Discovery

I was very scared. I was terrified. I was shaking with fear.

I was in a cabin. Wooden, painted red on the outside. I was in a closet-like room, tiny. There was a double bed that took up 90% of the room. There was barely enough space to move around the edges.

I was squeezed into the corner under the window, as far away from the door as possible. I barely had room to breathe, but I stayed there, unmoving and silent.

Someone came in. "Come on," they said. So I went.

I struggled out of the corner and climbed over the bed to follow him into another tiny room with a small old-fashioned telly and a faded two-seater sofa.

The bronze man sat down. "So..." said Sam, the leader of our opposition.

"What do you know about the Cullens' strategy?" asked another, a big, angry-looking one.

I was too frightened to say anything. I stood still, my feet together and my right hand resting on my left elbow.

"WELL! What are they up to!" the angry one asked. I flinched back and bumped into the back wall.

"Calm down, Paul," said an old wise voice. "Now, Zoey, we would simply like to know what the Cullens and the other wolves are planning so we can settle the matter without killing them and let you go. So what do you know?"

"Uh... I-I d-don't... know an-nything..." I stammered, tripping over the words.

"LIAR!" burst out the angry one, Paul.

"Paul!" two voices cried together; Sam and the old man.

He was in a wheelchair, the old man, and his broad, native face overflowed, his cheeks resting on his wide shoulders. "Now," he continued, "if you don't know anything, tell us why." He was obviously trying to sway me, but I had already though about this.

"I'm n-not fighting. And, I can sleep. Vampires can't u-usually s-sleep b-b-but I can, so I was p-prob-bab-bly asleep. I was unc-concious for a c-couple of d-days," I stammered again.

"Right," said the old man, disbelievingly and irritably.

"Who-who are you?"

"I'm Billy Black," he paused uncomfortably, "I'm Jacob's father."

I couldn't help myself. I shouted. "How could you do this to him? How could you go against your own son? HOW COULD YOU HURT HIM?"

The angry one, Paul, who had been shaking and convulsing throughout my outburst, exploded into a huge ball of fur, taking up most of the small room, and hit me. The strike slashed halfway across my chest reopening an old scar so that it split all the way across my chest.

And I bled. A lot.

The Quileute's couldn't hinder the bleeding, though they redressed it every two hours, and I grew weaker and weaker. I ended up having to drink the blood I'd lost (and that is not nice when you think about it: in principle) to regain my strength, but it still slipped away, seeming just out of reach.

I hated it on the Quileute reservation. There was no homey feel, no welcoming atmosphere, not like with the Cullen's house. It was empty. There was no happiness, nothing but the air I breathed.

But while I was there, I continued to hear voices.

Those I loved.

It confused me at first. I had never really loved anybody, nor had anybody ever loved me, but it did not make me feel good. It confused me. It drilled through my mind. Love. How should... could... I love?

It was the Cullens. I really heard them, having conversations about me. How they would save me. How they felt about me.

And Neferet. I was most surprised to hear her voice. She cried. She cried every night. It saddened me so much, to hear her cry for me. And it happened every night, without fail. Grandma was calmer, but I still heard her worry and fret when she met with Neferet, or when she farmed the lavender ready for shipping, and she could smell it at night. She woke and prayed for me, for her 'Zoeybird'.

So I wandered around the reservation day after day, bleeding out. Before long I was bedridden and could no longer eat or drink. Anything that went inside me didn't stay there, and the blood just kept coming and coming and it would not stop. After four days I was pale white and ice cold, and the bleeding started to slow.

This was a bad sign.

On that fourth night, I heard the Cullens conferring, deciding which way of rescue was best. Carlisle thought about sneaking up in the night, but Emmett (who worried most for some reason...) thought they would know that the Cullen had crossed, and would track them down. He thought they should go early morning as quickly as possible (no creeping as Carlisle suggested (typical)) and just grab me.

Whatever they decided I hoped they did it soon. By day five I had lost all of my senses, and my limbs up to my elbows and knees were completely white, almost blue. Chalky pale. Ice cold. Dying.

Then they appeared.

Apparently.

I woke up in that king size bed I was all too familiar with, sitting bolt upright.

