I didn't remember much of my life before. Most of it was hazy memories or feelings I couldn't place. But I was pretty sure that I'd never felt homesick before. I did now. After losing all my agency to pain and thirst, Peter had been the one I held on to. His silly jokes and extravagant stories made the old barn feel like home. In an everchanging world where my mind was suddenly screaming murder, my body craved blood, and my senses adapted to fighting as naturally as they had to hunting, he was my rock. The only stable thing in this war I had never known existed. Until he wasn't.

Until he turned from calm and considerate to tense and irritable.

Until he started fighting with Jasper, the man that—though incomprehensible to me—was like a brother to him.

Until he stopped talking to me.

A loud crack followed by deafening screams tore me from my thoughts. The fight below my feet was over now, the new girl had won. Despite Luis being almost twice her size, she had snapped him clean in half. He was writhing on the floor now, desperately trying to pry his lower body from her hands. She laughed.

She shouldn't have.

Hissing and snarling travelled through the barn, as the darkness came to life. Clothes rustled, and floorboards cracked. I was glad to be out of reach, safely hidden away behind the roof beams, not about to get involved. There were two groups of us these days: the new ones—only a few days old, well fed, still angry and bursting with pure strength—and the older ones, better trained but starving and jealous. They hadn't taken us out to feed for almost two weeks. Some sort of test, the others suspected. I disagreed. If it was a test, they would be watching us, not staying away while the fights were getting more violent by the hour.

Eight were circling each other now—three of them created at the same time I was, two a little older, the remaining three from the new batch. All dressed in rags, all with pale skin and red eyes, but none with the capability to realise that killing each other wasn't the solution. And yet, I couldn't take my eyes of the flashing teeth and striking limbs. The hungry, envious beast inside of me wanted to see the young ones punished for shoving their bright red eyes into our faces.

My fingers twitched, eager to join the altercation, let out some of the pain and loneliness that was eating at me. But the thought was immediately squashed by the suffocating feeling of having all emotion sucked out of my body until there was nothing left but an artificial, demeaning calm. The struggle below subsided instantly. Young eyes darted through the room, disoriented by the sudden emptiness. They weren't used to him yet.

When Peter told me that it was Jasper's special gift that numbed our emotions, I was astonished. Fascinated by the possibilities and intrigued by the idea of possessing such a power myself. But it didn't take me long to realise what an atrocity it truly was. His influence had no respect for personal boundaries, it was nothing more than another tool to take our free will; he had us all in a choke hold and I suspected that somewhere inside, he enjoyed it. Peter disagreed.

I hurried back down to the group, disappearing in the masses just as the door opened. Pale moonlight illuminated the dust that the fight had stirred up. No one dared to move as his eyes wandered over the group. They stopped at Luis, who was still sitting on the ground. He must have gotten a hold of his second part when Jasper's peace swept the barn. However, cracks still showed beneath his shirt as he hustled to his feet; the healing process wasn't complete.

"You there, with me," Jasper ordered.

The boy hurried to comply, more dragging than walking himself over to the door. I tried to give him an encouraging smile when his empty gaze passed mine, but I doubted that he even noticed.

No one moved as the door closed behind them. Even when Jasper's influence faded and we were in control again, nobody seemed to feel the need to continue fighting. Instead, there was an unsettled murmur passing through the crowds. They had never taken one of us alone before, and I highly doubted it was to punish Luis for fighting. Jasper never had issues with doing that right in front of us. But if not that, what was going on?

I retreated to the side. Peter's chair was gone and the window barred up, but there was a chance I could make out what was going on outside through the small crack between the boards. My fingers tugged on the corner and I tried to get a glimpse of night sky when something light brushed my bare feet. Startled, I let go of the wood and jumped back. The gust my movement caused picked up the flower and threw it through the air before it sailed towards the floor again. It was yellow, an odd spot of colour in the grey of the barn.

Someone must have wedged it between the boards; a few days ago, judging from its brown edges. But who would do such a thing? And then I suddenly realised. Peter.

It had been months ago, back when the chair was still intact. We had been playing a game he invented and called 'I see, you tell'. One of us picked something they saw outside the barn and the other then had to tell whatever story came to mind when looking at it. He had pointed at a solitary cloud that passed by and I was suddenly reminded of a poem. It was one of the memories that I couldn't figure out, despite the recollection itself being clear as a nice summer sky. I didn't remember where I read it or who wrote it, but the verses came naturally as I recited it to him.

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

I stared down at the flower, confused. It was not a daffodil. And still, no one else could have placed it. Jasper and Maria certainly didn't go around picking flowers. Save them, Peter was the only one with the freedom to walk around unsupervised. Also, the window was our spot. That's why it hurt so much when he barred it up, just a few days ago.

