Ok. Sorry about the wait. I've rewritten Garrett's POV at least a dozen times, and I'm finally pleased with the result. Thanks for your patience. Life was crazy and I didn't get a chance to personally thank everyone who was kind enough to review the last chapter. Thank you everyone!

FYI—This particular chapter takes this story from mere plot deviation to AU.

I've twisted the canon Quileute legends around another legend that is completely my brainchild.

No disrespect was intended to the tribe or their actual histories by conjuring up this story.

Just fan fiction folks.

"And if we burn, you burn with us."

― Suzanne Collins, Mockingjay. ―

*Twilight is the sole property of SM.*

Chapter 10-Medium Ground

Peter

"There's no time," I boomed, "Without my venom, she won't live more than a couple of minutes, and that's not a sure-fire thing. It tenuous at best."

"Dying or not, it's against the Treaty…against our very nature to allow you to bite a human. We'll have no choice but to destroy her and any one of you who stand in our way," the man at girl's side snapped. He looked down into those soulful, brown eyes with both pity and resolve, steelin' himself to watch the tiny human slip away just for principal.

Heartless bastard!

Char grabbed my bicep and squeezed, keeping her eyes locked on the woman-child slowly bleeding to death mere meters away. "Pete!" she whimpered, "You have 'ta step in. You can't let 'er die. Garrett'll go off the fuckin' rails."

I patted my wife's hand, empathizing with pain. From the moment we had first stepped into the clearing, we felt the beginnings of a familial bond. It had wound itself tightly around the both of us like a vice-grip, akin to the intensity of a mating pull. It wasn't a foreign feelin', whatsoever. We shared the same sort of familial bond with both the Major and Garrett, and if any of them were to perish, it would leave a hole in all our hearts as wide as a country mile.

I cupped her chin and tilted it upwards, watching the sadness cloud her features. "Sweetness, the Major was always the one creatin' vampires. I helped him train but I never had the control to create 'um. What if I fail?"

My beautiful wife squeezed my hand, and spoke softly, "I believe in you, darlin'."

I ripped my eyes from her lovely face and snapped, completely pissed off by the wolf's audacious warning. The fuckers weren't a threat to us, in any way. The Major, Garrett, and I could wipe their goddamned species off the map so fast it'd slap their ancestors silly. "Goddamn it, hand the girl over, now! If you allow her to fuckin' die, our entire coven will massacre your whole village without remorse. Use your heads!"

The man growled and pulled her into his lap, wrapping his big, malodorous arms around her body, which began to convulse in shock. I narrowed my eyes and focused on the girl, watching as her porcelain skin turned from a soft pink to ashen grey. By the look of it, the child did not have a lot of time left, and the situation was delicate…she was delicate. It seemed knowing shit hadn't been at all helpful. For the first time since I awoke from the venom, I wasn't sure that this particular hunch would come to fruition. And that scared the fuckin' hell outta me.

"Jesus, Sam! I fucking jumped the gun! I did this to her! Bend the damned rules just this once! Fuck the treaty and think of the village…the Elders! What about Bella?" another man snapped, dropping to his knees beside the girl's head and stroked her hair.

"If you allow him to change her, this leech lover and her lackeys will murder the townsfolk and the village. That's too much of a risk, Sam. We might end up with bloodsuckers on our land!" the bitch mutt hollered. Sam snapped an order at the woman, rendering her speechless with one sound. Impressive! I thought.

"Enough!" I boomed, stalking toward the mutt who held Garrett's mate and socking him so hard in the head that I rendered the fucker unconscious.

The wolves began to tremble all around us. I watched in fascination as the human's bodies convulsed—ripping clothes and lengthening muscles—gasping in awe as they exploded into their animal forms. I crouched low and swung Char behind by back, instinctively attempting to shield my mate from harm, even though I knew that she was fully capable of protecting herself. I took a quick comprehensive look over my shoulder and smiled as Char darted toward the girl and sunk her teeth into her throat and each limb right before her heart stopped beating.

Fuck! All hell is gonna break loose. I'm a dead man!

Bella

Death was so very peaceful…a painless conclusion to the agony that had been inflicted on my tiny, breakable body. My mortal shell was mediocre in comparison to the eight supernatural bodies that had inhabited the small clearing. Painlessly my unfettered psyche drifted off into peaceful oblivion. The throbbing in my chest had all but dissipated from my body and for that, I was so terribly thankful for the reprieve.

Irrationally, I had hoped that the flaxen-haired duo, which had dismembered the evil siblings with valor and finesse, had shown up merely to save my life. Were they nomads with a secret vendetta against the evil preteens? After the evil twins had enjoyed my blood, Paul had unintentionally flayed me open like a butchered animal, likely spilling the remainder of my vital liquid into the porous ground. Had the crimson liquid simply triggered a feral response…a possessive want? After all, Jasper had lost control with a simple paper cut. Rationally, I believed the latter to be the more likely explanation. My wounds were grievous, far too severe to overcome without supernatural assistance.

