Darkbloom chapter 3: The Hunt
A/N: So many thanks to my readers and especially to those who took the time to review — your encouragement helps my neuroses stay under control when writing. ... And I just realized this is the second A/N in a row where I've addressed my neuroses. Yep, definitely crazy. ^_^

Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns. And apparently my chapters are still short.

&.&.&

Hunting on my own was a very different experience than hunting with my parents.

I ran lightly as I'd seen my parents do, carefully avoiding any crunchy leaves or twigs and breathing only through my nose — slow, steady pulls that drew me toward the scent and helped my limbs move fluidly. I still felt a bit unnatural, hunting alone. I missed the camaraderie, and the silent competition — though I'd always been too weak to truly hold my own against the rest.

When I was close enough to hear the thrumming of deer hearts, I waited for a breeze to shake the nearby leaves enough to cover the noise as I scaled a large tree. On land, I wasn't as fast as a vampire, or a deer. And my hair would surely only alert them to my presence faster, waving behind me like an auburn banner. But I could climb faster than I could run.

I scampered out onto a branch where they were finally in my sight: at least three does and one fawn nibbling some sweet plants growing low to the ground. My heart was thundering in my chest from nerves or hunger or both, and my tastebuds pricked sharply. I held my breath, crept out until I was directly over the one that seemed most engrossed in its snack, and silently launched myself out of the tree while trying to hold the posture my mother did when she would attack predators twice her size.

Midway through the air, something went horribly wrong, as the deer all looked up in the same millisecond — and I realized my stupid head was eclipsing the sunlight, casting them in shadow. They scattered in three directions instinctively, the fawn keeping close to one doe. All of this transpired in the second it took me to fall to the earth and land — hard — on my stomach in the patch of clover.

FUCK, that hurt.

Once I recovered my breath, I rolled over carefully, groaning and checking for broken bones. Everything seemed to be in its right place, though every bone felt like it was vibrating in its socket.

I didn't get injured often, but I'd had a lot of close calls. While I was graceful enough to climb trees and skip over rocks to get across a stream, it was possible to pierce my skin, and I'd gotten quite a few bruises jumping among the rocks and trees around our house. Usually, I was trying to keep up with some member of my family when they forgot to match my speed or lost themselves to the hunt. Though I knew it wasn't intentional, it stung my ego that there was no way I could keep up physically.

My favorite times were when Jacob joined our hunting party, when he was in his wolf form. He would trot over to me and nudge my shoulder, and it was hard not to laugh because somehow, his posture and mannerisms, while lupine, were so characteristically Jacob — the way he lowered his head to look me in the eyes, how his back moved when he walked … it fascinated me every time. When he came hunting, I was allowed to ride on his back, and then — finally — I felt like an equal part of the group. I could feel my family members running with abandon, not holding back, and Jacob, holding the line with them as they covered miles and miles of territory up into the green mountains.

When I was hurt, my grandfather Carlisle would check me over when he arrived home. His cold hands would tickle the spot where I'd fallen as he checked for lumps or swelling. Then he'd poke me in the bellybutton and pronounce me "the healthiest half-vampire, half-human girl" he'd "ever had the privilege to examine." Lately I'd begun rolling my eyes and repeating it aloud with him.

Only once had he not made his usual declaration. It was two years previous. I'd been out with Jacob near the reservation. I'd chosen a tall tree, daring him to climb it with me, because as nimble as he was on the ground, I thought I could tell he was a little afraid of heights. He always stuck so close to me when we were near a large drop. Not wanting to be outdone, he'd followed me up the lower branches. The sounds of our climb had masked the sound of the wolf phasing. Collin.

It wasn't intentional — he'd been in the woods near his house and smelled vampire blood. The change took over; not many wolves had as much self-control as Jacob or Seth. I heard a low growl, saw a blur of motion in the corner of my eye, and fell for what felt like minutes, until I hit the rocky ground hard, flat on my back, the wind knocked out of me.

Time went all funny then — I remember with clarity seeing the leaves rustle on the branches, the sunlight streaming through, but I heard nothing. After what was likely only a few seconds, I gasped air back into my lungs. Then I heard the struggle.

Turning my head, I saw Jacob — my wolf Jacob — standing over Collin. The smaller wolf's muzzle was pressed into the dirt, his body quivering as Jacob's upper body pinned him. If I hadn't seen Jacob's face, I might've thought they were playing; but his eyes bulged, and saliva dripped from his bared teeth as he snarled. When Collin's hind legs scraped against the ground looking for traction, Jacob's snarls grew louder. I was scared for both of them. I didn't want to watch; I couldn't turn away.

When Collin grew very still and stopped shaking, Jacob gradually eased off. Collin stayed in the submissive position, and Jacob gingerly took a step back, his growl fading to a low rumble. I saw Collin phase back, heard the rustling and bristling sound I'd missed a few moments before. Even after he was fully human, he remained kneeling, and Jacob phased as well. I was shocked to see he was a dirty, scrawny boy who didn't look much older than me. Both of them immediately started yelling.

"What the hell were you thinking, attacking like a predator?" Jacob's voice was low and rough, his eyes flashing. "You could've hurt her!"

"You! You bring a bloodsucker onto my property without so much as a warning to me?" Colin's voice matched Jacob's in fury.

"She's not a bloodsucker!" was Jacob's response, but his voice didn't hold the authority it had previously. I felt ashamed watching two naked men having a shouting match while lying dumbly on my back.

"I- I'm okay," I stuttered, my voice coming out gravelly and unnaturally high. "I'm sorry." I should have known not to trespass — I knew that the amity between my parents and Jacob's pack did not extend to every wolf in La Push. Lots of them advocated the old ways, boundary lines and distrust. Both men froze, then mumbled apologies and made amends.