But what was he trying to tell me? Was this his way of apologising for abandoning me? Or was it just my starved brain—desperate to escape the loneliness—wishing he remembered the poem I shared with him?

Another crushing wave of unwanted composure overcame me before I found the answer. The loud scraping of the door being pushed open announced someone's return soon after. Luis?

No. Jasper was alone, his expression unreadable as usual. He didn't seem to register the curious eyes and agitated whispers. Instead, he singled out another one of us and ordered Camila to his side. This time, however, someone spoke out before they could disappear.

"Where are you taking her?" Alma. She and Camila had always hovered around each other, making me feel like the odd one out in the beginning. That was before I learned that being turned at the same time didn't mean anything.

Jasper froze. I could tell how tense he was; his shoulders were pulled up and the hand that wasn't resting on the door was bent into a strange claw-like shape, as if he was trying to keep it from clenching into a fist. "One-on-one instruction."

I perked up. One-on-one instruction? We never did that before. Could it mean that a battle was imminent?

Peter had told me about them. He spoke of the thrill and blood, a triumphant victory. But in my head, the picture he painted was adorned with twitching limbs, shattered skin, and aching bites. An image irrevocably burnt into my brain a few months back when a small handful of newborns from a neighbouring clan attacked us while we were out to feed. Jasper had taken out three of them before they even knew what happened, and Peter had handled another two. I had been struggling with my own opponent—a young man, at least one head taller than me, yet surprisingly uncoordinated. It wouldn't have been too difficult to take his head off, but I hesitated, not wanting to give in to the beast inside. Peter pulled him from my grasp and took care of it before I had to make a decision.

I doubted that he would do the same now. If a fight was coming, I'd have to come to terms with killing one of us soon. Maybe this one-on-one training would be a good thing. Still, the thought of being alone with Jasper was unnerving. Peter always insisted that he wasn't as bad once one got to know him but despite my best efforts, I couldn't see past the controlling monster I had gotten to know. This was who would be waiting for me later tonight. And I wouldn't let him put another scar on me without a fight.

Uncountable moves and tactics ran through my head as the door opened again and again. Five times in total, until his cold gaze finally settled on me. I patted the dirt from my trousers and walked over to the door, silently struggling to regain as much of my dignity as I could while being smothered by his artificial restraint. If Peter's stories about his gift were true, Jasper could tell that my nerves were getting to me, but I refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing it as well. And so, I kept my head high as I passed him and stepped out into the darkness.

The wind had a bitter tinge to it tonight and there was an unusual warm glow in the distance. A fire, I realised. However, my attention was captured and dragged away from these oddities by a moving shadow before I could spare them another thought. Peter was standing next to the barn, holding the large wooden truss that usually secured the door. I smiled, relieved to see him despite the recent silence. I wasn't going to be alone with the monster after all, and that was good enough for me right now.

"The bolt," Jasper demanded, but Peter didn't react. The wood creaked beneath his fingers as he clutched it tighter. Veins were popping on his arms, neck, and forehead. And his eyes, burning hot with fear and anger, were staring right at me.

My smile disappeared. Something was wrong. If Jasper had been tense earlier, Peter was now wound tighter than a good bedspring. I had never seen him like this before. A deep growl escaped his throat, and then he suddenly screamed.

"Run, Char! RUN!"

I dashed forward without a second of doubt, past the fire out into the darkness of the empty plains. Wind howled in my ears, muting the loud thud of my steps on the ground. It wasn't long before they were joined by a second pair. I pushed my legs harder, expecting the monster to catch up with me any second. But then I recognised the pounding. Jasper moved silently, like a feral cat. Peter on the other hand…

"Don't stop," his voice confirmed my suspicion. "Keep running!"

xxxx

We ran for hours without pause. By the time the sun rose, my legs were burning almost as badly as my throat, but Peter still pushed on. Cities came to life around us, their sound of daily life echoed in my ears as we passed through fields and forests, our skin bursting into a firework of stars whenever a drop of sunlight caught it. The air heated up, carrying the sweet smell of human blood for miles, setting my throat ablaze. I almost stopped and gave into my hunger once, but Peter grabbed my hand and wordlessly pulled me with him. He didn't let go again.

Judging from the shadows on the ground, it was close to midday when he finally slowed down and eventually stopped completely. We had been running through the forest for a few minutes. It provided shade and shelter from the temptation, but other than that it seemed insignificant. Just like all the other woods we had passed.

"It should be safe here for now, I think," Peter said.

I sank to my knees and rubbed my aching thighs. "Safe from what?" My voice was raspy; I was already hungry before last night, positively starving now.

He didn't answer, frantically running his hands over his face and head instead. His behaviour still was miles off from the placid man I had once called my friend.