Thankfully, I hadn't been the only one to perish in that large clearing. I was pleased that I had witnessed Victoria's demise before the darkness had overtaken me. However pleased I was to know she had burned for her crimes, I still lost in the end. The crazy bitch accomplished her mission. A mate for a mate, she had touted so vehemently. The fact that Edward was not said mate was beside the point. The fiery vampiress' goal had obliterated any speck of happiness that I might've gained following James' death. James— the asshole who had stalked me across four States and fifteen hundred miles for sport, had been avenged. Unfortunately, she was released of her misery, but in the process, she had knowingly left my mate and me in similar states.

What would become of my Garrett in my absence?

I gnashed my teeth together, secretly hoping the two of them enjoyed Hell.

I lay unmoving for an immeasurable amount of time before a bright light filtered through my lashes. It illuminated the fathomless expanse that lingered behind my eyelids, making it almost difficult to ignore. I blinked several times and cautiously opened my eyes, momentarily blinded by the radiant rays of the sunlight that filtered through a canopy of trees. I marveled at the sky. It was the most brilliant shade of blue—crystal clear and cloud free. My eyes continued their journey of exploration and drank in my surroundings, reveling in the brilliant shades of emerald, coffee, and amethyst that tinted every stationary surface around me.

Without a doubt, I knew I was in Edward's meadow, even before I rose from the damp ground. As always, the soul of the forest pulsed around me, alive and teeming with life. Its essence was almost tangible, electrifying every cell in my body. I jumped to my feet and twirled around in a circle, sighing at the irony of my new setting. The circular clearing was just as stunning as the first moment I glimpsed it all those months ago, though it held little magic for me now. Perhaps a week ago, I would've been pleased to have found myself here in my last moments. Now, anywhere without Garrett was a veritable hell on earth—my own personal purgatory. My only solace was familiarity. The space had always enveloped me with a sense of peace, and even alone, I supposed the surroundings could've been worse.

A movement in my peripheral vision caught my attention and I spun on my heel, gasping at the person who graced the lovely space. My Grandma Marie was bathed in large shaft of sunlight just on this side of the outcropping of trees. I was ninety-nine percent sure this wasn't a dream. While this situation seemed to be a carbon copy of the one prior, this time, she wasn't mimicking my movements. In this reality, she was sauntering across the meadow.

"Isabella," she cooed, holding her arms out wide. The old woman hadn't changed one bit in the seven years since her death. Her soft and withered cheeks pulled up in a lovely smile, slightly accentuating the thousands of tiny wrinkles in her skin. "Come to me child. Let me look at you my big girl!"

My mouth pulled up into an involuntary smile the instant my name left her wizened lips. I sighed loudly and ghosted across the circular field, through tall grass and lovely flowers, towards my grandmother. I practically jumped into her arms and curled against her chest.

"Oh, Gran! I've never missed anyone so desperately," I breathed, enveloped by the same familiar scent of lemons and sage that I associated with her being. I pulled away slightly to look into her memorable face, smiling broadly as I tousled the puff of grey hair at the crown of her head. She was a sight for sore eyes. "Where's Pop, Gran? Is he here somewhere? Will we all be together?"

My grandmother Marie pulled out of my embrace and grabbed me by the hand, pulling us down into a patch of lush grass. She raised her withered hand and rubbed her thumb across my cheek, murmuring soothing words like when I had been a child. I leaned against her fingers, comforted by her touch.

"Pop isn't here. He crossed over. This is just the first stop in death's journey. Bella. A waiting room, so to speak. This is simply your paradise on earth, or at least it was. Your soul rests in limbo until you cross over, or until you've accomplished what you've set out to do in your life. I've been waiting for you here since the day I died. I thought I was in for the long haul. You were always such a sensible girl, but considering the company you keep nowadays, I'm quite surprised I didn't see you sooner."

"Ooh, Gran," I sighed. "You know, don't you? You know of the supernatural world?"

She closed her eyes and shook her head slightly, chuckling without humor "My sweet Bella," she cooed, gazing down at her lap where she was twisting her tiny hands nervously. "I didn't want this for you. The dead are naturally drawn to our kind, vampires, in particular—"

I cut her off. "Our kind? What? We're human, Gran. And if we aren't, why are we dead?"

She raised her head and chuckled. "We're not immortal, Bella, merely talented humans with a flair for viewing the dead. Vampires aren't the only supernatural beings in this strange world. You should know that by now, child."

"Jacob... the wolves," I whispered.

"Yes. The wolves. They were your destiny."

My eyes opened wide, mouth agape. "Are you telling me Jacob Black was my future?" I practically screamed. Jumping to my feet, I paced the area, grasping my hair in my fists, practically hyperventilating. "Gran, I didn't love Jacob! How can the wolves be my destiny? That's like incest. Eww. No way, Gran. I love Garrett!"

