Chapter Ten: Cares and Worries

Bella's POV:

"Edward!" I shouted, rushing back towards the house at an immortal speed, toting the unconscious person in my arms like they were only a couple of pounds. Edward heard me, and in nearly an instant, he was at my side, taking the man from my arms.

"Bella, what happened? Who is this?" he asked, trying to place the man's face. The man's skin and shape seemed as though something was writhing on the inside, trying to escape his human form. "What is he?"

"I don't know Edward," I said. I began telling him what had happened.

I had stepped out to try to find Leah. Edward had said that I hadn't offended her, but I couldn't shake the feeling that more words were needed before she could feel comforted again.

As I had been running, I had heard a rustling. Like a giant pair of wings were flapping on a huge bird, passing low overhead. The rustling suddenly cut off, and there was a yelp. A human yelp. I looked up, and my heart leapt in my throat as I saw this man falling out of the sky. I had no idea how he got there, but I'd leapt into the air to save him from his death.

"I didn't get a name before he fainted. He's obviously not a normal human. I have no idea what he might be, Edward," I summed up.

Edward's expression was one of concentration. He was staring into the man's face.

As I too looked on the man's face, it struck me how oddly boyish it looked. He looked at the peak of his life, with the exception of the ruby-red hues shifting all over his skin.

Shifting.

Shapeshifter?

"Edward, could he be a shapeshifter?" I asked, my eyes widening. "I thought they only turned into wolves?"

Edward was visibly focusing hard.

"His thoughts…" Edward said, growling as he concentrated. "…so tangled up. Fire. Scars. Pain. Fear. Worry. But also… also… Love…"

Here, Edward's concentration broke. He breathed in a spare breath.

"He's in a lot of pain. And I don't blame him. How could you stand this heat?" Edward hissed.

I hadn't noticed, but as I touched him again, I nearly hissed. He was burning hot! Yet he wasn't sweating. But even Jacob hadn't ever felt this kind of hot before.

"Edward, let's take him to the guest room so Carlisle can have a look at him," I said, biting my lip with worry. "He's losing blood."

Edward seemed to finally notice the many scratches all over the man's body. His blood had an animal scent to it, like Jacob's or Leah's or Seth's, but he smelled different. Not woodsy… more like a damp cave. Moss. And smoke was a prominent smell. The man exuded an aura of smoky heat.

"Yes, let's do that," Edward said, turning and blurring through the forest. I followed closely on his heels.

We dashed into the door, eliciting confused stares from all parties in the house.

"Carlisle," Edward said at a normal volume. Carlisle appeared next to Edward, already leaning over the man in his arms.

"Get him upstairs and into the guest-room's bed. Jacob, I may need your help for this one," Carlisle said, going into 'doctor-mode.'

Jacob nodded and put Renesmee down, who immediately came over and jumped into my arms. She put her hand on my cheek.

"I don't know who he is, Renesmee," I said, concerned over the man. Edward said he was in a lot of pain, and I felt several instincts within me wanting to help the man get back to health. "He's very sick though."

Renesmee put her hand on my cheek again. I smiled.

"No, Jacob will be fine," I said, chuckling with her tone of worry. "Not that kind of sick, Nessie."

Renesmee smiled and jumped back out of my arms, before going over to a drawer and removing several pieces of paper and her crayons. She walked over to the table with her treasures, and began to scribble on the paper.

Alice suddenly flitted into the house, followed by Jasper.

"Bella," she said, almost relieved. "Why can't I see what's happening to you this week? Or Carlisle or Edward, for that matter?"

"I just brought in a young man, we think he's a shapeshifter, which would make sense, if you can't see him," I began, "he's unconscious in the upstairs bedroom right now. I didn't get his name before he fell unconscious."

Alice looked up the stairs, before darting up them. Jasper obviously felt no wayward emotions at the minute, so he simply walked over to Renesmee to see what she was drawing.

"What's the masterpiece you're drawing here?" I heard him ask, in the background of my mind.

