Somewhere ahead of me, I could hear the roar of the ocean, massive white-capped swells striking the rocky shore hard enough to crack the cliffside and send great chunks plunging into the tumult below. Icy sleet fell from the steel-gray sky, the branches of the trees straining under the weight of glittering frosted crystal. It was a scene of great beauty and awe, but I noticed none of it. The trees were merely obstacles to my eyes, the ice glass daggers that sliced into my limbs and feet as I ran. My breath was smoke in the blistering air.

Normally, it felt good to run, even through conditions like this. But I took no pleasure from the frantic pace I was setting. Fear made my heart pound, and sent electric shocks to the very tips of my nerves. Against all odds, I was keeping ahead of them. Ahead of the ruby-eyed monsters that had chased me to the ends of the world.

Through the barest corner of my vision to my left, I could see one of them, running just behind and parallel. I knew his scent. Its sickly sweetness had been plaguing me for as long as I could remember. No matter how hard I had tried to hide, despite the countless number of miles I had run, he had always been there. And confrontations…oh yes, there had been confrontations. Every month, when I lost all control, my instinct overpowered my fear. When that scent reached my heightened senses, that sweetness burning my nostrils like acid, I had to stop, and turn, and fight.

Why I was not already dead, I cannot guess. My endless pursuer proved time and again that he was the superior fighter. The blood that was shed, the bones broken, and the screams of pain that echoed into the night had always been mine. And yet, though in the past he had managed to beat me to within an inch of death, I had always lived to see the rising sun, to heal enough to start running again. Like he was playing some sort of twisted game. Chase me, fight me when I could not help it, never let me rest or find peace, never kill me.

Until now.

I had known from the start that something had changed. Because this time, there was more than one. My hunter, I could see and smell, but there were three more behind him. The glares of hatred in their crimson eyes, their bared teeth, their snarls and growls…everything said that this was the end. I was going to die this time.

But the sheer fact that I was terrified to die was not what kept me running. It was something I had not felt in a very long time. It was a slight thing, borne of desperation, but it was there. A talisman that lent me strength, kept me moving.

It was hope.

I had heard my pursuers speak just a few short minutes before they found me. It was not much, just a few quick sentences. But the words they had spoken had been enough to light a fire deep within me. It was being constantly beaten back by terror, but yet it did not die. I had only to survive…if only I could survive

The trees broke very abruptly. A whipping branch carved a deep gash across my left eyebrow as I plowed through the icy curtain formed by two towering pines and burst out onto the narrow plateau beyond. There was barely twenty feet between the trees and the edge of the cliff, the sparse grass coated in sheets of ice and sleet. The roar of the ocean beyond drowned out all other sound now, even the footsteps of my pursuers. But not even the briny smell of the churning waters could banish their scent.

I did not stop. My legs carried me across the flat stretch of land, not even feeling the ice that cut into my bare soles. But I could hear footsteps now, right behind me. I could see pale white hands, fingers arched like claws, reaching. Crimson eyes flashed like fire, mouths opened wide in snarls of rage.

There was no thought to my action. The edge of the cliff was right in front of me. Two long strides, and then I was airborne. I did not even feel the tensing of my muscles, or register the physical motion of the jump. The cliff was now fifteen feet behind me, my limbs spread-eagled to the icy open air. And then I was falling.

That I had managed to jump just far enough to be out of the reach of the rocks at the base of the cliff barely occurred to me. The only thing I noticed as my body hit the water was that my pursuers had not followed me.

The water was near freezing, but the cold could not paralyze me. The churning waves beat and battered me, but I managed to struggle to the surface. I spared only one small glance back. There were four of them, and they were staring at me. But they were not trying to follow. And I did not stop to consider why. I struck out, fighting the waves every inch of the way as I headed towards the open ocean. My hunters watched me go, let me go. Still playing their game.

I held on to that one minute hope. That name. That place. That pack.

Quileute. The home of werewolves. Like me.

I did not know how I was going to find them, but I knew I had to, no matter what the cost. Werewolves that could change at will, and control their instincts. That could fight and kill those ruby-eyed monsters.

Vampires.

I had always known they had existed, from the very moment I had been "reborn", as the wolf that had bitten me had put it. They were the mortal enemies of my kind. The wolf that had bitten me had promised me he would teach me how to protect myself from them. That together we would find a way to show them that we had a place in the world that they could never take away.

In the short while he had been with me, he had made me believe there was something to this life, to being a werewolf, besides instinct and animal desires. And then he had been slain, hunted down and torn to pieces by our vampire enemies. And I had been left alone. Ever since, I had scented no other of my kind.

The words of my enemies held promise that I was not the last. And no matter what it took, I would find them. I would beg them to accept me, to teach me their ways. And then, maybe then, I would be safe at last.

It was with this singular thought in mind that I left the stormy shores behind, and started across the unforgiving sea. I would find them, somehow.

The Quileute wolves. Wherever they were. Whoever they were.

I will find you.


No words were spoken as the hunters watched the werewolf disappear into the distance. It was only when she could no longer be seen, even by their eyes, that they slowly turned to face one another.

"Aro seems very confident of this," one, a slight female with the rounded, cherubish face akin to a child, spoke first. "I am sure she heard us."

Nobody answered the female's words. All eyes turned now to the male that stood closest to the cliff edge, his pale white skin glittering even in the stormy gloom that surrounded them. He seemed unwilling to speak, and turned back towards the ocean. The gale force wind whipped around them, unable to move the statuesque stillness of their bodies but making their long gray cloaks flutter fiercely.

"You did well, Demetri," the silent male said at last, though there was an undeniable tone of furious regret in his voice. "Few possess the restraint you demonstrated by continuing to hunt her without killing her." There was a short pause. "Disgusting beast."

The male turned away from the ocean and reached underneath his cloak. He pulled out a small silver object, which he flipped open and held up to his ear as he started striding forward, moving back into the trees. The others followed him wordlessly.

"Caius!" they all heard from the cell phone the male was holding. "Did it work, my friend? Has the seed been sown?"

"Yes," Caius replied grudgingly. "Demetri sensed the change in her focus that you wanted. She is going to try to join the Quileute wolves." He paused again. Then, his face twisted in anger, his temper apparently broken at last. "Aro, what is the point of letting that beast go? What possible use could she be to us? What if they let her join them?"

"Peace, my brother," Aro replied calmly. "I must admit I do not know how the wolves will react to her, but I am rather hoping they do accept her. The Children of the Moon are bound to the lunar cycle, and everything it entails. She will never be able to control herself; you know that well enough, Caius, with all of your remarkable experience with their kind. The aftermath of that full moon should be all the excuse we need to…uphold the laws."

"And if the Cullens get in the way?"

"They will not be able to stop her completely. After all, our dear Alice will never be able to see our friend coming, now will she?" There was a pause. "By the way, did Demetri ever find out what the werewolf's name is? I am faintly curious."

All eyes turned momentarily to Demetri, who gave a very slight shrug.

"I heard her maker call her Bane before I killed him," he replied offhandedly.

"Bane," Aro repeated. Nobody could mistake the pleasure in his voice. "How…appropriate."