"Sit down child!" she admonished. I quickly did as I had been asked, flopping down hard on the ground, still confused. "Calm down. I wasn't insinuating that you were destined to love or even marry any of the Quileutes. Yet, you and the tribe are intertwined, regardless. Ugh! Your mother has done you a great disservice by straying from our abilities. Forget the Quileutes. For now, at least. I'll come back to them shortly.

"Bella, the women in our lineage, our family, have all been Mediums. We've been deemed witches or shamans. Our kind has been persecuted for our power, ridiculed by disbelievers, even burned at the stake. The unknown aspects of this life will always trouble the mortals. I know it distressed your mother greatly. Renee had always been a free spirit and refused to embrace my teaching, closing herself off to both her potential and her destiny. Without that latent portion of her being, she was never content…with you, your father, or any of her endeavor she involved herself with. I've always believed the spirits punished her. I'm truly sorry for not grooming you for the role before I died. You just weren't old enough to comprehend the scope of your power. I thought I had more time. Life is fleeting, that's for sure. You never know the time or the place. Perhaps had you been warned…" She shook her head "No, if you were anything like your poor free-spirited mother, you would've still jumped head first into the world of vampires, especially after meeting that Cullen boy."

I ignored the vampire jab and grabbed her by the arms, shaking her slightly while simultaneously wondering if my Grandmother had gone a bit senile. Can someone become gaga in the afterlife? "Gran? You're telling me I'm a Medium? As in reading palms, talking to the dead, and shit like that? That's just plain weird. An even crazier thought is that you believe Renee capable of anything remotely related to the supernatural. She can't even keep a checkbook!"

Her tiny, withered hand swiftly connected with the back of my head. I yelped, shying away from her hand. "Watch your mouth, young lady!"

Nothing like getting my ass handed to my by the spirit of my dead Grandmother.

Rubbing my head, I nodded, smiling softly at the gesture. Even though I hadn't wanted to admit it, Gran was right. I definitely wouldn't have listened to my mother if she had tried to dissuade me from befriending the Cullens, let alone Billy or Jacob who truly understood the perils of the vampire world. Renee was a child housed in a woman's body. She hadn't ever been capable of running a household or raising a child, let alone wielding the power of the dead. It had been selfish of her to ignore that underlying portion of her spirit. If the power and the Quileutes were indeed my destiny, I only wished I would've known about it years ago, instead of on my deathbed or the hereafter—hell, wherever the fuck we were.

I was blindsided by the supernatural world, intrigued and enthralled by their beauty and grace, and I had fallen for their wiles. Edward Cullen had doted on me and played upon my insecurities, and within minutes had me 'hook, line and sinker' with that crooked smile and dazzling ocher eyes. Obviously, I had craved attention so desperately that my godlike Adonis's unnatural obsession felt like love. I had deluded myself into believing my "good" vampires would never hurt me. How very naïve I had been back then. They had done far worse than physically wound me. They had exposed me to dangerous forces and factions that I had no way of defending myself against, ultimately resulting in my demise.

Nevertheless, I couldn't hate him. How can I hate someone who brought me my true love?

Oh, my sweet Garrett, how I will miss you. The thought of never laying my eyes on my mate again caused the pain in my chest to flair slightly. Our short time together had been the pinnacle of my young life, and I would always lament his loss.

"Real Mediums don't rely on such monkey business. True users can view and commune the deceased. We are also able to repel or compel spirits to do our bidding, calm the living and the dead. A master can even pull the living and the dead into a trance—a dreamlike state—you've done it yourself momentarily. This is why I've sought you out in this place" —She motioned around the meadow— "My knowledge of the spirit world isn't something I can teach you in an afternoon, and you'll need this ability in the future, if you hope to survive. So, you'll have to learn to use it on your own and teach young Quil the art."

"Quil Ateara? The werewolf, Quil?"

Gran nodded and smiled. "One in the same, my Bella. I gifted the elder Quil the ability to commune with his ancestors, and Renee was to gift his grandson the ability. Since she stepped away from her duty, now that honor falls to you. That's your unfinished business, amongst many other things. You'll play a large part in things to come. Mediums aren't meant to become vampires. Not that it's impossible, just we're meant to pass the trait down through our lineage."

My mouth was as dry as the desert, my mind reeling with the extreme influx of information. The things that had come out the old woman's mouth were inconceivable to my rational mind. However, if vampires and werewolves existed, so must ghosts, mediums, and I don't know—witches, I supposed. Mentally exhausted, I flopped down in a soft patch of amethyst flowers and sucked in a deep breath, drowning under the weight of her anxiety. "Why didn't Renee tell me, Gran? If it were so important that I teach the Quileutes about the spirits, why wasn't I told about it?"

The words that left my Gran's wizened lips were as soft as feathers, "She wanted you to have a normal life, I think."

"No wonder old Quil hated me so much. I sided with the vampires, after all," I mused, raking my hand over my face. "What will the tribe do now? Will communing with the spirits just flit away into the legends? Billy Black spoke of Taha Aki and the spirit wolves, why didn't he speak of our involvement?"