Jacob had suddenly seemed hyper-aware of my presence, shuffling a few feet to the side so he was mostly obscured by a large rhododendron bush. He sheepishly asked Colin for some clothes, since his had been shredded when he'd phased.

Once the two were dressed, Jacob picked me up gingerly and carried me back to his house. I don't remember it being painful, but my dad said later maybe the adrenaline pumping through my system had numbed me. When Jacob put me in the front seat of his car to drive me home, though, every pothole and curve in the road jarred my bones and made my sides ache furiously.

At some point in the drive, I noticed my dad running alongside the car, under the cover of the woods.

"He was worried about you," Jacob said, never taking his eyes off the road. When we reached the turnoff for my house, everyone was standing in the drive and followed us up to the garage. I started to feel very nervous, thinking my injuries were maybe more severe than I could feel. Jacob put his hand on my knee, and the warmth spread upward, comforting me.

"They only knew you'd been hurt, and wanted to make sure you were conscious. They were all worried about you, but you're going to be okay. Don't worry, Mae," he said as he cut the engine. His voice was low and tender, and I closed my eyes, focusing on the warm spot on my knee where his hand was.

My dad flung open the car door and removed me swiftly and smoothly.

"I'm going to be okay." I echoed Jacob's words to him, my voice less sure. His face was wild, his hair knotted and twisted as though he'd been yanking it with his hands.

This time, Carlisle's mouth was set in a thin line as he examined me wordlessly. He pronounced I had bruised ribs and some minor cuts and bumps, but insisted I should stay in bed for two days, which felt like punishment.

I spent the weekend reading Anna Karenina and imagining myself in a fur hat, speeding across Russia on a fast train. The left side of my body blossomed into brilliant purples and greys, and then greens for a week after. Jacob came every day, and brought a disgusting concoction from the reservation, some blend of crushed-up herbs in hot water that made a sort of sludge I was to drink. It was vile, but it helped the pain for a short time. He'd hardly left my side for five days, bringing me little things from his time away: a bright blue wildflower, a pebble smooth and perfect from the stream, a large waxen green leaf.

That was the last time I was allowed to come onto the reservation without prior approval from one of the elders.

&.&.&

After peeling myself off the ground and stumbling around attempting to shake off the dizziness from my fall, I sniffed the air again to try and find the deer — or something better.

My senses were not as developed as my family's. While they were able to process different layers of scent, categorize them, and pinpoint their relative distances, my nose was … moderate. I could stand rooted in one spot and sniff the air carefully to find what I was looking for within a certain radius — far diminutive to my parents' — but the weather had to cooperate.

Thankfully the wind was low, and no nearby plants were overpowering; I smelled the hot, musky essence in the west. My mouth watered again, and I thought I might drool. I kept a safe distance, staying yards away in the deep blue late afternoon shadows.

Preempt the deer's thinking, Alice's voice said in my head. I tried to remember her instruction. Follow your natural instinct; don't try to think about what the deer will do. Don't think — just act.

I ran noiselessly out of the shadows towards the doe on the fringe of the group, my hand curled by my head, ready to attack. This time I just sprang towards the slowest ones I'd observed before – the doe and fawn. I saw the doe's ear twitch toward me in the split-second I hung in the air; instinctively, I pounced on the fawn as its mother scampered away. I was so distracted by the image of the mother deer darting away to save herself, I barely registered that I held the small one in my grip. My hands clamped rigidly around its neck, cutting off its air supply as I pushed its head up. Yes! I knew this; it was second nature to me. My other hand held down the deer's haunch, incapacitating it as its legs kicked and pushed against the dirt. My thoughts flitted again to Collin, the wolf who had attacked me, and a rush of adrenaline shot through me as I realized I mimicked Jacob's posture, crouched dominant over the smaller animal.

Without preamble I sank my teeth into the deer's neck, waiting for the reassuring gush of warm, sticky liquid. Nothing. I drew my head back and repeated the motion, biting down as hard as I could until my jaw went numb. A tiny trickle of blood oozed from the wound, and I applied my mouth to it, but it felt like trying to get water from a stone. The more I tried, the less blood came out, until I could only guess the wound had closed up.

I screamed in frustration at the sky. Of course I can't even kill a baby deer on my own. I'm the only fucking person in existence who could starve to death holding food in her hands! I gritted my teeth and tried to think, tried to ignore the pulse beneath my hands. I need my parents. I need Jacob. I need longer fingernails. I need a knife.

Panicking, I dug my knee into the animal's haunch, though now its legs had almost stopped moving. I tried not to look at the deer's eyes, bugging out as I searched the ground around me for something — anything — sharp. Finally, I found a shard of rock nature had chiseled into a jagged point. Holding it like a dagger, I stabbed as hard as I could into the pulse point of the deer. At first, I thought my efforts had been fruitless, until I removed the stone and saw a small amount of blood seeping from the wound.

And finally, I drank until I was satiated, the warm, salty liquid comforting the gnawing in my stomach and calming my erratic heart.

&.&.&

After I'd buried the drained deer carcass, I crawled up a large sequoia with neighboring trees to shelter me from the wind. The branches were large, the red bark soft against my body. The moon was rising, a huge white orb through the treetops, and it made me wish for the first time that I was home, seeing it from the safety of my room. But I knew it wasn't me — I wasn't that girl anymore. Even if I turned and ran home at that moment, the house, my bed, would feel alien, like something out of a dream. I wasn't sure where I belonged anymore other than this tree, this forest, and alone. I tried to block from my mind the darting, terrified eyes of the baby deer as I'd slowly crushed the life out of it, and finally, I drifted into a restless, fitful sleep.

A/N: Thanks ever so much to Philadelphic, Adoraklutz, and Feisty Y. Beden for their huge help and encouragement.