Third Life

The Hunting:

Ever since the means of communication between George and I had been secured, he has been asking me questions about my new species. He hasn't asked me in a annoying way or even in a hurtful way. George is simply curious and genuinely interested. One of the things he has been most eager to understand concerns the subject of hunting. This also happens to be the one question of his which I have avoided for my past several letters. Now, after receiving a particularly sweet and reassuring letter from him, I knew it was time for me to explain. Luckily, writing has always been my preferred method of admitting whatever I wished not to admit.

Dear Mr. George Weasley,

The Fabulous,

I still am not sure if this is something I entirely want you to understand. The thoughts I have on the matter of hunting and the feelings I feel are extremely personal. However, I know that when curiosity killed the cat, I share the illness. I will confided completely in only you my experience in the matter. You deserve to know. I only hope that my words might not change your views on my new way of life.

Up until this point you have been nothing but supportive and entirely understanding. Now, with my thoughts racing with what to tell you, I will move on to the initial matter. Just forgive me for my words possibly appearing as thoughts, this might be the only method of which I can entirely explain.

Hunting with Alice is an entirely different experience then hunting with Emmett. With Emmett the experience is all about letting go, dominating and belittling the pray. We attack with violence and take thrill in being the ultimate hunters. With Alice the excitement is the challenge. Our clothing remains crisp and clean, our attacks sharp and precise. Instead of combating with our prey we stalk and play a game of cat and mouse. Both methods of gathering and savoring our feed are enjoyable. The company's preference is the deciding factor in my own performance, as I tend to seep in some of their preference as we hunt in close proximity.

I dislike hunting with Carlisle and Jasper. I have always favored myself an animal lover. I had even been a vegetarian for a time, due to the fact I hadn't wanted animals killed for me to eat. Especially, when I was just as able to live off of vegetables and other foods. Foods which had not once had eyes and thoughts. I have kept the thought that I was an animal lover, until I was turned, to myself. In my turned state I have come to terms with the fact that I would choose to kill animals over humans without a second thought.

Then I went hunting, I killed animals without hesitation and I found enjoyment in my actions. The first time I went hunting with Carlisle, I witnessed his hesitation. Even after hundreds of years of taking the lives and blood of animals, he still didn't want to. Carlisle found no enjoyment in hunting. Only the need to survive and to retain control drew him to the hunt. I was ashamed that my love for creatures and animals, for their very life, had so easily been drowned out for my own pleasure.

Jasper was also one whom I dislike going hunting with. I feel incredibly selfish for this preference, but I hate watching him hunt. Feeling the emotions of the prey is hard on him. He doesn't just see the fear in their eyes like the rest of us. He feels the fear and because the emotions of the prey are always so raw and immense, he feels that fear, first hand, in the depths of his very bones. The thing is, Jasper is so incredibly dedicated to Alice and this way of life that he literally fights with himself to not only drink his fill, but saturate his body with as much blood as he can manage. He sees every drop of crimson as control and he has to suffer through the emotions of his greed for those drops and the suffering fear and pain his prey shares with him. I hate seeing this and if my presence helped him in anyway I would gladly stand by his side every time he hunted. However, my existence in the woods as he hunts does nothing more then inflict more conflicting emotions on him. The best thing for both of us, is for us to not share hunting trips.

Hunting with Esme is a mixture of boring and humiliating. I can't allow myself the liberation of the complete lack of control in her presence. I care to deeply of what she thinks of me. For that reason. I retain too much of human thought. She enjoys hunting mildly, but would forgo the task if she could. As a result, her hunting effort is nearly similar to her husbands, only for the drink. When I went about the task with her, my thoughts reflected human disgust. I became ashamed of the creature I had become. These were the only moments which I could bring myself to agree with Edward's assessment of vampires being nothing more then monsters.

Edward is a pleasure to hunt with. He is a mix of the hunting styles of both Emmett and Alice. The best hunting team is Edward, Rosalie and myself. Both of them love stalking the prey. Rosalie a bit more then Edward, and both of them like to tear apart their pray. The feeling which fills me as I hunt with this pair is a magnificent, overflowing, feeling of being a type of hunting royalty. In life I had never dreamed or desired to be an elite or royal, but hunting with them, it feels like I have found my rightful place. The feeling of being in the right place at the right time and feeling like that is were I absolutely should be at that particular time in existence, is perfection. For so long, I have felt no stability and only experience floating and displacement. They give a place, and hunting with them is when my placement feels the most absolutely right.

I can only hope, that you might think of me as you had before my confessions.

With affection,

Pawreed.

Before I could change my mind, I folded the paper harshly and shoved it into the compartment that would bring it to a surviving twin on the other side of the ocean. However, shoving the paper away was not enough and I hastily exited my room to explore the house.

I had found the craft supply closet room by mistake one night. I had just been exploring when I had found the place that had been only briefly mentioned to me before. Everything that could possibly be needed for school projects or our own endeavors, could be found in the mild sized room. Most likely, so there would not be many outings to the craft store. Here is where I had found the yarn and knitting needles.

I had taken my looted supplies into the west facing den. From what I could tell, I was the only one who cared to come into this particular room. This suited me just fine, as I had grown quite fond of the little out of the way room.

My transformation had made my hands steady. Therefore, my knitting was more even and well spaced. Although, my end results still have yet to turn out to be that which I had set out to create. This is just fine, better than fine actually. I savor the idea of not being good at something. I hadn't been good at flying, which had been great. Now I didn't have flying to not be good at, but I still had my horrid knitting skills. I found comfort with this thought.