Gran lied back in the grass beside me and spoke thoughtfully, "The power was always meant to stay in the tribe ancestry, but at some point in time, they lost that ability. I don't know the histories very clearly. Outsiders aren't privy to those things. You must ask Old Quil that question."

I sat up quickly. "I'm dead Gran! Dead as in not alive. I can't ask him anything!" I screamed, my chest tightening at my acceptance. I snaked my arm around my stomach and doubled over on myself, willing the tears to stay behind my lashes.

She raised her eyebrows, smiling broadly. How can the old bat smile at a time like this? Senility had definitely occurred in the afterlife. "You don't have to stay that way. I have a plan. Just cross your fingers that it'll work!"

"How?" I uttered incredulously. How do you come back from the dead?

"You let me worry about that. Old Quil and I are due for a reunion," she stated, pulling herself to her feet and sprinting off toward the trees.

Damn! Who knew the old woman could move so fast!

Somehow, I was certain whatever she was after, that Old Quil couldn't bring anyone back from the dead.

Garrett

For a creature born of darkness, I found it only fitting that God would've punished me in such a manner. Her radiance had counteracted the darkness for a short, blissful moment, before my unpardonable sins had negated any and all happiness. Obviously, such virtue and innocence was never meant to exist in my world. The Almighty had saw fit to remind me of my despicable nature by painfully snatching the last remaining vestiges of my humanity from my unwilling fingers.

The old saying stated 'pride cometh before a fall'. I truly empathized with that statement, having experienced it directly. One could never truly understand the meaning unless they'd lived that nightmare firsthand. Loss had been my constant companion throughout this life, unwavering and predictable. I had once doled out pain to compensate for the bone-crushing grief that I experienced on a daily basis. Now that I'd experienced the light, I hardly wanted to return to the overwhelming starkness of a lonely existence. I refused to fall back in line. Only this time the stakes were elevated, and the risks were extraordinarily immense.

My mate was pure of heart and soul, compassionate and unselfish, untainted by my sins. Yet, my brunette beauty had cherished and accepted me with everything she was, regardless of my sordid past. She had made my soul whole. The way she had wrapped her arms around me and cried out my name in ecstasy had quite literally brought me to my knees. Isabella was the center of my universe and her absence was stifling. It felt as though I couldn't breathe without her in my arms.

My Bella was human, vulnerable, and breakable, but her spirit was akin to warrior's in strength. That woman had fought until her last breath for the people she cared about—even for Jacob, to my dismay. Of those truths, I had little doubt, and because of her association with the supernatural, vampires, she fought a war she couldn't possibly win.

Edward had brought her into the shadows and exposed her to horrors no human should've been a party to, flaunting her existence to the cold-hearted bastards who would likely return and collect their prize. Aro and Caius weren't benevolent leaders who considered situational sins and allowed wrongdoers to gleefully skip out of the castle with the promise of compliance. They demanded conformity, expected it. I believed they were only bidding their time, waiting for an appropriate moment to strike.

It had been wholly unintelligent for me to turn my back on her, irrational to have allowed the volatile wolf-child to bate me. Yet, when he'd handled my mate with disrespect, my better judgment had flitted away like ash dancing off a fire, and I acted purely on instinct. Jacob had felt disgruntled by Isabella's unrequited love, angered and disgusted by her choice of mate, or moreover, her choice of species. He was merely a child, after all, mentally immature for his stature. Foolishly, I had set a bad example by stooping to his level. The boy's jealously and my overly protective nature incited a battle between the two of us. Fury washed over the lot of us like angry ocean waves, pulling us deep under the tumultuous water, and when we resurfaced, we realized just how reckless our actions had truly been.

My beautiful mate had slipped through my fingers like water through a sieve, ripped from my arms prematurely. One moment she had been there and the next moment she had vanished. The only proof of her existence was the unique fragrance that clung faintly in the air, intermingled with another more sinister aroma.

Victoria.

*~~*RB*~~*

Life was designed to be a series of choices. Some were beneficial, destined paths, while others were pointlessly flawed and seemed to have served no purpose. Yet, when the sun set each day, the path we had chosen , the time to change their course had long since bled into the night. Good or bad, each path is unique, molding them into the person that they were destined to become. Self discovery. Self worth. Self harm. Those choices could inevitably cost a person their lives and the lives of those we so cherished. Poor Bella would've been required to learn that lesson the hard way.

Victoria. I had met the cold-hearted bitch only once, but one time had been enough. The fiery woman, her tracker mate, and Mr. Dreadlocks were malicious creatures who enjoyed toying with and torturing their prey, all sadistically dangerous and psychotic. Being nomadic, the four of us were bound to have crossed paths, eventually. After all, eternity was a very long time to wander the Earth, in which time I had met some spectacular vampires—Carlisle for instance. But that particular coven wasn't one I wished to encounter again. Hell, I would've rather shacked up with the British! So many regrets in life. If I had known then what I know now, I would've roasted the she-devil and her mate piece by glorious piece, reveling in satisfaction.