"I need to feed," I tried again.

His eyes widened and he quickly shook his head. "You can't, I'm sorry."

My patience was running thin. He had refused to speak to me for weeks, chased me hundreds of miles away from everything I'd known in this second life, drained all energy I had left, and now he told me I couldn't feed? This was unacceptable. A growl escaped my throat. "I'm not asking for your permission."

Peter's shoulders fell and he rested his head in his hands, slowly shaking it again and again. "I'm sorry, Charlotte, I really am. I was trying to save you, but now I fear I've doomed us both… We can't feed. If the coven occupying this territory catches us, they'll kill us. We won't stand a chance alone."

He was trying to save me? From what? And then I remembered. That stench. The fire. It was the same nauseating bitterness that stuck in my clothes for weeks after the incident on our hunting trip. Luis, Camila, Alma, Carlos, Mateo, Isabel, Gabriel, I recited their names in my head. "The others are dead, aren't they?"

"You were getting too old. Newborn strength doesn't last forever… It's common practice to replace soldiers once they reach the one-year-mark."

I swallowed drily, trying to get rid of the knot that was building in my throat. Rationally, it made sense. It was called 'newborn army' for a reason. But that didn't help make the images go away. They were dancing in front of my eyes now, one face warping into another. Luis. Camila. Alma. Carlos. Mateo. Isabel. Gabriel. I had never cared deeply for any of them, they were aggressive, rarely able to follow a conversation longer than a few minutes. Still, the knowledge that all of them were gone now, burnt to ashes, stung.

"I tried to convince Jasper to let you stick around but Maria said no. And then he called you out and— I just panicked. I'm sorry," Peter continued and placed his hand over mine.

I immediately pulled away. "Could you please stop apologising!" It came out harsher than I had intended, fuelled by thirst. The pained look in his eyes immediately made me regret it. "Pardon me, I just— I am trying to wrap my head around all of this."

"It's okay. I'm sor—" he broke off before finishing his sentence, realising his mistake.

We sat in silence for a moment as I fought the images in my head, trying to think despite the hunger eating at me. "Why did you stop talking to me?" was all I could eventually muster.

Peter sighed heavily. "I was afraid that it would draw too much attention to you. Jasper could have figured out I was trying to save you and—do something stupid."

And here you are, the one who always tried to convince me that he wasn't that bad. "Like hurt me?"

He didn't react, his eyes still trained on the forest floor in front of him. He was picking at the grass, tearing it out by its root.

"You hurt me," I said, pulling my legs closer.

Peter's hand froze and he finally looked up. "I'm— I really regret having done that. I thought it was the only way… I tried to let you know that I still cared but I guess it didn't work."

"The flower," I realised.

He nodded, averting his eyes, and continuing his grass pile.

His remorse was genuine, that much was obvious from the way his shoulders slumped and his face fell earlier. And his actions, though needlessly overprotective, had come from a noble place. It was as good an apology I could have asked for. What else was I to do? "You're forgiven," I whispered and carefully removed the grass from his fingers so I could place my hand in his again.

Peter gently squeezed my fingers. "Thank you, I appreciate that. Though it doesn't really matter much now."

"I'm not ready to give up yet," I said and met his tired eyes. "There has to be a way."

Peter chuckled, but the humour didn't reach his eyes. "Don't you remember the big speech about how the entire vampire world is fighting for human livestock?"

"You're the one who's been around for longer. How did you avoid running into other covens?"

"We didn't, really. As far as I know, Maria's tactic was always to become strong enough for the other covens to avoid her."

"No," I shook my head, dismissing the idea instantly. "We're not starting an army. It's barbaric."

"Agreed on that." He sighed. "I guess our best bet is to stay away from cities. If there aren't too many humans around, there's no reason to fight."

That sounded reasonable. And suddenly, I knew exactly where we could go. "We'll head farther north then. I'm not sure how I know this but there are large parts of Canada that aren't populated at all."

Peter smiled slightly, and the spark finally returned to his eyes. "Canada it is. Can you handle your thirst for another few hours?"

I swallowed drily. My body screamed 'no', but my mind was stronger. My mother had always called me a stubborn child, maybe that was the reason why I could handle them so well later in life. "Yes. Just don't let go."

He squeezed my hand again. "Promise. Now let's go figure out if we like snow."

"I hate snow," I returned without hesitation. Again, unsure where exactly this came from.

"Well, figure out if I like snow, then."

A/N: The poem Charlotte quotes is by William Wordsworth and was first published in 1807. Charlotte and poetry just clicked for me, which is why I wanted to include a lyrical work in this chapter.

I hope you liked my first try at Charlotte's PoV. The final Part of Runaways will be from Peter's PoV again and should be posted sometime next week.