Note: Brielle August is my character. Everyone and everything else Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer. Tis a work of fiction, but of course, you all knew that!

One

Cold

God, what happened? Am I alright? Why is it so cold? I can't feel my legs . . .

The car . . . the car wrecked . . .Oh my God . . . I can't be dead, can I? Is this what dead feels like? But I'm so cold . . .

This can't be Heaven. . .

I believe in God . . .

I know I do.

I couldn't say I knew exactly what I was thinking. My head hurt, my arms and legs were both numb, and I was absolutely freezing. Something bad had happened . . . something really bad. I tried to slow down my heart beat, but it felt as though it were still in my throat. Something else in the back of my mind was struggling to get out . . . whatever it was made me miserable, I knew that much.

If I could just open my eyes . . .

I felt my fingers grip the frozen earth beneath me, which made a painful vibration spread up my arm and through my neck. I heard myself moan and soon, I was blinded my whiteness, at least, through one eye. Either I could not open the other or something had happened to it.

Pull it, together Brie, I told myself. I doubted I could walk, but I had to hope that someone would find me.

It was hard to keep from going into a full out panic.

Soon the white light above me faded into a dull, wintry gray and I could make out the tangle of tree limbs and green branches above me. My head swam when I tried to focus to hard though, so I closed my eye and focused on my breathing.

One . . . two . . .In . . . out . . .

I must have dozed off a couple times to the dark recesses of my mind but I had not sense of time or how long I had been asleep. But when I woke up again, I knew I couldn't have been out here long; the cold would have claimed me. Not that I really felt it anymore . . . My thoughts were slow, but clearer than before and I could feel a definite pain in my back that stretched down to my legs. Something subconsciously told me not to move, that it might make things worse.

The wind picked up and I heard myself moan again.

Not knowing what else to do, I tried thinking about what happened before the wreck. Why had the car wrecked? Had I been with my parents or with friends or . . .? My brain suddenly came to a bone chilling halt.

My parents . . .my parents were murdered.

It was all I could think about for a time but I couldn't cry. I could just lay there, numb, trying to collect the rest of what had happened. I had been bound up in the backseat of the car . . . someone else was driving . . . No, there had been two people.

My parents . . .

I was conscience now of the stinging sensation around my wrists and the feeling of something thick and cloth like in my mouth. Whatever it was, it was making my jaw hurt. Resisting the red flags in my head, I squirmed a little and cringed when my shoulder flared with pain. With a sigh, I rested again in silence and kept praying in my head that someone would come.

My prayers were answered a long time later.

I say a long time because I had dozed again and when I woke up, my face and hands were hurting from the cold and though I couldn't see them, I had a feeling they were turning color. But there was something else, something promising.

The feeling of breath on my cheek.

Slowly, my one eye opened, and I cringed at the bright, lingering whiteness. Something warm stepped over me and felt as though a dog were sniffing my face. The image was blurry at first, but there was definitely something in my face. I couldn't raise my hands like I wanted to, to try and touch the face, and when my vision came into better focus, it took all my will not go into panic mode again. It was probably a good thing I was so cold and tired right then, because I was 99% sure that I was looking into the massive face of a big wolf. I blinked at it, and it blinked at me and then it opened its massive maw and began to pant heavily into my face . . . was it . . . smiling?

I moaned again and the big beast shifted off of me, only to be followed by another. This one was brown and seemed sterner than the other, studying me closely and then sniffing my neck. With a grunt it looked at the other wolf and the two kept eye contact for a very long time, with the occasional grunt or whine. The first one looked at me a lot with bright, chocolate eyes, with what I could only associate with sympathy.

If I wasn't the one experiencing this, I would have thought it just some delusional story. But then, perhaps it still was . . .

Meanwhile, despite wondering what the two giant beasts were doing just staring at each other, I started to become more aware of the fact that my sides were warming up and I was regaining feeling in my arms, despite the fact that it was very painful. The two beasts were practically radiating heat. It was . . . beyond my currant state of mind.

Needless to say, I started to drift again . . . and then I heard voices.

"There they are . . . I could smell them from a mile away! I told you!"