Then Emmett mystically appeared above me and I laid back and screamed. There was no sound. There was just the screeching and rasping of my throat.

"Hey, hey!" Emmett calmed and soothed, until I turned my head sideways, coughing and spluttering and choking on the dryness of my windpipe.

"It's okay!" he said, whispering and murmuring sweet nothings to calm me down and stop my spasm.

When I eventually calmed down, he pulled me into his arms, with my legs over his left arm and my back resting against his right. He held me there while I cried out of shock, until I stopped, then he set me down on the bed so we were facing each other, inches apart.

"You're awake," he said quietly (for him).

"No, I'm actually sleep-talking... and crying and choking."

"But of course."

"Naturally," I said raising my eyebrows and we burst out laughing, but it hurt my chest so I ended up coughing again, and Emmett patted my back to help me.

"How long was I out this time?" I asked warily.

"About a week, but Carlisle had to operate, so that's not surprising," he said, looking down as though my pain hurt him, like we were connected.

I pulled forwards my pyjama top to find a neat white bandage and tape covering my cut. It formed a sort of vest, making me look like a mummy from the base of my neck to the bottom of my ribs.

"I'm so sorry," he said, sounding as though he might cry.

"Don't be, it wasn't your fault."

He took me in and held me in a soft, tender embrace, keeping me there like he'd never let me go. He held me like this for a long time; he was comfortable, if a little cold.

Then he pulled us apart, holding me at arm's length. His eyes locked on mine and we stared at each other in a silent, heart-wrenching moment.

And we kissed.

He kissed me softly, yet passionately; gently, yet lovingly; lightly, yet heavily. It was perfect. Before I knew it I had latched onto him, my fingers tangling in his hair, and my body pressing against his, rather... implicating... ly.

I think we may have kissed for quite a while, but we gradually pulled away, in perfect synchronisation with each other.

I smiled, and let out a little giggle. He smiled back and chuckled. There was a short pause, and we erupted into a huge fit of laughter, throwing back our heads and rolling all over the bed, until we ended up pressed together, stomach to stomach, on the huge, cream, king-size bed.

I kissed him tentatively, but he laughed and pulled me close, kissing me roughly, holding me close to him by the small of my back and the base of my neck. He rolled on top of me, but he carried on rolling and fell off the bed. I burst out laughing. What a loose nut!

It was a VERY long time before either of us was calm enough to speak, but eventually he asked if I'd like to go hunt.

I agreed, and we ventured out into the surrounding woods, that were becoming more familiar by the day.

At least I wasn't on that dump of a reservation with a bunch of angry, hormonal, teenage werewolves.

As we hunted (still messily) some elk in the woods, I heard the voices again, and froze.

"I'm worried about her. She's struggling. I mean she nearly died from a cut, how can we put her against some werewolves?" It was Carlisle.

"We need her! She's still fast and she's still strong!" Jasper.

"Are you okay?" Emmett asked softly, bringing me back to earth. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Um… something like that, I guess…" I drifted off, listening in on the Cullens' conversation again.

"You saw what Edward did to her, what the wolves did! She can get hurt, she can die! She's not like us and it's our job to protect her!" Carlisle. It brought tears to my eyes to know how much he cared for me, though he'd only known me for a short while.

"Zoey? What's the matter?" Emmett sounded very concerned and worried about me, which made a few traitor tears spill over.

"I… don't think I'm crazy, okay? Just… I hear things. I keep hearing voices. The voices of your family, and of my family back home."

"Really… you hear people's thoughts?"

"No… I can listen in on conversations where they're worried about me, where they're unhappy."

"I think you may have a special power!" he was glowing. He was truly delighted for me. I wasn't.

"Why is this such a good thing? I mean… isn't it like eavesdropping?"

"You can hear voices! I mean… It's your own special gift," he said, beaming again.

"They're worried about me. Carlisle says I can't fight… I'll get hurt-"

"You will! He's right! You can't fight a bunch of wolves, they'll kill you!"

"But Jasper thinks I should. He says I'm super fast and super strong, and I should be able to handle it."

"No. No, I won't let you!"

"Emmett, it's okay, calm down."

"But they'll hurt you, Zoey," He said, sounding close to tears.

