This is my wolf. He sits at the foot of the bed in the dark all night breathing so evenly, I am almost deceived. Maxine Kumin

The wind is alive, it must be, Claire decides. Because it trembles and travels the length of her spine tracing its delicate patterns into memories. It beats loud and low and rumbles and shakes the ground beneath her feet.

You were here before.

Don't you remember me?

Yes, she wants to say, but even know her memory is a feeble old thing. She wants to say yes, desperately she wants to remember and be privy to this rainy town's secrets, but she chews the inside of her lip hard and twists her hands in the dirt and –

Nothing.

Because she was only three when she left. She barely remembered what she ate for dinner yesterday, let alone what her life had been like fifteen years ago. Still –

Still a long low howl disrupts the silence and sends chills down her arms and her legs and her spine until she's vibrating with the sound of it. Bird's scatter across the skyline, flapping listlessly to get away from whatever could have roared so furiously; the trees bend and it's almost as if they might snap with the weight of the wind, her hair whips across her cheeks and sticks to her mouth uncomfortably.

This had been her home once, and as she digs her toes hard into the dirt, she can't help but feel that hadn't changed.

"Claire, you've grown about three feet since I've seen you last!" The words explode low and steady from her uncle's wide ribcage as he wraps his lost little niece in a tight hug.

"I would hope so!" Claire flashed her uncle a closed tight lip smile desperately trying to match the enthusiasm he so easily exuded, but she couldn't fight the uncomfortable feeling settling against her skin. The one that made her cheeks burn hot and her heart pump painfully slow; she was amongst strangers. People who knew more about her and loved her in ways she didn't quite understand. Afterall she had been three the last time she had saw her aunt and uncle.

"Don't crowd her, Sam. Nobody likes it when you do that." Emily chided from beside him artfully jabbing an elbow into his rock-solid torso. He didn't even flinch at the contact instead he grinned wolfishly at his wife and stepped away.

"I'm not crowding, woman. And if anyone does that it's you." She furrowed her brows at him and something in his demeanor seemed to change, he rubbed his neck almost sheepishly before planting a kiss on his wife's cheek and promptly disappearing into the house.

Emily turned back towards Claire, once again all smiles. Claire's eyes landed on Emily's ruined cheeks and something in her stomach dropped, her mouth tasted dry and sour as she wound her way into Emily's arms.

Something had hurt her – something big and terrible. A bear maybe.

Claire swallowed hard and convinced herself she wouldn't stare as much when she eventually pulled away. She convinced herself it would be normal, and she'd see past it and not feel weird or nervous or uncomfortable.

"It's been too long, darling." Emily's words float light and airy through the air and land in her hair, soft and sweet and so very loving. Claire felt floored with the intensity behind it. Felt immediately guilty because she couldn't reciprocate it.

Truth be told Claire had always been bad at expressing her emotions, she'd never liked being touched very much and her relationships with kids her age often felt wrong – stilted somehow.

As if she'd been alive for thousands of years and sat frozen in a body decades too young for her. Even now, even when she felt inexplicably home and cared for and wanted, she couldn't fight the unease clawing up her esophagus.

And then her throat felt hot and warm, and she blinks hard because she had told her mom she wouldn't cry.

Besides, this would only be temporary. Claire was visiting La Push for the summer before going away to college in Oregon. Her mother had dropped her off minutes ago and had been very clear with her instructions.

Stay out of trouble, don't cause too much work for Sam and Emily, and do something fun this summer. Although Claire wasn't quite sure her and her mother shared the same idea of fun. Where her mother wanted her to dye a strip of color in her dark hair, or wear all black, or listen to angry music, or stay out all night, Claire liked to read, and paint. She liked being at home more than anything.

But from the moment her mother had pulled past the crumbled sign of the rez, Claire knew she had never really been home. Had never really been quite at ease, not until they'd crossed the threshold and a thousand years of baggage seemingly evaporated.

Still, Claire felt apprehensive, as if her mother had left her to the wolves.

