around this dream seems clouded by a strange foggy darkness. It's making me really uneasy."
Renesmee stared at her aunt in shock and surprise. She had never heard her speak of anything so seriously or solemnly. And of her wolf too. My wolf? Renesmee thought to herself and chuckled inwardly - Since when did he become my wolf?
"Aunt Alice, I don't believe he will hurt me," Renesmee laughed, but Alice's face told her she remained unconvinced.
"Just promise me that you'll be careful? Especially in the next few days."
"What's so special about in the next few days?" Renesmee arched an eyebrow questioningly.
"I just have a feeling," Alice whispered. "And the increasing frequency of the dreams is almost akin to some kind of countdown. So please just trust me on this one, okay?"
Renesmee thought Alice was overreacting, but her Aunt did seem to have a sixth sense about these things sometimes – almost as if she were psychic or something. Renesmee reasoned that she was unlikely find a giant russet wolf in the middle of the village and then go wandering after it anyway, so there was no harm in giving Alice some peace of mind.
"Sure, Aunt Alice," Renesmee smiled, giving her favourite Aunt a reassuring hug. "I'll be careful."
.
.
.
Renesmee had spent a lovely afternoon with her Aunts, but now it was time to head back home to start dinner for her father. When she got to the front gate though, to her surprise, she saw him readying the horses as if he were about to set out on a long trip.
"Ah, Renesmee," her father said, drawing her into a hug as she approached him. "There you are. I've just received news that the ships I had previously feared lost at sea have come in. And so there are some business matters that I must see to in the city and I don't want to leave you alone, but I really must go. I will be back in about ten days. Your uncles will protect you if needed while I'm gone, but you may prefer to stay with your grandparents until I return."
Renesmee's thoughts drifted to her Grandpa's vast library and the delicious scents she often smelled wafting from her Grandma's kitchen, and the decision was pretty much a no-brainer.
"It's a hard choice father, but gee, I guess I'll just have to stay with Grandma Esme," she winked at him. Renesmee was perfectly capable of taking care of herself, but at least if she stayed with her grandparents, it would be one less thing for her father to worry about while he was gone.
Edward ruffled his daughter's hair affectionately as she grinned up at him.
"So then, Sweetheart," Edward asked as he turned his attention back to fixing up the horses, "What would you like me to bring home for you?"
"Just yourself, safe and sound," Renesmee beamed at her father.
Edward's heart swelled with love for his daughter. She was a beautiful girl, on the outside as much as the inside. She had never been a covetous child, preferring instead life's simple pleasures such as revelling in the fresh air and sunshine, and enjoying the company of loved ones. But like most fathers, Edward wanted to shower his child with gifts, and he just wished that she'd make it a bit easier on him to work out what to buy her sometimes. The other women in his family were so much more forthcoming with their requests – Rosalie had told him a while ago that next time he went on a trip she wanted him to bring her back a looking glass, Alice had asked for silks to make dresses, and his mother had requested a new set of paintbrushes. Renesmee, on the other hand, had no interest in material possessions.
"Surely, there is something you'd like," he tried to encourage her. "How about a necklace? Or a bracelet? Or bouquets of wild, exotic flowers? Or maybe even ones of gold, shaped by the finest goldsmiths and artisans in the land?" Edward mused how he would be more than willing to buy his only child every manner of exotic flower, rare blooms found only in faraway places or ones made of diamonds and pearls. But he knew his daughter would most likely set aside such extravagant gifts in favour of something of sentimental value, like a single handpicked rose. It was as if he'd read her mind when he heard what she said next –
"Well," Renesmee teased her father, "if you won't take no for an answer, then a single white rose in full bloom would be just lovely."
"Well, all right then," Edward grinned back at her. "A single white rose it is. Just don't say I told you so when I come back with dresses and jewels for your aunts and grandmother, and all you have to show for it is a droopy old flower," he joked as they hugged each other goodbye.
"Yes father, I mean, no father, I mean whatever you say, father," Renesmee laughed, as Edward ruffled his daughter's hair again affectionately.
The tinkling sound of his daughter's laughter rang in Edward's ears as he rode away. He knew she had been teasing him about the rose and for a moment he had considered insisting that she ask for some other gift in addition to that. But then he remembered that she had never really asked for anything before, even in jest, and so he would make sure he brought back this rose for her. He'd bring her back other gifts too, but the rose she had asked for would be a certainty.
Renesmee waved her father off and whispered a small prayer that he would travel safely and return home again to her soon. She would miss him, but he wouldn't be gone long, and the days would hopefully fly by in the company of her aunts and uncles.
When her father's carriage was finally just a speck in the distance, Renesmee turned to head into the house to pack some clothes for the sleepover at her grandparents' house.
And by the edge of the woods near her house, a giant russet wolf lay hidden in the underbrush, watching as the door clicked closed behind her.