"A wolf," Renesmee said simply. "Like Jacob."

"Looks like you're off to a good start there, darlin'," Jasper said with a hint of his Southern accent.

I walked up the stairs, and entered the guest room. Alice was with Edward, staring at the man in the bed. Carlisle was hovering over a monitor as he hooked up several small tubes to the man.

The man's chest was exposed, and he was ripped in more ways than one. Wherever the red skin rolled over, his body became muscled and thick. I could see each tiny piece of armor that covered his torso, they looked like ruby-red scales. But when the red skin passed, his human skin was covered with scars. Angry red marks that blazed brightly, even by human standards. His face was careworn with years of worry, even though he looked only about 23 or so. But I knew that Jacob had looked like a 25 year old man when he was sixteen. Shapeshifter physiology was an unexplained field of study of Carlisle's.

But more than that, I was substantially surprised and shocked to watch as two small horns sprouted from the top of his head, and suddenly a wing appeared behind his back, scrunched up against the bed.

Gingerly, making sure not to upset the tubes Carlisle put in the man or disturb this young man, I gently lifted his body, letting his wing sag to the floor. It was ruby-red, much like the rest of his shifted skin did, and leathery. Its span was about half of his own body-length, and took up most of the left side of the room. Edward and Alice had to step around the wing, gawking as they did so.

"Whatever this guy's other form is, it's definitely not a wolf," Alice said, her expression full of wonder. "I don't even know what he might be."

"Well whatever he is," I said, sitting down on a spare stool in the room. "He needs help."

"Someone will have to stay in here at all times, to make sure that when he wakes up we can explain," Carlisle said. He glanced at the wing, as suddenly it shimmered and slid back into the young man's body. "And, it seems we will have to make sure that whatever it is he can transform into is comfortable as well."

"I'll take first shift," I said, feeling a sense of duty to this young man. He looked pained, even in sleep.

"Bella, are you sure?" Edward said, squeezing my hand. "You don't have to do this."

"It's fine, Edward, I feel like I need to," I said, staring at the man. "Like I owe him this."

"Whenever you're ready to trade out, just give one of us a call, then," Carlisle said. "I'll be in my office if you need me."

With that, everyone else left the room.

"Well, mister whoever-you-are," I said, trying to sound cheerful, though curiosity was eating my guts. "Let's hope you wake up soon."


Leah's POV:

I raced through the forest, searching wildly. Where had he gone? He couldn't have gotten far. He had gone this way, I had seen him.

I snuffled around on the ground, trying to catch his smoky scent. When that failed, I put my nose in the air, whimpering worriedly.

Where had he gone?

I replayed the moment in my head. He had wings. He had been going this way. At some point, I had lost him.

I turned and ran back to the cave as fast as I could, arriving in a few seconds. I snuffled around. His scent was definitely here.

Now all I had to do was trace it. I whimpered and scratched a head with my paw. There were at least twenty different paths outwards from here that he had made. This would take a while.

But I didn't care. As long as I eventually found him again, and could talk to him. I couldn't shake the feeling that he needed me. That I had to be there.

I ran around in a circle, admittedly panicking.

'What if there was a bloodsucker? No, that couldn't be, the other one would've seen it. Alice. Could he have gotten in trouble?' I thought, snuffling around one of the scent-trails closest to the direction I had seen him going. 'What could he get in trouble from? He's got friggin' WINGS! What could possibly have happened? Lightning, but there wasn't any thunder or rain or even clouds. Bloodsucker, but they can't fly, as far as I know. One of the pack? No, surely not. They wouldn't be able to get up to him, if he was flying above the canopy…'

Above the canopy. Something about that struck me as a clue. A clue I desperately needed.