I roared at the odoriferous mutt, Jacob, and clocked him in the snout, chucking him over my shoulder in attempt to follow my mate. I barreled through the remaining dogs and sprinted toward the trees—racing against the clock—quickly followed by my vampire brothers and the angry wolves. Just this side of the forest, a blond vampire stepped out of the trees, flanked by six feral looking vampires.

Newborns. For real? Weren't these assholes supposed to be tearin' up Seattle? Where's that fucker, Peter, anyway? He said he'd be here! Always late!

The six of us slid to a halt and quickly dipped into matching defensive poses before the encroaching hoard. Menacing snarls echoed through the darkness, dampening the surrounding air with a heavy dread. Jasper and I shared a knowing glance, silently calculating the best strategy to annihilate the vampires before us. I studied the older vampire scrupulously, attempting to get a feel for his leadership style. The man was in his early twenties when he was turned, muscular and tall with a smug smile etched across his lips. He held out his hand toward his six companions, who were still several paces behind him, rigid and aching to tear into our flesh, and motioned them to follow him. The blond sauntered across the lawn with a cat-like stride, arrogant and suave as though they owned the place. I was already sick of his face.

"Well. Well. Well. What do we have here?" the unfamiliar vampire purred. "You idiots were so focused on jealously and revenge, that you allowed my Mistress, Victoria, to abscond with your sweet little Bella—such a succulent little morsel, that one. When you laid her naked flesh out against that tree, I had trouble not strokin' my cock and keeping a level head. It was all I could do to refrain from touching that perfect porcelain skin when you were scurrying around the area, looking for her clothes. It is really too bad that my Mistress plans on tearin' her limb from limb and basking in her blood. She probably tastes as good as she smells!"

I growled and stupidly lunged forward, oblivious to the dangers at hand. He had spoke ill of my mate, threatened her, and that infuriated me to no end. It was out of character for me, throwing all rational thought out the window. Without my Isabella, I was out of control, almost as irrepressible as his tiny band of newborns. The blond leader snickered at my blunder, his arrogance setting me off, blanketing the entire area in a crimson fog—bloodlust. The Major took off behind me and snatched me by the arm. Then, he yanked me against his chest and snaked his forearm tightly around my throat, baring his teeth when I struggled.

"Focus Corporal! He's baiting you. If you run in there blind, you'll be busier than a one-armed monkey with two peckers. You'd be dead before Emmett and I could fight our way to ya'. Even I'm not that good. For some reason, I can't feel any of their emotional signatures. One of these soldiers has a gift, a very powerful gift to render my own useless. Even without my empathy, I'm bettin' the farm that he's got him more troops hidden somewhere in those trees. It's what I woulda done," the Major growled in my ear. "That red-headed twat was a terrible Warlord, but unfortunately, she wasn't a complete idiot. She most definitely sent that fucker with reserves. The carnage wielded in Seattle testifies to that theory. The wench wanted to obliterate all those who played a part in her Mate's death, Bella included. We're balancing on a precarious edge, Soldier. We need to strategize…wait for backup!"

I knew he was right, and I hated myself for risking everything with my lack of common sense.

The blond leader threw his head and guffawed. "Ooh, a bit of dissension in the ranks, I see. I fucking love it. It makes this all that much more exciting. And yes, I do have a gift. I can render a whole army and myself invisible to all psychological gifts and shield my scent. My Mistress didn't find me very useful, at first, but once I had harnessed my gift, I garnered her affection. She said as soon as I kill the lot of you, she will make me her mate. Then, Victoria and I will have all of Seattle to ourselves. Your reign of the Northwest will cease to exist!"

The Major released me and tucked his arms behind his back, dipping into a crouch and growled. "Impotent child! Victoria loves no one. She wouldn't have left you to fend for yourselves if she believed otherwise. You'll not see her again. All lies! You leader hasn't created you to obtain power, but to destroy the very people who killed her mate. Boy, you're nothing but fodder."

The boy growled at the Major's insinuation. Hmmm. Struck a nerve.

All of us, wolves included, regrouped in a front lined formation, mirroring Jasper's defensive pose. We were quickly joined by the remainder of the Cullens, sans Alice, who had apparently snuck up the driveway to field off the humans. A town massacre was all we needed. The Volturi would've had a field day with that disaster. I glanced over my shoulder just in time to witness the detached garage go up in flames.

Clever cover, little pixie. That'll keep the humans at bay for a few extra minutes.

"Damn you, Alice!" Rosalie hissed under her breath. "My favorite car was in there!"

Both the Major and I growled at the blonde woman's meaningless concerns, such triviality was asinine under the circumstance and she knew it. Motorized vehicles could be replaced, but her family or mate could not. And what she'd yet to realize, was that my mate was in the hands of a psychopath. Her life or death depended upon how fast I could plow my way through the awaiting horde.

