Chapter 2 - Wolves

Despair helps no one.

I will use my hands,

I will do something.

I will do what is right,

If only to repair what has been broken.

Edward bends over to look at the young girl, turning her over onto her back. Her pale copper skin looks waxy, and cold, and mouth hangs open, just slightly. A thin trail of deep red blood drips from the corner of her mouth. I wrinkle my nose from the smell. Edward adjusts her head, and pushes the hair back from her neck, where there is a small mark surrounded by bruises. The flesh is punctured, the perfect outline of two fangs which dug into her skin the only tell for what happened to her.

"She's been bitten." Edward swallows, hard.

"How? Nobody in our family would do that!"

"It wasn't one of us," he seethes. "Someone else has been here, and killed her."

I take a step back, tears welling up in my eyes.

"Carlisle needs to see this," Edward mutters.

Suddenly, we hear a rustle in the brush behind us, and Alice and Carlisle appear behind us.

"Edward," Alice gasps.

"What happened," Carlisle asks, his voice quavering.

Edward doesn't answer, he just brushes the hair away from the wound again, and Carlisle gasps.

"And she's a wolf," I say, showing him the tattoo.

"Who," Carlisle starts.

"We don't know," Edward replies, "but it's not one of us."

Carlisle doesn't reply, he just shakes his head, and hoists the body up in his arms. Alice follows, tears brimming in her eyes.

"Come on," Edward sighs. "We'll have to warn the others."

Rosalie looks down at the young werewolf in disgust. She winces while Carlisle explains that she had been bitten, and that none of us could have done it.

"So, who is she," Emmet asks, looking over at Jacob.

Jacob stands in the corner of the room, silent, and cold. His arms are folded across his chest, and his jaw is flexed, a small vein visible against his neck. "I don't know. Sam doesn't know, either," he answers, his voice gruff and low.

Renesmée reaches out for his hand, but he swats it away, his anger nearly boiling over. Edward shoots him an angry glance, reminding him to keep his temper in check, especially around Renesmée.

"She's not a Quileutae werewolf," Alice suddenly says. "I thought she was, but look!" She snatches Jacob's arm and drags him over to the girl, comparing tattoos. His tattoo had a Native American depiction of two wolves, mirrored. Hers was a literal drawing of a wolf, howling at the moon, with traditional geometric designs where the night sky would be.

"The designs are similar, but not the same," Alice explains. "She's from another tribe."

"Why would there be werewolves up here," Jacob snaps.

Alice takes a step back. "Someone's been using this place as a hunting ground."

"That doesn't make sense, how could they not get caught," Edward asks.

"I don't know," Alice says, retreating back to an open-armed jasper, who kisses her on the head.

"At least you tried," he says. She smiles.

"So someone has been using this place as a hunting ground for long enough to make a group of people create a tribe of shapeshifter werewolves," Carlisle says.

The room grows silent. It just doesn't make any sense.

The next morning, a heavy storm drenches the whole town in rain, making driving impossible for us, since our road out of the lot is made of dirt. Instead, we run to school, while Emmet drives the jeep with Jacob and Renesmée. Rosalie refuses to go to school, complaining that it's too muddy for her to even think about running around. It turns out that just Edward, jasper and I run, leaving Alice behind, who, like Rosalie, despises running in the rain.

We arrive at school an hour before it starts, so we decide to hang out in the forest for a while. The tall deciduous trees sparkle green in the rain, tiny droplets of water bursting on the mossy ground. If we had been alive, our breath would have turned to mist in the chilled air.

Edward holds my hand as we stand below a particularly tall oak tree, staring at me with those beautiful topaz eyes. His mouth twists into that beautiful crooked smile, and I can't help but get embarrassed.

"Why did you fall in love with me," I ask. "I was just an ugly, weak human."

"I think I've answered that question before," he says, laughing. "To put it simply, you're exactly right for me." He leans over and plants a kiss on my forehead, squeezing me close to him.

I smile, breathing in his scent.

"We should go," he finally says. "Our classmates are looking for us."