'Could he have fallen? If he was above the canopy, there'd be a hole or something—' I thought, rushing off the way I had originally gone. I scanned the treetops as I ran. There had to be something that could prove that he existed. Something

Suddenly, I found what I was looking for. A hole in the canopy, cracked and hanging branches… an entire tree fallen over…

I rushed over to the fallen log on the ground, searching for anything. Footprints, scents, scraps of clothing I could track… handsome, grey-eyed frightened men with wings and a serious skin condition…

Nothing.

I whimpered again and lay down, putting my paws over my ears. I couldn't shake the voice inside, telling me that I was in the wrong place.

He's not here.

You need to be there.

He needs you.

He's in trouble.

Help him.

I whimpered again. I looked upwards at the trail of fallen branches. I noticed something new, this time. The branches stopped breaking after a certain point. Calculations ran through my head as I tried to picture what might've happened.

He crashes through the canopy, for some reason or other. At some point, he regains some control, and crashes straight through the tree, knocking it down. He—he…

No, that couldn't be it. If he had regained control over why he had fallen, he would've still been around here. His scent, or anything like that. So something else happened. I sniffed the air once again, trying to sense the most miniscule scent I could find.

There was a faint sickly-sweetness in the air.

Suddenly, the image of what happened rang clear through my head.

He fell through the canopy. As he was falling, a bloodsucker saw him falling. They jumped through the branches—there was the entrance hole—and caught him. They were the ones who crashed into the tree, holding my imprint. Then they evidently ran off.

I snarled. Alice wouldn't have seen any vampires approaching if it involved a shapeshifter. Jacob had told me that our kind eludes the seersucker.

I snuffled around for the faint scent of sickly-sweet. I found the smallest wind of it after a few moments.

Triumphant, I charged forward. I would find this leech and tear him to shreds. I'd do even worse to them if it turned out they had tried to even touch my imprint. I'd bite their fingers off slowly, and then force-feed them their own fingers. I'd—

And then it went south. Not the actual direction, but the situation.

I felt a drop of rain fall on my muzzle. I looked up at the sky with horror.

I had been wrong, there were clouds today. Forks was in for a rain shower, like any other day of the year, and the rain would wash the scent of the bloodsucker away.

I ran at as fast a pace as my nose would allow, breathing deeply as I tried to trace the scent. The rain began falling faster. I was half-sobbing with desperation as I sniffed, knowing that I would never catch up to his scent in time before the rain washed the smoky smell away.

No! No no no, this can't be happening to me! I had finally found my imprint after all this time thinking I was in for a life of hurt and loneliness, only to have him swiped away by a leech and a couple bucketfuls of water!

I collapsed in the middle of the forest, paws over my eyes, and let the rain wash over me, each drop condemning me.

He's in trouble.

Quick!

Go to him!

Run!


Rye's POV:

Burning. The pain was much more acute than before. I tried writhing, or even moving, but I couldn't move my limbs. They were like unresponsive lead weights. I tried opening my mouth, or even my eyes.

And through all the pain, none of it was as harsh as a voice I heard in my mind.

She's hurting.

She needs you.

You are in the wrong place.

You need to go to her.

Move!

It wasn't an actual voice, as far as I knew, but it might as well have been one. I wanted to do anything. I'd even bargain with the vampires around me, if I needed to. Just let me see her once more.

No, I couldn't put her in danger. Perhaps I'd bargain that they don't hurt her, then. I didn't need to see her in person, I only needed to picture her in my mind. I could see her perfectly.

I was vaguely aware that the vampires seemed to hand me off to each other, before finally I felt a soft texture under me, and something was propped behind my head. A bed? A pillow?

I felt several other, acute pains, but they were ultimately overshadowed by the burning in my chest, which seemed to suddenly grow hotter. The scent of vampires filled my nose, and my body lolled with response to the threat it sensed all around me. A wing sprouted from my back, as if trying to make up for giving up earlier. But with the bed underneath me, all that happened was a greater stab of pain as my wing was crushed under my body.

