His feet pounded the ground with frightening ferocity while unbidden images flit across his awareness in quick succession: toddler Alice gripping his pinkie as they lay shoulder to shoulder in her tiny bed, Isabella's single dimple mocking him after a pathetic joke, Carlisle's blue eyes landing on his sunken face for the first time, Eva's blood-speckled golden hair—

Edward collapsed onto his knees. The dew-damp grass soaked through his clothing as he fought to regain his bearings, but the blood continued its noisy rush through his ears. The air thickened and the weight of it pressed his body forward until his back curved and his forehead banged against the dirt.

He could smell it. The dirt and sweat and blood invaded his nostrils, lifting the dust from the past—swirling it—blowing it up—

And within seconds of attempting to repress it, the memory overtook him.

He was huddled inside the closed dumpster, his whimper echoing around him. And for the millionth time on that ravenous evening, he felt centuries younger than the thirteen-year old adult he strove to become.

The noises outside escalated in pitch. Two gunshots rang. A pause. A third gunshot pierced the night.

"The first two were for bruising my balls. The last one was for good measure," a man's voice hissed.

Edward shivered, sinking further into the black bags beneath him. He knew being seen would only invite death. Yet he also worried for the dying body surely resting mere feet away. Finally, he heard footsteps pattering away from the soulless scene, and after a couple minutes, he propped the top of the dumpster up a crack. A peek proved the armed man had left, while the victim still breathed.

The boy jumped lithely from the stench-ridden space into the darkness of the world and kneeled by the unnaturally bent form of a woman. Blood seeped from the visible holes in her torso and chest. Torrents of the liquid had already pooled around her.

"I'll go get someone," he whispered shakily.

A hand reached out with unexpected energy and gripped his wrist lightly. Somehow, Edward silenced the scream bubbling within.

"No," the woman, or girl, said. "Seconds left. Stay."

Edward looked into her face for the first time. Skin a stark-white—her eyes a pale blue—her lips chapped from the cold. The look she wore was of desolation and unspeakable pain.

He knew. She was kin.

So he lay his long form beside her. One hand reached for her cold one and held tightly. A bloodstained gray scarf around her neck dipped into the frozen blood around them. She stared at him, the ghost of a frown playing on her lips.

"Eva," said the almost-corpse.

"Eva," he responded, "you're almost there."

Her eyes remained open as he watched them grow blind.

Dripping sweat, Edward pushed himself off the grassy ground of the deserted sidewalk. The sun shone nauseatingly on his face, and he felt parched. But as his head lifted, he realized he faced an alleyway. Irrational terror shivered up his spine, just as he tamped it down.

Even more irrationally, he decided to enter the darkened space. If he could not fight intangible fears, then he would damn well face the tangible ones with his back straight and his blood calm.

The air in the alley stank of criminality and spilled liquor. And as he stood considering the eerily familiar dumpster before him, a furry head burst forth from between the overflowing black bags. Edward's lips curved upward as a baby beagle cocked its brown and white head.

He stepped forward and pulled a dirty chicken bone out of the puppy's mouth. He felt surprised at how easily the dog submitted, and he replaced the trash with the meat from the sausage sandwich in his pocket. Floppy ears waving, the little creature tore the food apart in seconds.

"Another stray," he said. "Well, you've found the right guy."

He lifted the trembling little body from the filth and held it under his jacket, feeling it curl trustingly against his warm stomach.

Edward stepped into his room and watched Jasper's eyes take in their new roommate. To his, or more correctly, her credit, Isabella only seemed shocked for a moment. Then her eyes melted.

"Only the guys on the team can know," she said, referring to the housing policy against pets.

Edward nodded and entered the bathroom to wash up his new pal.

"Jasper, what are you doing for the Thanksgiving break?" he called to her as the faucet water warmed.

She came to stand in the doorway and leaned against the doorjamb. "Well, all I know is that I'll be staying here. It's only a couple days of vacation. And home would be boring since my sister is going to Vegas with her friends. "

"Yeah, she told me," said Edward, amused. He stoppered the sink and placed the squirming beagle in the growing pool of water. With a bar of scented soap, Isabella scrubbed the brown and white head. She noted the adorable black fur on the tips of the pup's overlong ears.

"I think he's enjoying it," she chuckled, watching his lolling tongue and wagging tail with interest.

Edward's gaze remained on her gentle hands as they cared for the hungry, trembling creature—his canine doppelganger, really—and remembered how she had soothed him when he was little and hungry by bandaging his knee.

Odd, he thought, how the tiniest moments could mean as much as the life-shattering ones.