A/N: Alright, I learned one thing from these reviews: either you've all got great senses of humor, or terrible ones.

I'm going to go ahead and assume great senses of humor. If that's okay with all y'all.

--themagicaldividingline--

"Bella?" She smiles at me innocently, fingers laced together over her books. The poster child for good behavior.

A dark lock of hair dusts her face, wrinkled shirt bunched up around her arms.

"You want to…talk about…" I cough. She has remained firmly seated in her chair while the rest of the class flowed around her in a trickle of woebegone mini-angsters.

"Talk about…um…" Gesticulating randomly and with little to no sense, my hands speak shapes in the air that have no bearing on the situation.

"I do." I heave a great cetacean sigh, flexing my hand.

"I suppose Edward already knows." She shakes her head numbly.

"But can't he do the…mind…thing?" I ask, once again gesticulating like a massive idiot.

She frowns. "No. Not for me."

"Oh. Uh." I cough, rubbing the back of my neck with my hand. To some degree, I'd always known this would happen.

"But Alice knows." She informs me, a clever smile playing at her lips.

"So…you…" I sigh. "Do you have questions?"

She nods. "Considering how often it seems I'm having to ask these, I ought to just write them down." Ha!

"It's not really my place to answer them."

"But will you, anyway?" I shrug.

"We could just get Glenwood over here pretty quick."

"How?" She asks me, half-rising out of her chair.

"Just go shout in the woods for a few hours. You'll probably get his attention. After all, he's pretty much dubbed you 'vampire girl'." Not a lie. You should see some of our conversations:

'Did they turn the vampire girl?'

'Not yet, Glen.'

'I thought by now they would turn the vampire girl into a vampire.'

'Do you really want them to?'

'Of course not. The last thing I need is more of the smart ones on my hands.'

'The werewolves aren't dumb, are they?'

'No generalizations for the werewolves.'

'But-'

'Cora, what is ice cream?'

Seriously. Word for word. He knows everything about everything unless you count modern society.

"I'm not really inclined to walk around in the woods for several hours, Ms. Regence." She tells me scathingly, a glare threatening on the horizon.

(Oh no! Not a glare from a teenager!)

I snort. "Fine."

Luckily, I have considerably better forest sprite service.

"Glen?" I call softly, my voice floating on the wind, being carried towards the window before it bursts into tiny little waves that sputter in every direction, blown.

"Hello, love." He replies almost instantly from the back of the room, where I cannot see him.

No matter how many times he does that, my heart always speeds up a bit. Before turning around, I take note of how Bella shows no shock or awe that he arrived that quickly.

I doubt she has any trouble understanding the concept of otherworldly creatures with 'special humans'.

Spinning around in my chair, I'm mildly relieved to see that he has relaxed into his natural form.

The most perfect creature imaginable – so few flaws, when one would look at him you would think of him not so much as being born as being sculpted by the hand of an angel. Cheekbones sharp as cliff faces, jutting from his pointed face, a slim nose and slender chin form an angular frame around eyes of constantly morphing shades of outlandish brown.

Even thinking about them makes me feel as though he's watching me.

His frame is lithe though muscular, almost elfish in his stature, moving with inhuman grace and a mesmerizing unheard rhythm to all his movements.

"Hello again, Bella." He says quietly, tilting his head to the side as if to get a better look at this girl.

"Hello…Glen, right?" She smiles, sliding out of her seat to come towards him.

He himself does not advance, but watches her approach with a curious withdrawn air, as if the situation does not immediately concern him, as it likely doesn't.

"You had questions?" He's handling this with surprising grace, considering the first time I met him (conscious and coherent) he was nearly tripping over himself with social awkwardness.

"Mmhm."

"I don't suppose you'll just ask me my favorite color?"

"Well, I guess that'd be a start." He chuckles.

"Grey. But I reserve the right to pass on a question if…Cor-" I bounce my eyebrows to shush him.

"If Ms. Regence deems it unnecessary or too…personal." Clever boy, no?

She shrugs apathetically. "Whatever. So, what are you exactly?"

"Now Bella, don't tell me you haven't figured that one out already!" I interject. "I am insulted as a teacher!" I place my hand on my chest, feigning injured pride.

"Well, I want to know what he calls himself." She turns back to Glen. "So?"

He pauses, running a tongue over his teeth. "I suppose tree sprite just about covers it. Forest god. Wood nymph. All of the above, really."

"And what does that entail?" His brown and black peppered eyes flicker to me in amusement.

"A lot of…stuff." He answers. King of the Vagues, bow down to his Royal Crypticness!

"Basically anything and everything he wants to do in the forest."

"North west forests." He corrects me. What-ever, man.

She pauses, eyeing both of us carefully. "'Kay."

She considers her next question for a moment.

"Why so curious?" He asks her, ever changing eyes sparkling with mirth and mischief.