"I…" would they? Could I do it? Did I want to do it? "Um… I…"

"Hey, it's okay, we'll figure something out," he said consolingly, though he sounded unsure.

And so we continued with our hunt, and I even found a mountain lion – carnivores are much nicer than plant eaters. They drink the same blood we need, and it tastes a lot better, too.

Neither of us said a word on the subject as we finished and went back to the house.

Once we got in, Emmett went upstairs as I stayed down, preparing another meal for myself – a human one (I didn't drink much blood – Emmett had the bulk).

I sat on the comfy cream couch while everyone else bustled about doing their own thing: Alice was arranging flowers in to twinkling crystal vases; Esme was polishing all the shiny surfaces; Bella was playing a game with Renesme and Edward; Emmett was upstairs; Jasper was out and Carlisle was sat at the computer.

"It's not such a bad thing, you know."

I let out a small yelp as I jumped at the sound of his voice.

"What's not, Edward?"

"Your power, your gift. It's a good thing."

"I'm not so sure."

"Hey," Bella said walking over, Renesmee on her hip. "What's the matter? You look upset."

"I just-"

"She-"

"Shut up, Edward," said Bella in an exasperated tone.

I felt a strange sense of security and safety around me very suddenly, then Edward rolled his eyes, grinning, and walked away.

"Okay, So," Bella said, comfortable in our little bubble.

"What did you just do?" I asked, amazed.

"Oh, it's my power. I'm a shield, and I've learnt to push it away and protect other people as well."

"Oh."I remembered what Edward had told me a while before. "Yeah."

She laughed. "Hey, it's okay," I wished people would stop saying that! "A gift is a good thing. I managed to save Renesmee from the Volturi, along with many witnesses. It was pretty scary, but there were so many of us the Volturi stopped, and my power kept the 'terrible twins' out."

"Who?"

"The terrible twins, Jane can trick your mind into feeling the most excruciating pain, and Alec can take away all your senses, so you're an easy target. As you may have guessed, they're twins."

"Oh, right."

She laughed again. "They didn't look very pleased!" I laughed with her. "So, what I'm trying to say is, this is a good thing. You're sp-"

"Where's Rosalie?" I interrupted. Admittedly, I wasn't doing too well with the conversation thing anyway, but I didn't want her to say that word. I may have exploded, and I didn't want to hurt her.

"Oh. Uhh... she's gone away for a while, on a sort-of holiday."

"Why?"

"She..." she looked up at me, and a feeling of trust shifted between us. Suddenly, I knew she wasn't lying. "She's upset. She wants a child of her own, a child like Renesmee. She wants to adopt 'cause vampires can't have kids, but Emmett doesn't want that. So she left in a rage. A huge rage."

I instinctively rubbed my stomach. Oh, yeah, I knew this. "Sorry... I think I got anaesthetic amnesia."

She laughed and looked down at the hand on my belly. "Don't worry, with all you can do, I'm sure you'll manage well in that department!"

I laughed half-heartedly.

"So, what I'm saying is, you're special, Zoey. You-"

"I don't want to be special anymore!" I shouted, jumping to my feet and alerting the whole family. I even heard Emmett hold still upstairs.

"I'm done with it! I'm special because I've got strange marks, because I saved people, because I'm a new species! I don't want to be any more special than I already am! I want to be normal! I wish I never even got marked!" and I stormed out of the house, my cheeks burning, angry tears in my eyes.

I walked to the river and sat alone, where I had sat with Emmett before. And I cried.

"I'm sorry, Nyx," I said aloud. "I'm glad I got marked. I'm supposed to be special, I know. I love you. I just miss my home. I miss my high priestess, Neferet. I miss my grandma and all my friends. I miss being close to you. I just... I thought I couldn't be any more special."

The water in front of me rippled, and Nyx appeared in my reflection. "Trust in yourself Zoeybird. You are close to me always, and right now you need your new friends. They love you, and I know you love them, too. Believe in yourself, Zoeybird."

"But, Nyx, I-" I tried to talk to her image, but it rippled and became my reflection again.

I knew she was right, and when I saw her fade into me, I knew she trusted me, and so I trusted myself from then on. I believed in my Goddess, as she believes in me.