Then, I felt a gentle touch caress my arm. At first I panicked, wondering what the touch would grow into. But it remained gentle and supportive. I began to feel myself being turned over, slowly and gently. Voices spoke. I couldn't hear what they were saying, and I wasn't paying attention. My wing was freed from its prison under me, and the touch that had soothed that pain gently lowered me back against the bed again.

It was strange, to be frank, and unexpected. I hadn't felt a soothing touch since… well, perhaps since Ramona. Nearly six years of hiding, foraging, and wandering. Cast-off by both worlds, supernatural and natural, but accepted in this gray safe-haven by the unknown Touch.

I felt the inky darkness of a deeper sleep call to me, and I succumbed to it. The voices faded, and the background silence grew louder as I drifted further into my subconscious.


Ramona and Dimitria were fun, and very caring. Every night, Ramona would stay with Dimitria, who would go to wherever she went to, and always bring back something for Rye to eat in the evening. Ramona would go in the morning, and bring him something for breakfast. The time in between was spent exploring the thick jungle around the hut, accompanied by Ramona and/or Dimitria.

It was fun and for the first time, Rye felt free of the pain from his curse. The burning was still present, and it still caused him pain, but it faded into a dull background as he appreciated the care that Ramona gave him.

In return, he did little things for Ramona. He'd respect the lines she drew for him not to cross, always staying within a certain distance from the hut. He had assured Ramona that nothing dared to attack him, because something about his curse frightened them away. Yet Ramona had insisted that he always stay within the boundaries.

He also did what she asked, every day, when she tried to understand his curse. She called it a 'gift', but he did not agree. Yet he could be compliant, and did what she asked when she tried to teach him how to control his burden.

The third rule that Ramona set for Rye was that he should not ask her or Dimitria where they went to get their food. She had told him that he probably didn't want to hear the particulars, and he truly didn't. He shivered as she gave him this rule, before agreeing. Even if they did only drink animal blood, he didn't want to hear the gory-story.

And yet, he felt something was off. His curse was always shielding his human nature from the two vampires. His body seemed to see something threatening in his two immortal caretakers. Whenever Ramona came to sit next to him, he could feel his secondary skin shimmer into existence, on whatever side she sat on. His wings commonly appeared, when either vampire approached him outside. His horns never left his head, it seemed.

The lines, as he began to grow accustomed to his new lifestyle, began to seem somewhat restricting. As he sat down to think about it, he also hadn't heard any of the villagers coming after him. He had known that the village was terrified of him, but not in the kind that would make them run. The kind of fear that would make them hunt him down. With guns, probably. And yet suddenly, it was like the village no longer existed.

He tried to resist, and be happy. But his instincts were nagging at him.

Dangerous. They said. Get out! Run! Fly! Quickly!

It happened one night, that Rye was walking back towards the hut to get to bed. Ramona would be waiting for him at the hut, and Dimitria would be back within a few more minutes with something tasty.His spine suddenly tingled like an electric current was traveling down his back. He felt like he was being watched.

Time seemed to slow down, as he scanned his surroundings, his eyes widening. His wings sprouted from his back, and his secondary skin rippled across his skin, and his eyes began shining through the dense darkness.

Two black eyes stared at him back, under the cover of the wild hair of the pale man, staring right back at him. The man was quivering, and his skin was white under the moonlight.

Vampire.

And he was thirsty. VERY thirsty.

Rye took a tentative step backwards. The man mirrored his motion.

His wings made a skittish flap, and suddenly the man charged forward, almost faster than Rye could react.

And suddenly, a second white vampire barreled out of nowhere, snarling. This was also a man, and his eyes were also black.

"Mine!" the newcomer said, crashing into the first one with a sound like thunder. Both vampires began snarling and hissing as they flew around each other, clawing and scratching.

Rye turned, and ran. The vampires stopped fighting, seeing their prey escaping.

Rye felt tears flying down his cheeks as he ran, as fast as he could. He barely realized that his feet were flying across the ground, at least as fast as the vampires were running after him. He had never been able to go as fast as Ramona or Dimitria, but it was like his body was suddenly able to move as swiftly and efficiently as the two vampires EVER could.

