Peace reigned in Forks for months following our discovery of the werewolves' return. School gossip moved past the three untimely deaths at last. The bereaved families recovered from their loss, as humans will. Even Charlie Swan, overcome by heartbreaking grief, gradually began to heal. He spent a great deal of time with his closest friends, both of them residents of La Push: Billy Black, and Sue Clearwater, the widow of the deceased Harry Clearwater, who now lived alone with her son and daughter. I could hear in Charlie's mind that he found these visits comforting; these were people who had known Bella, at least when she was younger, and whom he could talk to freely. Billy, he felt, was just a good person to have around when you felt bad. As for Sue, she had recently experienced a loss as well, which made it only natural to support each other; and Charlie took it on himself to fill in and do some of the things Harry would have taken care of, minor repairs and car maintenance and such. I took these thoughts at face value, but Jasper read it differently. "Billy Black is a friend, period," he agreed, "but Sue Clearwater is another matter. He's interested in her."

"She's a very recent widow," I objected, "and Chief Swan isn't really himself again."

"No, it's not really a conscious thing. If it were, you'd have heard it yourself. After some time's passed, though, they'll probably get together as a couple."

I was skeptical. Jasper often gave his ability to read emotions more significance than my mind-reading. "Anybody want to lay bets on it?" Emmett asked.

One mystery was cleared up fairly soon. Alice was able to determine the source of her blind spots: the werewolves themselves. We began to suspect it after she realized she was unable to see the future of many residents of La Push, even after it became clear that the nomads were long gone. She experimented with following the future of anyone headed toward the reservation - most often Chief Swan. His future would disappear while he was on his way there, then return when he left for home. We finally managed to narrow it down, and came to understand that, for whatever reason, Alice could not see the future of the wolves, nor of anyone immediately connected with them. We thought Alice would find this annoying, but she was relieved that her gift had not abandoned her, but was merely blocked by a single group of anomalous beings. "It won't even matter, once we leave Forks again," she said cheerfully. "I'll just have to work around it for now."

Spring came to Forks, bringing slightly warmer weather but more rain and even more consistently overcast skies, uncongenial to the humans but ideal for our purposes. As the wildflowers began to bloom, I found myself spending more time outdoors. I could not enjoy the changing seasons as humans did, who felt the climate grow more friendly to their temperature-sensitive bodies, but I retained a love of natural beauty for its own sake, and it often lifted my spirits to spend time outdoors, not hunting, but simply wandering through the wilderness. At home, I continued with my personal project of working through the small personal library of Isabella Swan. I was reading my way through the books I'd found in her room, taking my time with it; and when I listened to music, it was usually selections from her bedroom playlist. Eventually it found its way into my own music: when I played the piano, I would sometimes attempt my own arrangement of something I'd heard on CD. I even began composing again, just a little, doing variations on Bella's music collection, or combining pieces from different genres in a unique fusion. This gave Esme a great deal of pleasure; I heard her thoughts, which rejoiced that I was not only spending more time at my piano, but had returned to composing, which I'd abandoned years before.

On a clear, sunny Saturday, I took some time away from the family and climbed to my meadow. The clearing was blooming with wildflowers, the sun made patterns on the mountainside, and I revelled in its peaceful beauty, slowly walking the circumference of the area, taking in every detail. I began to hum a tune, a simple folk song that had been on one of Isabella Swan's tapes, then began singing the words. I realized how long it had been since I'd sung for pleasure. I would join in when the family sang together, whether accompanying the radio in the car or just for fun when gathered at home, but not by myself, not for ages. I sang the song again, with more gusto and feeling. I recalled the few classical vocal recordings on the mix tapes; she had no serious opera recordings, but apparently was able to enjoy some lighter material. The wistful lyrics of Gira Con Me ran through my head. I paused to listen, both for sounds and for thoughts, until certain I was completely alone; no one, human or otherwise, was within hearing distance. Still a little self-conscious, I began to sing, effortlessly imitating the voice on the recording. Then, finding that the song spoke to me, I sang it once again, this time in my own voice, loudly and freely, allowing myself to emote without inhibition, both vocally and through gesture. I automatically translated the lyrics to myself as I sang: I follow your heart, and I follow the moon…it is you who wander with me tonight… Letting myself give forth this way, the sweet music and the sentimental words, seemed to satisfy something inside me; it was unexpectedly cathartic. I concluded and stood still a moment, prey to a strange mixture of feelings, desperately sad, and as lonely as I'd felt in a hundred years; and at the same time filled with a kind of exultation.