Claire pulled out of Emily's embrace, just enough to feel safe and comfortable, just enough to stare into the older woman's eyes and confess her fears, "I don't remember you, not like you remember me."

She watched Emily's face carefully, looked for any twitch or any sign of anger or resentment. But Emily blinked slowly and then laughed furiously. Despite having plenty of practice Claire couldn't quite fight the heat creeping up the back of her neck.

"You look at me like you know me," She snapped, "and I don't know you. Or anyone here. I just – I don't know what you expect from me."

At her revelation Emily's eyes went serious and she smiled sympathetically, "No one expects anything from you Claire. We just want you to have a fun summer is all."

And something in her words told Claire all she needed to know; her mother had tattled on her. Told her aunt how insanely boring she was. Was this supposed to be an intervention? Claire wondered nervously, was everyone else in on it?

Claire's grip on her chunky suitcase tightened as she nervously peered at her aunt. But if Emily noticed the way Claire's eyes glazed over, or her shoulders hitched up centimeter by centimeter she didn't show it, instead she wrapped an arm around the younger girl and ushered her inside "Come inside, it's cold out here."

And it was cold, but Claire found she didn't mind it. Not like she did the heat.

Which had been irrepressibly suffocating, the worst summer of her life had been spent in the heat hiking through mountains. Claire would never understand the appeal. She wasn't cynical but she certainly wasn't capable of romanticizing the great outdoors, not like her mother who was so artful at it.

As Claire followed her aunt into the small house her eyes lingered long and hard on the dream catchers and the wind chimes hung from the porch. The embroidered rugs, and the beaded feathers draped across the chipped siding of the wall.

It was messy and chaotic and sort of beautiful.

It made something in Claire's chest bloom as she fought the urge to touch the items surrounding her, maybe someone would teach her how to make them.

"It's wild in here Claire, prepare yourself." Emily teased, and despite wanting to laugh along with her Claire only nodded solemnly. Because that's what she had feared; that her family had a home that was lived in, well worn, and loved. A house that people gathered at. Claire had grown rather fond of the quiet that came with living with her mother, it was a shame she hadn't basked in the silence longer. In the moment before.

"The kids are savage, but the men are even more so!" Peels of laughter erupt from the boys reclining in the living room and it makes Claire uneasy, because she's supposed to find it funny, to see it for what it is. But she just feels gloomy and overwhelmed.

"I am perfectly tame, thank you." One of the boy's bites back but their faces bleed together and none of them stick out in anyway that would make Claire want to remember them.

"Yes, we are all the perfect little pets." Another one chimed in, but this one was on the floor wrestling with Sam and a rather small looking child.

"Take your pick Claire, we'll send one home with you." Sam roared with laughter as he disentangled himself from the mass of limbs on the floor, "we'll actually pay you to take the small ones."

And even though it was a joke, even though nobody had meant anything by it, Claire recoiled hard and shook her head furiously. "No, no thank you."

"Crowding," Emily hissed to her husband, at once Sam understood. He turned to the group of boys and they all seemed to be speaking telepathically, what with the way it got very quiet, and the air become thick and saturated with tension.

Perfect, Claire thought hopelessly, I am making things weird. Perhaps she'd be so strange and unlovable they'd send her packing before the first week was out. Claire couldn't quite tell if that's what she wanted.

Sam scooped up the smallest little boy still innocuously reeking mayhem on his younger sister and plopped down on the couch. Emily led Claire through the living room and past the kitchen, but not before hearing the last little bit of their conversation.

"What shall we watch?" That was Sam.

"Trolls!" One of the children.

A collection of low grunts and groans erupted and stilled almost as suddenly. Even though she was overwhelmed and terrified of disappointing everyone, she didn't find it strange that Sam and Emily kept company with a bunch of teenage boys clad in various stages of undress. If anything it seemed normal, more normal than her terse relationship with her mother.