Jasper whipped his head to the side and addressed the family and wolves firmly and decisively, "Don't let 'um get their hands 'round you. They'll crush you in a nanosecond. And don't go for the obvious kill, Emmett. No frontward attacks, they'll be expecting that."

The Major looked upon his parental figures and quickly continued, "Esme, Carlisle start us a fire. We take no prisoners tonight."

Murmurs rippled through the group like a stone tossed into calm waters, rippling quickly through the nervous family. Before the Major could utter another word, the leader motioned to his army, and twenty more newborns slunk out of the darkness, sprinting across the lawn, snarling and snapping at us like rabid dogs. Growls and high-pitched metallic keening echoed across the lawn, as I connected with my first victim. All sense of rationality left my physical body as the blood lust washed over me like a tumultuous storm, seeping into my body like a porous sponge. The emotions ate at me like piranhas and left nothing but a feral vampire in its place. Garrett Dennison was like Elvis, he'd left the building the moment venom had touched his lips.

I sunk my teeth into anything remotely close to my body, ferociously clawing and tearing the faceless beings to sheds in my wrath. In my peripheral vision, I observed a new, smaller wolf break from the trees and flank me. The large, sinuous creature moved with me like a second skin, each watching the other's back, as the two of us sliced through the crowd like a knife through warm butter. A pang of regret tore at my center as we left the small family behind to fight the horde. However, that sorrow quickly ebbed away as my chest flared with my mate's pain and fear, nearly doubling me over with its intensity.

"Isabella, I'm coming. Just hang on for me, baby," I lamented softly, venom stinging my eyes and sorrow twisting my gut into liquid sludge.

I roared with anger and dug deep inside, willing my legs to move faster that they'd ever moved before— each step like fire in my veins. The beast mirrored my anger and howled at the sky, a mournful keening that drowned my psyche with additional misery. My companion and I followed Victoria's cloying scent like two bloodhounds, winding through the forest like large serpents. The ever-darkening landscape blurred past my eyes— wolf and monster slogging through overly soggy landscape.

As the dark wolf and I dashed through the underbrush, we were waylaid by the distinct cloying perfume of burning vampire, and that alone told us that we were heading into dangerous territory. We hastened our trek and pushed through the trees with fervor. I sucked in a large, unnecessary breath and released it when I viewed a break in the trees, thankful to be at the end of my journey.

But what I saw when I entered the clearing, was the most ghastly and heartbreaking thing I had ever witnessed in the nearly two and a half centuries on this planet. I collapsed in a heap and screamed toward the heavens.

Old Quil Ateara

Old Quil had situated himself in a tent just outside the village. Dressed in only breechcloths, he settled beside the roaring fire and began to meditate, hoping to commune with his ancestors about the dangers befalling the village. For hours, he chanted and sang in his native language, attempting to contact the spirits. They had never failed to answer his call, and he was riddled with anxiety about the reasoning for their absence.

The old man knew that he had little time left on this earth, and he worried for the future of his tribe. It was the destiny of his grandson, young Quil, to carry on with tradition. Yet the young Swan girl was clearly without the aptitude. Or perhaps, she was merely unwillingly to teach him the art. He hadn't known and that troubled him greatly. He had attributed the teen's shortcoming to the cold one's influence, for their kind corrupted all those they associated themselves with, keeping her from her true destiny. Without the ability to contact the spirits, the tribe was apt to fall into an unprecedented state.

He continued to call the spirits, thinking of the histories as he breathed in the smoke from the fire. Not since the death of the third wife had their people been without a gifted shaman, and that was a very dark time in their history. The spirits had gifted her womb and the descendants thereof the ability to commune with the ancestor, but sadly, when she sacrificed herself to save her husband and son, the magic died with her.

Ten years had passed before the Quileute tribe had been gifted another whose power would grant them the ability to once again communicate with the dead. The child, Ekaterina, was kidnapped from a neighboring village during a raid. The warrior had hoped to gift the Chief a concubine or slave to garner the leader's favor and his daughter's hand. He accepted the gift but refused to grant his daughter in her stead. After all, the child was an outsider, hardly as valuable as his own child had been. The Chieftain kept the youngster her under his roof and gifted her to his youngest daughter for a playmate and later a handmaiden, for he had no want for her in that regard.

Ekaterina (later renamed 'Golden Bird'), was a rare beauty among her kind: skin as pale as the snow in winter and hair the color of corn silk. She was ten or twelve summers old, not yet a woman, when she arrived at the village. It was quickly apparent that she had been with her captors for some time, given that she had a basic knowledge of the native language. Golden Bird hadn't been afraid of the villagers and took to the Chief's family immediately, happy to have been accepted, even amongst strangers. When asked of her parents, the fair-haired beauty had said she washed ashore as the result of a shipwreck, and her family had perished in the waters.