I returned home to find some of the family discussing the upcoming graduation, and the time afterward. The allegedly older students would graduate this year, while Alice and I had another year at Forks High School yet to go. That would give the graduates a year's worth of cover story to fill in.

"Out picking daisies in your meadow again?" Rose asked as I came in, in a tone that was not quite sneering, more like tolerantly amused.

"What's the plan?" I asked, overlooking Rosalie's question. It seemed even easier than usual to ignore her; my musical indulgence, and the strange emotional release that came with it, had left me in a distinctly calm frame of mind, like the quiet atmosphere following a thunderstorm. I did briefly wonder, not for the first time, what on earth Carlisle had been thinking, in supposing Rosalie might have been a suitable mate for me. I'd learned to get along with her - most of the time - but we were as mismatched as two people can possibly be.

"We're still working on it," Emmett told me. "Jasper's staying put to be with Alice, and we were talking about some story about his taking a year off, or doing online courses at home. But Rose and I, we might go to college in Seattle, so we'd be close to home; or else maybe use the extra year to take a trip together." They had, of course, already been accepted at the University of Washington, along with other institutions, just to leave their options open.

"Still not sure how much longer we can hang on here?" I asked.

Alice replied, "I've looked ahead as far as I can, and I don't see any serious problem about our age for the next two years. But I doubt we can push it too far beyond that. There are already a lot of comments about Carlisle looking too young to be a surgeon; it can only get worse."

These were concerns we'd gone over many times before, but I felt a reluctance to consider leaving the area. "Your expertise keeps us plausibly aging, though."

She smiled at that. "I can only do so much."

"I know we'd all like to stay on as long as possible," Esme said, "given the weather here, but of course security comes first."

"If anyone's attending university nearby, it would be nice if they could graduate before we move on," I suggested.

Carlisle replied, "It would, of course. We can make that a tentative goal, if you like."

I nodded calmly, but was inordinately pleased that we might extend our residence here. The peaceful mood I'd been coasting on since my outing remained intact. Jasper gave me an odd look, but revealed nothing in his thoughts.

The year ground slowly onward. Prom posters appeared on the walls of the school corridors, leading to a great deal of intense speculation, and many of the girls breathlessly wondering if the right boy would invite her - the boys, meanwhile, working up the courage to invite their preferred girl. "It makes their thoughts even less enjoyable than usual," I grumbled to the others one day at lunch.

"It makes their emotional climate a little uncomfortable as well," Jasper added.

"And there's the spring dance, too," Alice pointed out. "They made that girls' choice, so more drama in the other direction."

"Forks High School's grand gesture toward sexual equality," Rosalie said with a smirk.

"I wish I could just tell them all who's going to ask, and who's going to say yes," Alice sighed.

I laughed. "That might start an entirely new round of drama. Bigger than the last." I picked up thoughts from across the cafeteria. "Oh! Here's something novel! Jasper, you've become someone's secret crush, and are going to be invited to the spring dance by a charming and, I assume, very brave young lady."

"Wow, first time anyone went for Jazzy," Alice giggled. "They're usually terrified of him."

"With good reason," I agreed, and Jasper rolled his eyes.

"Who is it?"

"Amanda Harper."

"Amanda. Another of the most common baby names of the era," Jasper pointed out. "Surprised none of us ever got it."

"I coulda been an Amanda," Alice quipped, in fairly good Anthony Quinn voice.

I laughed even though it was a terrible joke. Jasper cocked an eye at me. "You're in a good mood."

"For once," Rosalie muttered.

"Pot, meet kettle," I told her, still smiling. To Jasper I said, "I'm just happy about your growing popularity with the young ladies of Forks High. Spring dance is a magical time." The others were chuckling. "Will you give her a corsage, or just a ten minute head start?"

Jasper finally laughed. "Don't even joke about that!"

Alice glanced around the cafeteria. "Where is the girl with such excellent taste in men?"

"Last table on the right, by the window. The one in green, with the glasses."

"Oh, the little brainiac! The kids make fun of her for being smart."

