STORY DISCLAIMER: The names, characters, and places mentioned in this chapter are all from the Twilight Saga author, Stephenie Meyer and from the Twilight Saga itself. All rights belong to her. Any mention of names, characters, and places which are not in the books are fictitious and made up by the author of this FanFiction.

CHAPTER DISCLAIMER: The legend mentioned in this chapter is NOT mine. You can see that I have completely copied this from the site stated inside the parenthesis. ( wwwDOTnative-languagesDOTorg/quileutestory2DOThtm ). This version of the legend comes from Manuel Andrade's 1930 collection Quileute Texts, which is out of print. The storyteller was a bilingual Quileute man named Hallie George. No copyright infringement intended.

THIS STORY IS UNDERGOING REVISIONS


THE TRIBE WHO TOOK ME IN

"Where are you, sweetheart?"

We'll find you wherever you are."

"Renesmee."

And she saw the lady whose complexion was the palest Renesmee had ever seen smile at her.

For what could be the millionth time, she looked into the woman's golden eyes and yet she still felt shivers on her own skin.

Shivers of familiarity.

And that scared her.

...

That was all she could think of most of the time while she helped for the bonfire that is to be held that night. Renesmee had been dreaming about this stuff – these people - for as long as she could remember and it was always the same.

The pale people.

From stories she heard around the reservation, the people in her dreams fitted the description of the creatures the Quileute tribe protected their people from: The Cold Ones. Everything was as it was described to her by the elders: the pale skin, the grace in their movements, the speed they move in her dreams, and the stunning beauty that no other human could possess. It all fitted the description.

Except for one thing.

The eyes.

She was told that all Cold Ones have red eyes from the food they fed on: human blood. It would be black at times when they were hungry and on a rampage, but never gold. And yet the Cold People in her dreams had golden eyes.

Renesmee had already done the barbecue and the hotdogs for the bonfire and they were all packed up and set for grilling later that night. The other girls from the Quileute reservation had told her to rest for she had done a lot already but instead, she had started cleaning up. When they were done, the food packed at the back of a pick up truck along with the drinks and materials, there was more than enough time left to head home and change for the event.

By sunset, the girls were all driving to First Beach and they began preparing dinner right away. Not too long, people started to come and in no time, just when the first few stars appeared in the skies, the area they occupied had been filled with faces Renesmee recognized: Harry Clearwater with his wife Sue and his kids Leah and Seth, Embry Call, Quil Ateara with his grandfather Old Quil who is an elder of the tribe, young Brady Fuller and Collin Littlesea. The girls have been right in preparing a lot of food because after just a few minutes it came down to almost half the stock. No matter, everyone had fun and enjoyed the night by dancing around the flames, playing in the sand, and basically chatting.

That was until 8PM came.

Everyone began to quiet down and whisper to whoever they were with. From the distance, Renesmee began to see what the fuss was about and so she wondered herself.

What are they doing here?

"I have no idea."

She was so sure that she only thought of it, still, her best friend, Jacob Black had answered her question as if she'd spoken it out loud.

That happened a lot. She would think of something and Jacob read her like an open book. Some people said that Renesmee was a difficult person to read, and yet to Jake it seemed a piece of cake to do so. He may know her a lot more that she gave him credit for.

"What are they going to do?" She whispered to him.

"Wish I know," He mumbled.

Billy Black, the current Chief of the tribe approached the men and met them halfway. They spoke in silence so no one heard anything, but to Renesmee, she swore she heard something about Cold Ones' scent dancing at the borders. She simply shrugged it off.

As a member of the tribe, she had learned to believe the legends that swirl everywhere. Every story they told her, myth or truth, she believed it. It was part of being here for two years even though she was a stranger.

The chief ended the conversation with the men and faced the worried crowd and told them, "There is nothing to worry about, everyone." And he gave out the best smile he could muster at the moment.

Everyone went back to their own business and continued their merry-making like nothing have bothered it in the first place. Jacob and Renesmee stood there, still looking at the men. They were not shooting daggers at them, just looking, when the leader, Sam as what Renesmee could recall, had shot a look their way and directly to Jacob.

She felt Jake tense beside her and she looked up to see his fists clenched tightly and looking back at the group of boys wearing nothing but cut-offs. Sensing something unpleasant, Renesmee tugged on Jake's clothes to get his attention and tried to direct him back with the others.

"Let's dance?"

It was a good thing that he always listened to her pleas and demands.

...

The Fire crackled as the Quileutes took their seats around the warm fire. When everyone was settled and comfortable, the chief began the story.

"Here lived a big woman named Dask'iya'. She used to steal children and take them to Yaq'ilis creek, going up the Quileute river, where she put the children together. Here Dask'iya' would cook the children. She built a big fire and put rocks into the fire, which Dask'iya' used to broil the children. Before broiling the children she put gum in their eyes so that they could not see anything.

"One day she caught many children. Then she heated the stones which she was going to use to broil the children. The children were standing around the fire, but they were unable to see because they were affected by the gum. Then one older girl warmed her hands in order to melt the gum that was stuck in her eyes. In the meantime Dask'iya' was dancing and singing, saying that the fire was getting hot, and the rocks were about to be ready. Then the little girl finally melted the gum and opened her eyes. Then Dask'iya' kept on dancing and singing. Then when the girl was in front of her she pushed Dask'iya' into the fire. Then Dask'iya' burned quickly because there was nothing but gum in the fire.

Then after Dask'iya' burned completely, the girl warmed her hands again and melted the gum which was stuck in the eyes of the children. Then all the children opened their eyes. Then the children all went home and they were all right."

"So you're saying that this little girl pushed an ogress into the fire?" Jacob had asked as he put emphasis on the world little.

"She did."

"Aren't ogresses big?" Seth Clearwater questioned.

"They are, young one, but that is not the point of the story, now, is it?"

They were quiet and looking at each other. Nobody had thought of the real lesson in it actually.

"What is the point, then?"

"Can no one tell?" The chief challenged.

"The girl was resourceful," Renesmee began and all heads turned to her. That made her hesitate to continue but the elders nodded at her.

"When you're put in that situation, would you even think of rubbing your hands to melt gum? Do we even know if heat from hand rubbing can do that?" She paused for a while. "The young girl in the story had knowledge and she used it to be resourceful at the time of need. Thus, killing Dask'iya' and saving the other children from being eaten."

"Very good, child." Old Quil was obviously impressed along with the other elders.

"Indeed," Billy agreed. "Knowledge is important for we don't know when we are going to need it. Even the little things which seemed silly and pointless may become so important that one day, it might save your life as well as others."

"You're good," Jake whispered to Renesmee as the elders continued explaining the meaning of the story. "I could never have thought of it."

"Then you're poor at comprehension, Jacob. You're not a good listener."

"Oh, come on, Nessie. You know I'm a good listener," But she shrugged and faced him.

"Prove it."

"I listen to you, Nessie." He whispered to her so quietly. "I listen to you."

And it was frighteningly clear that no matter how hard she tried to deny it, Nessie's heart had skipped a beat or two because of those little words her best friend had whispered to her.


NOTE: I took the rest of the chapters down for revisions and editing. I'm sorry for how immature the story line seemed (if you've read it before) and I will try to get things better. I am aware of my poor use of tenses as well, so no need to be harsh about that.

Thank you for reading and I would love to hear from you...