"What are their names? The children?" Claire wondered quietly, and when Emily turned to stare at her she hastily backtracked, "I'm guessing their yours."

Emily suppressed a laugh, "The little hellion is Tarquin, but we call him Quin or Quinnie." She paused and seemed to hesitate for a moment before smiling again, albeit this time a little more subdued, "And our daughter's name is Leah, but we call her Anne. It's her middle name."

"They're my cousins then?" Claire hummed, but it wasn't a real question. She knew the answer.

"They're really excited to meet you, but I told them they needed to be patient. That you would most likely be overwhelmed. I told Sam not to invite everyone, but he gets carried away and he certainly doesn't do anything by halves." And even though she was complaining, Claire could so clearly see how much love she had for her husband.

Claire swallowed hard as she followed her aunt to the end of the hall, she pushed the door open revealing a rather small room. Claire didn't say anything, just looked around. It would be the smallest room she'd ever stayed in.

The bed was pushed against the wall and next to it a small dresser, there wasn't much room for anything else but a large window and a hastily tucked away rocking chair. Taped up boxes were stacked at the edge of the window and served as a makeshift ledge. Boxes were piled high on the rocking chair and were pushed against the bottom drawer of the dresser. It was obvious this was a storage room of some kind; it was the least lived in part of the house.

It seemed cold and sterile.

Good, Claire thought, it would be fitting. Perfect for her. The quiet little stranger everyone seemed to remember, but nobody recognized.

"I'm sorry it's so small, and a little messy but we have so much stuff and I've been telling Sam we need to get rid of some things but he's stubborn and seems to find reason enough to keep it around. I promise I'll bug him about it and we'll get something sorted, soon." Emily smiled apologetically and rung her hands together.

"It's nice, it…" Claire trailed off as her eyes landed on a small figure perched on the otherwise empty dresser. She dropped her bags on the bed and weaved through the boxes. "What's this?"

She gingerly picked up the small carved piece of wood. It was a wolf. A devastating, lonely, desperate chord was struck in her chest so violently she almost doubled over with the pain of it. Instead she grimaced tightly and stood up straighter.

"Oh? That? Hmm." Emily's brows furrowed as she studied the wooden creature, "I'm not sure where that came from. I'll take it to Sam –"

"No," Claire gasped surprising Emily and herself, "No, I just I think I would like to keep it. If you don't mind?"

"Oh, no, of course you can have it." She handed the figure back and Claire clutched it tight enough to press painfully into her palm, but she refused to let it go, felt if she loosened her grip for even a second someone might try and pry it out of her hand.

"Thank you." Claire murmured softly as she stared hard at the ground. They stayed like that for a moment, Claire knee deep in boxes and completely out of her element. Emily apologetic and concerned.

"I uh, I will let you get settled. If you need anything we'll be right outside, just follow the noise." Emily smiled softly, and Claire nodded numbly. She didn't meet her aunts gaze, but she knew what she would have found if she did. Sympathy, pity, kindness, it was all the same. She was so breathtakingly good. It was hard not to like her; and Claire did, she decided, like her. And she wanted her aunt to like her back. Not just the memory she had of the three-year-old girl so different from the person she was now.

Emily lingered in the doorway for a moment before sighing softly, "It's good to have you home Claire."

"It's nice to be home." Claire whispered back but not until after Emily had left and the door had been shut softly behind her. Not until she had sat in the silence and the stillness and felt desperate and overwhelmed and scared and absolutely terrified.

She whispered it like she was telling a secret.

A/N: Welcome to my story. I rewatched the Twilight movies so of course I'm writing another fanfiction. This time it's about Claire and Quil. It's not going to be overwhelmingly fluffy and happy although I would like it to be eventually, I want to explore what it would be like to live without your imprint for so long. I imagine it would effect both sides of the bond, and so it's going to be heavy and probably a little depressing but I'll try and put moments of comic relief to break it up. I would sincerely love it if you would review, but I am not so sure anyone is going to read this! If you do, thank you!