The two vampires, however, were right on his tail. He pushed his feet faster, but they were slowly gaining on him. Their teeth were exposed, shining in the moonlight, deadly sharp. Rye panicked as he bolted like a frightened rabbit caught between two wolves.

His wings itched to fly away, knowing that Rye would be safe in the air, where the vampires wouldn't be able to follow. But the jungle was too thick, and all he'd manage to do is get himself killed. So he ran.

There was a clearing coming up, though. He dashed forward as fast as a bolt of lightning, his wings stretching out to take flight. The vampires were only a few feet short of stepping on his tail.

The moment he broke free of the jungle's thick canopy, his wings pumped with all the force they could muster. He shot upwards like a rocket, much to the disappointment and rage of the two bloodthirsty vampires below. He could see them tearing each other apart, but suddenly that wasn't what he was focused on.

From his perch in the air, he could see everything spread out below him.

The village. But it wasn't quite like he had left it.

Bodies lay in the streets, nearly half of them white as a sheet. All of them seemed to have broken necks. There was a large pile of bodies near the edge of the jungle, their pallid skin white as a vampire's. There was only one other figure darting between the roads of the village. Her skin was also so white, it could only be a vampire's.

As Rye looked closer, he paled himself.

It was Dimitria. She was bending over a man's corpse.

Rye felt like he might careen out of the sky. The air around him felt like it was spinning. Dimitria and Ramona… drank humans?

Of course, he was so stupid. They were vampires. Literally every legend of vampires drank human blood. Why had he been so stupid? Why had Ramona lied to him?

Suddenly, he saw her. Both of his caretakers were looking around on the ground, probably for Rye.

Rye slowly came down from the sky, landing on one of the village's roofs. He nearly made himself seen, but suddenly he heard what Ramona was saying.

"—he must've seen you. My prize is nowhere to be seen! Dimitria, think! We almost had his power under our control! Where could he have gone?"

Her prize? 'Under control'? What did that mean?

Suddenly, he heard Ramona stop breathing. There was silence.

"Ryyeee…" he heard her call out. "I can hear you, darling. Come on out from behind that thatching. I can explain."

Rye didn't know what to think. Was there possibly a good explanation for what he had seen? If she had lied to him about whose blood they drank, did she lie to him about his blood not smelling delectable to them? Was he in danger?

Suddenly, Ramona was behind him, on the ground, her face contorted in a snarl.

Rye yelped, before leaping forward. Ramona leapt at the same time, reaching out as if to catch him. His wings shimmered into existence, and he pumped them, climbing quickly. But Ramona seemed to be faster.

Her hand gripped his tail tightly, and Rye yelped again as he felt his bones beginning to crack under her grip. He looked down, seeing her smiling up.

"I can see that your wings need to be clipped, my sparrow," she purred, beginning to reach upwards. "Escaping was specifically part of rule one!"

But suddenly, his curse had other ideas. For the first time ever, it proved to be of use.

With a light shimmering sound, Rye's tail suddenly disappeared.

Ramona's face was priceless, as Rye shot up into the sky, no longer held down by the adult vampire. She fell to the earth below, cursing as she fell.

Rye didn't stop flapping until he had put so much distance between them, he was sure she wouldn't be able to follow him anymore. His tears fell as he flew. He had lost another family, who had lied to him so thoroughly he didn't know what to think anymore. He was torn apart again, and the hole in his heart was ripped wide open again. He didn't know how to fill it.

His wings carried him as far as they could he recognized the continental United States when he passed overhead. The air around him seemed to buzz with aloofness. The States did not remember the existence of Rye Tanner, nor his peculiar condition. Nobody here knew him anymore.

He settled down in a large tree, and his tail and feet automatically anchored him, like they had that night in the jungle, all those months ago.

He let his emotional shields down and cried. Would there be no one to heal his wounded heart?