"It is a disgraceful thing, being smart."

"She's very bright. Explains why she likes Jasper," Alice declared.

"I don't know," Jasper said thoughtfully. "Her feelings are very bitter."

I nodded; little Amanda's thoughts fit in with that assessment. "The young gentlemen have been rather harsh to her in the past. She's thinking that you seem kind and civilized, and at the very worst, will turn her down politely rather than insult her."

"Aww!" Alice exclaimed.

"Very perceptive of her," I noted, "especially since she ought to find him frightening."

"You could accept her invitation," Rosalie suggested impishly, "if you want to be really nice."

"That wouldn't be nice; it would only give her false hope."

"These mixed marriages never work out," Alice agreed.

"Mixed, as in two different species?" Rosalie laughed. "Yeah, that would be a problem."

I agreed, glancing at the hopeful Amanda, in the room with us but separated by an entire universe. More than a problem, love between a vampire and a human would be an abomination. At least Tanya and her sisters only loved 'em and left 'em, rather than ever choose to keep one of their men as a permanent mate. Who could bring himself to impose our way of life on a living, breathing human being? Especially on one that he loved. I turned away, back to my own universe, and changed the subject.

Final exams came and went. We agreed, for the sake of realism, to get at least one question wrong on each test, and two wrong on an exam in one, pre-selected subject. Emmett found it amusing to include not merely wrong answers, but ridiculous ones, such as naming Emily Dickinson as the author of Ulysses. Carlisle warned him to avoid anything too obviously deliberate, but his sense of humour ended up earning him an overall grade average of A, rather than the A+ usual for all of us. I laughingly berated him as the family dunce for weeks.

Rose, Emmett, and Jasper all graduated at the end of the year. We all attended the ceremony, cheered as each of them crossed the stage of the school auditorium to receive their diplomas, pretended to take pictures. We did not, however, join in any student celebrations; it was just part of maintaining our cover story. Not that any of us were keen on mingling with the crude, insecure, maladroit teenagers in our class for two hours of mediocre music, bad dancing, and appetizing smells, not to mention, in some cases, having to share their thoughts or emotions for longer than was absolutely necessary. Alice insisted on giving a graduation party, just for the family, but that was a different sort of event altogether. For one thing, the Denalis were invited.

It was an enjoyable gathering, all in all. Everyone had ample access to others with similar tastes and interests, so conversation was ongoing, with plenty of argument as well as laughter. Once we had caught up on news from both clans, Alice started the music. With eleven of us present, some of the older guests were able to enjoy a proper dance, according to their centuries-old lights, and we obligingly formed groups to perform the dances from each individual's earlier years, from the very ancient, winding and swaying dances that were once used to worship Apollo, to the medieval Estampie, all the way to the square dances Emmett had vague recollections of, to Esme's beloved waltz, and finally moving on to Alice's favourite, 1950s jitterbug, at which she excelled.

Tanya made a point of dancing with me, or alongside me, at every opportunity. I was happy to oblige. It was an odd thing: maybe it was the time apart, or maybe it was the unusual moods I'd gone through recently, but my feelings for Tanya, vague and uncertain at the best of times, had resolved themselves. It wasn't that I liked her less, or more for that matter. It was that the slight, nervous feeling that had been associated with her earlier flirtation - the feeling, as I'd described it to myself, of my lock being not-quite-successfully jimmied - was entirely gone. I felt utterly, blithely secure from Tanya's efforts. It made her company more enjoyable. In fact, I spent a great deal of time with her, laughing at her jokes and making her laugh in return, dancing, of course, reminiscing, and enjoying whatever games and competitions the families came up with. It was when we were all totting up how many graduations each of us had experienced over the years, and who had the greatest number of bogus diplomas over all, that I picked up on something in Tanya's mind. My behaviour, I was alarmed to realize, had made her hopeful. She was wondering whether I was reconsidering my refusal. I was genuinely sorry; I had not intended to give her the wrong impression.