"Because there aren't exactly a lot of myths about wood nymphs. In fact, it pretty much stops with Greek culture. There isn't much for me to assume."

He looks to me. "Well, she has a point."

I was a lot worse when I found out. I guess your first mythical creature is always the one that sticks with you, huh?

"What do you do?"

"What do I…do?"

"You know. As a job or for fun or as a goal or…a purpose."

"You mean like the wolves and their vampire task." She looks at him curiously.

"You know that?"

"I suppose it would tie into the answer."

"Which would be…?"

"I…" The perfectly etched arches of his lips curve upwards in a sly smile. "I mediate."

"…the werewolves and the vampires?"

"Indeed."

"And you do what with them, exactly?"

"Prevent them from tearing apart my forest, my people, each other or themselves."

"So you're like a plastic divider. Only a person."

I snort, I can't help it.

Ah, but now the lamb shall pounce on me!

"So what does that make you?"

I pause, unsure of just how to answer her question.

"Switzerland." I answer finally.

"Switzerland…"

"I refuse to be affected by territorial disputes between mythical creatures." I answer robotically. It's basically my mantra at this point.

She chuckles a little.

"So what else should I know?" Glen and I exchange glances blankly.

He shrugs.

I shrug.

"Don't piss me off." He tells her before flashing a wolfish grin.

He rushes forward, hooking his arm around my waist, and zooms us both out the window.

XXX

"Put me down! Put me down put me down! I hate it when you do this! Glenwood!" I screech as he darts from branch to branch like an acrobat, one arm still hooked around my waist.

"Oh, you know you love it. You just refuse to admit it because you're disagreeable." He mutters, not out of breath in the least.

"Glen. Wood."

"Fine." He murmurs, crouching lithely on a branch that can't possibly hold our combined weight.

He leaps down to the ground, soaring really, touching feet first and still with an iron grip around my waist.

As soon as my own feet are on terra firma he lets me go, knowing me well.

Unfortunately, due to the dizzying height I haven't quite adjusted.

I feel my legs wobble underneath me, watch the whole landscape tilt to the side as I teeter to and fro, my arms waving out behind me in a vain attempt to steady myself.

"Whoa, there. Steady now." He says, quickly grabbing my waist and holding me still.

"You sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine. It's fine." I press a cool palm to my forehead, pushing my sense of gravity back into my skull.

"So yesterday, you were saying about…um…the…the wolf…"

"The moping werewolf?"

"Yes."

"I do not understand why he's sad. I don't like it." He frowns, absently twirling a lock of my hazel hair around a finger.

I feel a wave of warmth wash through his body, a ripple of humanity changing him to the golden skinned man and back again.

"Maybe it's a puppy love thing!" I offer, smiling.

"Maybe." He answers simply, uncurling the lock from his finger and playing with the ends of my hair harmlessly.

"…that was a joke."

"It's a possibility. They imprint." He answers, still toying with my loose waves.

"So? You-" His eyes shoot up to meet mine.

"That's not the same thing."

"Well, who is it that is…moping so profusely?"

"He's not moping, exactly. Just…less than delighted."

"Again, 'who' called the owl." I snort, rubbing my dry lips together. I'm sure it's not necessary to iterate the pain of chapped lips. How the quickest solution to end the dull stinging is to lick your lips, even though that only makes it worse later.

And then you start to think about how refreshing chapstick would be and because of that you feel even more chapped and the cruel, horrible, stinging, evil cycle continues!

"Black, I think. Jacob Black. Has this…potential mope air about him. Like-"

"Something is being dangled in front of him and he can't have it and you're worried it's got something to do with vampires?" He nods.

"Worried that they…that…you remember when the vampires left?"

"I remember you being happy about it then sad about it." He chuckles.

"I believe it has something to do with the vampire girl." I groan.

"No kidding." I mutter, rubbing my sore lips together, wincing.

"Your lips hurt?"

"Yeah. I should probably by chapstick, but we both know I'm never going to get around to it." I grin.

"I could fix it for you." He offers earnestly.

I stare at him.

"No."

"Why not?" He stares at me, disbelieving.

Oh, how does one go about explaining this?

"Because – it's, well, it's like the tree equivalent of…of…I don't know what the tree equivalent of kissing is! But it's kissing, Glen!"

"So? It's to help you."

"I'd rather just buy the chapstick."

"This is much simpler."

"You're really going to make this into an issue?"

He smiles and shakes his head sadly, releasing my strands of hair and stepping away.

"And to think. You're the constant in my life."

A/N: …I have nothing to say. For some reason I get the gut feeling that this chapter will be received badly.

THINK HAPPY THOUGHTS.

Reviews feed my plot bunnies.

Other note: My life is governed by sarcasm. Take nothing I say seriously.

Nit, OUT. Hee.