When the young woman came of age, the eldest son fell in love with her and wished to make Golden Bird his wife, but that enraged the Elders. Quileute men were forbidden to mate with outsiders, especially pale faces like this woman. They had deemed her worthy of only two things when she had been taken: a concubine or a slave. Broken-hearted, the eldest son had wedded another, and the young, white woman remained with the chief as his daughter's handmaiden. The Chief loved her regardless of her skin color, and vowed that she would stay under his care until the day his ancestors called him home.

One day, while gathering water for her mistress, a man from the tribe rode by on his horse and glimpsed her bathing in the water. He coveted Golden Bird, wishing to quell his lust filled desires with her body. He dismounted from the animal, stalked toward the girl, and threw her to the ground, quickly divesting her of her clothing. The fair-haired woman screamed out in horror and began chanting in her native tongue. The man was caught off guard when the spirit of a great bear appeared before him, knocking him away from the lovely woman and breaking his arm. The horse was spooked by the beast and galloped away, leaving the girl and her would-be rapist alone together. The girl spoke to the beast like a trained dog and commanded the spirit to scar the man's face so no woman would ever want to lay with him again out of disgust.

When Golden Bird hadn't returned from the river, the Chieftain's wife commanded her third eldest son to fetch the girl, fearing for her safely and her virtue. Marriage material or not, the woman was lovely and men would've felt the need to bed her, willingly or not. The woman's son showed up at the water just in time to watch his sister, for all intents and purpose, command the great animal to strike out at the man. Blood sprayed across the ground as the spirit bear's claws tore into his flesh. The brother cried out to the girl, bringing her out of her trance. The spirit evaporated away in a great mist and the color left his sister's face, becoming paler than her native skin, and the girl collapsed on the ground.

The Chieftain's son brought the girl and the injured man to the Elders and told the story of her feat. At first, the old men hadn't believed the outrageous tale. Commanding the spirits wasn't a trait of a white woman. That power was strictly born of their tribe. However, when the injured man awoke, wound free, but scarred, he collaborated with the son's story. The Elders had little choice but the tale as truth. The old ones beseeched the young woman to teach the Medicine Man's son her secrets, as he was not long for the physical world, and he feared leaving the tribe without the ancestors to guide them. But Golden Bird adamantly refused. The woman was angered that they had denied her marriage to the Chief's eldest son, for she had loved him just a fiercely as he had loved her.

Several years passed and the Medicine Man became very ill and called the white woman to his side, once again beseeching her to impart her knowledge to the tribe. Over the years since she had commanded the great bear, she had grown fond of the Chieftain's third son and he her. Golden Bird agreed to gift the Shaman's son her power in exchange for the Chieftain's son. With his last breath, and the blessing of the Elders, the tribe accepted the woman into the fold.

Golden Bird bore many children during her lifetime, and her direct descendants continued to impart their knowledge of the spirits to the tribe up until several generations prior to Ephraim Black, when the white man's disease killed most of their village. Among the dead was the Shaman. Once again, death had stripped the Quileute tribe of their connection to the spirit world. The survivors had lamented the loss greatly until the spirit wolves came upon good fortune of four orphaned children. One of whom was Isabella Swan's great, great-grandmother, Mera.

The old man was roused from his reverie by the distinct presence of a spirit tickling the back of his brain. He implored the spirit to show himself, desperate to converse with his people. A wave of power surged over him and wafted through the small tent like a tiny dust devil, fanning the flames. With his eyes still closed, he felt the presence of the spirit in and around him, stifling him with its intensity. The old man was terribly frightened by this visitor, because the weight of his ancestors had never weighted down his psyche such as this spirit had done.

"Old Quil," the spirit woman's voice echoed. When he hadn't answered immediately, her voice became shrill and resonant. "Open your eyes, you ole' fart and look at me!"

The old man chuckled loudly. That woman had always known exactly how to ruffle his feathers, so to speak. Only she would've addressed him in such a manner. He would've remembered that voice 'till the day he died, and long after, for he had adored that woman since he was fifteen. His eyes flew open of their own accord and he gasped at the sight of his first love, Marie, sitting before him. A pain sprouted in his chest, a deep twinge of loss. The Elder was shocked that the Swan girl or her father hadn't mentioned her passing, or perhaps they had, his memory was failing him, as of late. It hardly mattered, she was here, and that had made him blissfully happy.

"Marie," he breathed, soft as the passing breeze. "Oh, Marie! You've come back to me. Oh, how I missed you."

"Quil Ateara, my oldest and dearest friend, I've come to ask of your help," she pleaded earnestly.

"Anything," he promised. And he meant it.

Marie closed her eyes and sighed, tears rolling down her face. Oh, how the old man wished he could've wiped the agony away. "Isabella has been killed by one of your spirit wolves while in battle. I believe she is of great importance to your people. I've come to plead for you to perform the healing ceremony and bring her spirit back to her body. Her destiny has yet to be fulfilled."