As the evening wore on, I became aware that I was rousing speculation in others as well. My family had noticed how genial and comfortable I had become with Tanya's company, and drawing the wrong conclusion, were watching us with various emotions: hopefulness and kind concern from Carlisle and Esme; amusement from Rosalie; slightly ribald speculation from Emmett. They recalled Alice's fuzzy, long-ago prediction that I would be meeting my mate before long, and wondered if Tanya was the one after all. Alice…was thinking of other things, rather deliberately it seemed to me. Only Jasper, who could read my emotions, was under no illusion that my feelings for Tanya had deepened; that, in fact, I had simply settled into a truly brotherly relationship with her. I glanced at him and, reading my concern, he thought Don't worry. I'll make it clear to them. I glanced at Tanya, and he smiled slightly and added, You're not breaking her heart, if that's what is distressing you. It's a casual thing for her. I'll make it clear to her, too, if you want. I gave him a quick nod and smile of thanks - and went on dancing.

The Denali stayed on with us for a few days. Eleazar assessed Alice's gift, confirmed what we had already concluded: that her foresight was rock-solid. We talked over the working theory that the werewolves were responsible for blocking it. Fascinated, Eleazar requested a trip to the boundary line, and Tanya and Kate asked to go along; but we were concerned that the treaty may not cover anyone outside our family, even fellow vegetarians. Accordingly, Carlisle and I approached the boundary line one evening. As expected, our presence was detected, and we were shortly approached by Sam, another burly young man, and to our surprise, a woman, perhaps twenty, her beauty marred by a furious scowl. She hated and resented vampires more, even, than the others.

Sam stepped forward and addressed us with brusqueness that did not quite become discourtesy. "What's up?"

Carlisle spoke to him. "Good evening, Sam. We wanted to ask your position on other visitors of our kind to the area."

They all looked surprised. "You know how we feel about that. You guys are exempted because you don't kill humans - for now, anyway. That doesn't apply to anyone else, even if they're friends of yours."

"I understand, but this is another family who do not hunt humans, and have not for many years."

Sam tilted his head curiously. "There are others?"

"Not many, but yes. There are five of them, and they were hoping to stay with us for a few days - provided you will grant them safe passage."

"You say they never hurt humans?"

"Yes. No more than we do. They are quite safe."

Sam looked as if he would dispute that, but he merely said, "Okay, I guess we can put up with that for a few days. They're not thinking of moving here, are they?"

"No."

"Fine. But how would we know them from the regular vampires?"

"By their eye colour, mainly. A vampire who takes human blood has red eyes. Our friends' eyes are like ours."

"Light brown, like that?" Sam looked from Carlisle to me. "All right. Make sure they know not to go on Quileute land."

"We will. Thank you, Sam."

He began to turn away, then paused. "Your friends - they arrived in the area a couple days ago, didn't they?"

Carlisle nodded. "I must admit, they did. We thought it would be acceptable if they kept to our house. I apologize for not giving notice."

Sam merely grimaced, and the young woman's scowl intensified, and they ran off. "How did they know Tanya's family were already here?" I asked.

"I'm not sure. Perhaps they picked up the scent at some point."

We returned home, bringing the curious back to the boundary. Eleazar, using his unique skill, observed as Alice scanned the futures of various people in the community, then attempted to see people we knew were on the reserve. "Yes, I see it," he murmured. "It is not a gift of theirs, however; not in the usual sense. They are not deliberately blocking your vision. It is merely that they are not there to see."

"Beg pardon?" Alice replied.

"Well, they are there, of course; physically present. But their existence as werewolves seem to place them outside your reach, in another dimension. For the purposes of your vision, they are not there. You say they consider their changed selves to be 'spirit warriors'?"

"That's the way they have traditionally described it, yes," Carlisle replied. We began our run back to where we'd parked our cars, arriving there in minutes.

"It may be more accurate than one would think. Alice does not see them, for the same reason she does not see ghosts."

"Ghosts don't exist," Alice replied, frowning.

Eleazar smiled at her. "For the sake of the discussion, if ghosts existed, they would not exist in our world, in our dimensions. These wolves seem to share that quality. That is my best assessment, at least."

"So fascinating!" Carlisle exclaimed. He was about to continue, but as we reached the clearing that held our vehicles, Kate suddenly uttered a soft "Oh!"

Tanya whirled to look at her. "Kate? What's…?" She followed the direction where Kate was pointing, off into the woods. We all looked. In the far distance a figure was standing, perfectly still, against the treeline, apparently watching us. The wind blew a gust toward us, and we picked up the scent. It was not human.