I sigh as he pulls away, but he never lets go of my hand. Together we bolt off back toward the school, watching the trees whip by.

"Bella," a young girl with dark skin and dark eyes calls.

"Good morning, Dahlia," I reply, smiling gently.

"I've been looking for you all morning," she says, folding her arms.

"Yeah, I was with-"

"Edward," she sighs. "You know, you can't spend all your time with your boyfriend and his family."

I snicker.

"What are you laughing at," she whines.

"You're so funny, sometimes," I giggle.

"It's a valid point," she sulks. "I wanna spend time with you, is that so bad?"

"Not at all," I say, wiping a tear from my eye. If only she knew.

"So... Saturday?"

Crap. On Saturday I'm supposed to go hunting. "Sure," I say, making a note to go Friday instead.

Dahlia smiles, victorious. "Finally!"

"Do you have something against my boyfriend," I ask.

"Other than the fact that he steals you from me all the time, you mean?"

"Yeah."

"Well," she starts, "he's always with you, and he doesn't let you have much space. He's constantly staring at you like he thinks you're going to run away, and I hate his weird smile."

"You mean his adorable crooked smile," I ask.

"Ugh, I can't believe you think that's cute." She shudders. "Anyway, I just feel want you to get some time away from him. It's like he owns you or something."

I smile. "Well, I guess it would be nice to have a night off."

We walk together to our next class, where Edward waits for me, patiently.

"Hey," Dahlia says, "I wanna ask you something, without him being around."

"Yeah?"

"Your sister, Renesmée, I was wondering..."

"What?"

"She looks like you, but she also looks a lot like him..."

Whoa.

"You think so?"

"Yeah, it's kind of weird. Like, he's not related to you, right?"

"No, not as far as I know."

"Maybe it's just a weird coincidence."

"Yeah," I mumble, turning back to join Edward again, as Dahlia marches off to find her seat.

"You have an observant friend," Edward mumbles so quietly, that no one else can hear.

"I don't know how she picked up on it so fast."

"This is why we don't usually make friends at school."

That Friday, Carlisle reports that the werewolf girl's missing person's poster was hanging in the police box, so someone is missing her. We know she wouldn't be coming home, but we have to do something about it, tow put their mind at rest.

Carlisle retreats into his office to work, trying to cover up the damage done by the unknown vampire. He'll then take it to the morgue and report that she was found dead in the forest, of hypothermia.

Meanwhile, I go out with Dahlia, without Edward. He smirks when I remind him of our plan, and kisses me on the cheek as I leave. Dahlia waits for me by the goodroast cafe, two cups of hot coffee in her hands.

"I got you a hot chocolate, since I don't know what you like in your coffee," she says, giving me a glorious smile.

I take the cup and sip, the disgusting taste of chocolate hitting me like a wave . "Thanks," I say, wiping the corners of my mouth. I haven't eaten human food in a very long time.

"So, I thought we could go to the new bookstore, and then go to a matinee showing of Pink Guns." She sips her coffee eagerly, savouring the bitter taste.

"Sounds like fun," I say, taking another large sip. I do my best not to wince when I taste the disgusting brown liquid.

"Good. I want to check out this new book."

I smile over at her, happy to be in her presence, but less than impressed to be here.

We make our way across the "busy" street, and enter the large bookstore.

Dahlia gasps as she walks through the doors, making a heeling for the book that's on display. She squeals as she lifts the brightly colored book, exclaiming that the author is her favourite.

The book is some stupid novel about a girl who dies and comes back to life. I shake my head, and turn to her.

"Is this what you were here for?"

"No," she sighs, "I wanted to go to the occult section."

Whoa. "What for?"

"I... It's embarrassing," she says. "I'm probably just being paranoid, but..."

"What's up?"

"One of my friends has been acting weird lately, and last week she went out and never came home."

"Really," I ask.

"Have you seen her?"

"What did she look like?" I try to keep myself from freaking out. We may have found her friend dead in the woods.

"Well, she's Native, she's got short hair and a huge tattoo on her shoulder."