AN: A massive thank you to my reviewers; Guest, roganjalex, CaliNative76, sarahmicaela88, Anony, Taino Delsan13, and Wolf Born Woman, your reviews always bring a smile to my face and brighten the stress of occasional writer's block, so thank you so much for taking the time to read and review my fanfic!
To Guest, Jacob will definitely be coming back into the story soon, I promise (after all, this is a Bella and Jacob fanfic), but there are just a couple of things I need to finish laying out before his return, sorry he's not been in the story for a while, I miss him too.
Read and Review Please!
Song suggestion: My Blood, Ellie Goulding.
Chapter Twenty Seven: The Lone Wolf Howls Alone.
Leah left as the clock pointed to her curfew and I watched her leave into the thunder and rain. The storm was raging, never pausing for breath, never pausing to let us out. It was relentless and dismal, hope crushing, and I went to bed with the wind lashing at the roof.
I tossed and turned, my sheets twisting around my legs, capturing me in nightmares. Nightmares that had haunted me for weeks now. Of Sam. Sam in the forest, lost. Sam being attacked by the beast, bleeding. Sam lying dead in the roots of the trees, never to be found. My own mind attacked my emotions; fear, longing, grief, panic, and hope. Hope constantly holding me up. Hope pulling me out of my nightmares into the early morning gloom.
Sitting up in bed, I racked my hands through my knotted tangles of hair and took several calming breaths. The storm still howled and battered the house Sam and I had built up together. Every room lovingly restored, made in the image of happiness. And now reminding me of everything I had lost. Huffing to myself in frustration, I kicked my way out of my sheets and marched downstairs.
My nightmares caused insomnia, with the only relief to be busy. Always busy, distracting me from the hour and memories. Surveying the living room, I debated which part of the spotless room needed obsessively cleaning. Which piece of furniture could I attempt to scrub away the memories from.
But as I reached for the blanket folded over the back of the couch, I heard a familiar noise. One I'd heard so many times in the night recently. A wolf's howl. A lone wolf, howling in the night. In the state of Washington, covered in trees and wilderness, wild animals were expected. Some residents even kept guns, though animals rarely attacked humans in these parts. Sam kept a gun under the sink for emergencies, though neither of us had more than one lesson from Harry on how to use it properly.
Wrapping the blanket around my shoulders to ward of the ever present Washington state chill, I tiptoed to the door and peered out the little window in the door. I couldn't see the wolf, but it'd sounded so close and so sad and lonely, I felt compelled to look for it. There was a dull thud, barely audible in the storm, and I dismissed it as a tree felling from the devastating power of the wind and rain.
I waited for the wolf to howl again, as it often did, calling several times in the night to it's pack that never answer back. But it was silent. Minutes passed as I stood there, but I couldn't hear anything over the thunder. Concluding the wolf must have bunkered down for the sodden night, I moved away from the door, deciding I need to sleep more than the house would ever need cleaning again.
The house's silence seemed to echo in my head as I lay back in my bed. If Sam had been here, he would have told me tales of the Tribe. Legends of the Great Spirit Warriors and the wolves that protected the Tribe. Stories we had grown up with, laced with magic and mystery. Childhood bedtime tales, capturing a child's obsession with the mystical. But no one told me the Tribe's myths now, I didn't believe in them anyway, but their warm, comforting memories of youth were missed as I lay cold and alone.
But as I lay there, contemplating the legends in the company of my own shadow, I heard the house creaking. Our house was made of wood, and often made sounds as it settled, but not like the noise I heard. The brief, but clear, sound of the wood being moved. Like the opening of a door in a horror movie. Fear seized my heart. Sam's gun lay in the kitchen and I was defenceless up here alone. Memories of Sam's promises to always protect me passed through my mind, reminding me of how we would defend each other and keep the other safe and happy. But now I had no one, there would be no saviour as I had in the past. I was so very alone and afraid.
Tightening the blanket around me, trying to calm the frightened shivers that wracked my body, I slipped out of my bed. Cautiously listening to the most subtle of sounds, trying to detect any more suspicious noises over the loud sounds of the storm raging outside, and echoing inside. Keeping my breathing calm and deep, I shuffled over to my bedroom door and pressed my ear against it. But no noise penetrated the wood.
Easing the door handle down, I inched it open, just enough to squeeze through. Again, I wished Sam was here. He'd wander sleepily out of his room, yawning with the worst bed hair anyone had ever seen, and laugh at me. We laughed often together, enjoying the sound of happiness that came with our freedom. And after laughing at me, he'd joke about me being scared of shadows and none existent bumps in the night, sending me back off to bed with a reassuring, yet teasing smile. However, Sam was not here, and I wasn't imagining noises in the night. In this moment, I was alone to handle whatever thing had made that suspicious noise, most probably a stray animal trying to get in, to shelter from the storm.
Crouching down on the stairs, I peered through the railings, and the shadow tainting the floor below caused my breath to catch in my throat. I clutched the blanket closer defensively and slowly descended the stairs, keeping low and quiet. Preparing myself to snatch the telephone and call the emergency services. Preparing to defend the sanctuary Sam and I created together. Preparing for anything at all that could happen next.
But I was not prepared for what I saw and my face fell in disbelief.