Quil jumped to his feet and paced the tent, hands clenched at his side and heart pounding like a freight train. "You understand what you're asking of me? Marie have you lost your mind? Spirits alive, woman! While I don't discount her importance, she isn't of Quileute decent. You're asking me to disregard our very way of life for someone outside of our lineage. As sad as her death is, this was her path. She chose it willingly and with her eyes wide open."

Marie smiled at her friend. She had always loved him so much, but their destinies had laid elsewhere. The old woman knew the weight of her appeal, and she only hoped he still adored her enough to listen to reason. "I believe this is your destiny, Quil. Perhaps, this is what you were created to do? The tribe will tell this story forever. You're just conceded enough to enjoy that, I think."

Old Quil shook his head and knelt before her, smiling softly. Marie had always been such an infuriating woman. She had the propensity to press every button until she had what she wanted. Now, she had asked him to perform the impossible. "We've found others over the centuries. We can find another. It's not that I'm unable to perform the ceremony, per say, just that her spirit is where is meant to be. A person is born, lives, and dies when they are destined to do so. That's why I was so disgusted when she involved herself with the vampires. I knew it wouldn't end well for that child. Marie, it was just so unnatural!"

"Always treading the line," she sighed, shaking her head at her friend. No matter the price he had paid, her old lover still clung to the old ways.

She understood what Bella had done was wrong. Had Marie still been alive, she could've saved the girl from seeking the comfort of vampires, consequently preventing her premature death at their hands. But that was a mute point, as she had died, and sadly so had her granddaughter. What she had known, without a shadow of a doubt, was that Bella needed to live, regardless of the consequences. Her Bella was a very charismatic and determined person when she set her mind to something, and she knew that the girl had the ability to wield that power over the supernatural world, as well as the human one. The only problem laid in convincing her friend to break with tradition, especially once he found out Bella had vampire venom in her system, as Quil had always been so adamant to adhere to the ways of his people. His prejudices against the vampires had always run deeply.

"Yes, as much as I agree with your stance on the vampires, I must also tell you that she will become one if you were to heal her body. She had venom in her system before her heart stopped beating."

Old Quil sank to his knees, trembling with a mixture of anger and sadness. He felt sick to his stomach. The old woman hadn't a clue what she asked of him. Asking him to disregard an eternity of beliefs was unconscionable, dangerous even, especially when it involved the natural progression of life and our enemies. "Marie, why would you want me to damn a child, your granddaughter's soul, to an eternity of torment and pure evil? They aren't even alive. They feed off the life force of the living. You've heard the histories of the spirit wolves and the magic behind the legends. It's the reason why our young ones sacrificed themselves to try to prevent this tragedy. They tried to save her from herself. Asking me to heal her body, only to have her join the throngs of our enemies, is like asking me not to breathe air. I always took you for a smart woman.

"As irrational as my request is, I do understand what it is I ask. I have walked by her side, always watching over her, since my death, and it sickens me to ask you to disregard what you hold dear to your heart, and the hearts of your people. The leeches are your greatest enemy and mine, as well. I hate them for dragging her into this world of darkness, altering the natural course of her life. But, let us not ignore that Isabella gift would not only ensure your lineage's ability to commune with your ancestors, but adding her power to your own will only serve to help save your people. By teaching her how to use that power, you and she could mount a heavy offense against your enemy. Unfortunately, the vampire hierarchy knows of your tribe's ability to turn into wolves and find it just as unnatural and dangerous as you find them, and their reach is great...and eternal. They are ruthless creatures, Quil! I watched two of them torture Bella before she died. It was horrific. I'm certain she would do whatever she could to stop them from doing the same to the Quileutes. We can't let it end this way! Not when you could do something! Please?"

The old man sighed loudly. If there was truly a great evil like the Vampire Hierarchy coming to decimate his people, Quil couldn't consciously ignore the girl's importance, especially if Bella could've assisted them. Leech or not, without the Swan girl, the Quileute tribe were very likely to perish in that instance. Due to her death, the Cullens were apt to leave the area permanently, and while just this morning he would've jumped for joy at that revelation, it was an awful thought, now. The Elder had felt the crushing weight on his shoulders intensify. It would take immense power to heal Isabella's body and draw her spirit back from the afterlife. It was an unnatural progression of the circle of life, and if the spirits granted him his request, it would change everything they'd ever known— and damn an innocent to live an eternal life as one of his enemies, in the process. Quil knew he was stuck in a difficult situation, because whatever choice he made, the cost was greater than he could've ever imagined.

He sighed and rolled forward into himself, reserved to his fate. Show me the path! he chanted over and over in his head, hoping the spirits had the answers he sought.

AN: Wow! I think this chapter deserves a bunch of reviews! Don't you? Rewriting an entire history takes a lot out of a person! It took me twenty-two hours to map out and write this chapter and rewrite…, and rewrite…, and rewrite. LOL.

Reward me! Reviews are like money~*tin cup held out.*