"But there's something else . . ."

The only thing my mind could force through this clouding fog was; were the wolves talking?

"Don't try and get out of it . . . a bet's a bet so – oh . . ."

The voice was very clear in my head now, even though I couldn't think of a logical response. I strained to look around with my one eye, blurry as it was, and jumped when a sudden face appeared in my vision.

"Are you still with us?" asked the large male; his skin was pale, his eyes a bright amber and his hair dark. His smile turned his strong face into mischievous grin. "Guess so . . ."

"You frightened her." Said a softer male voice, though his view was out of range from me. "Probably not exactly helpful right now."

The big brown wolf pricked his ears towards that voice and seemed to nod in agreement. I didn't know what it was about the unknown person's voice, but it brought lingering, inner warmth to me . . . like that surge of hope you get when your least favorite teacher hands you a high grade paper. Even better than that. I tried to wiggle my fingers . . . but to no avail. Pain merely spread up through my arm and I moaned again. I cringed as my jaw tingled . . .

"We need to get her help." Said the soft voice again. I heard footsteps and this time saw another face in the small space that was my view. He had a stricken look to him, his eyes were bright and his hair a nice gold. Something told me instantly that I liked him better than the first.

"I vote we call Carlisle." Said a different voice. I didn't recognize this one; it seemed younger, but it was strong still, and had a demanding tone to it.

Funny, I hadn't heard anyone else arrive.

"This isn't exactly a democracy, wolf." Spoke the dark haired boy . . . man . . . whatever he was.

"We found her!"

"Down Seth."

"Sorry Jake . . ."

There were two? Where were these people coming from? Speaking of which, where did the wolves scamper off too and when? Were there even ever wolves at all?

"No," said the calm voice again. "Jacob's right. Think about it; we are far from town for starters and second . . . Can't you smell it, Emmett? She's . . . different . . ."

Yeah, I'd like to tell them. I get that a lot.

The big one, must have been Emmett, leaned down and sniffed along my jaw line. Had I not felt half dead and been bound and gagged I probably would have either slapped him or made a startling, unladylike sarcastic comment, but, as it was . . .

"It's faint," he said, his expression changing dramatically. "But its there. Whatever it is."

Whatever the hell that meant.

"Alright, let's get her back before she gets any colder. She's still mortal." Said Emmett. "Go on and call Carlisle, Jazz, I'm going to look around a bit more. This wreck is a mess . . . reminds me of a rampaging werewolf."

"Ha ha . . ." came a sarcastic reply from somewhere behind me.

Great, I was dealing with a bunch of Dungeons and Dragons nerds and they were calling up one of their buddies. Couldn't they just dial 911 like normal people?

"I called my father," it took me a long time before I realized the one called Jazz was speaking to me. As long he remained in my line of sight, I felt remarkably better. "Don't worry. You'll be safe with us – if it makes you feel better, he is a doctor."

His father?

I felt so much more comfortable now, I could tell I was starting to drift again, but this time it wasn't from the cold or the helplessness. I trusted this strange individual and that alone was enough to let me fall into that dangerous slumber . . . the kind of warm unconsciousness that so many never woke out of.

"It's okay." He said again, touching a trembling hand to my cheek. He must have been cold too. "Go ahead and sleep. You are safe now."

I didn't contemplate anything else. I closed my eye and those were the last words I heard for a long while.

* * *

I was in a house . . . it felt like mine, only I had never seen it before. The man and woman before me seemed familiar, like parents, but their faces were unrecognizable. The man was broad shouldered and wore a suit, though his hair was a silvery blue that clashed with the faded pinstripe he wore. The woman was well muscled, and had stains on her shirt that smelled like oil. She had the looks of a mechanic about her. She gave a devil-may-care grin at me when I looked in her direction. Then the house began to shake and for some reason, I found myself sprinting towards them. The woman's grin faded and she glared at me, but the man held out his arms . . . just before fading away amidst a cloud of ash and smoke.

"You are on your own, Brielle," she said, her eyes hard on mine. I couldn't quite think of their color. Her voice was gentle and at the same time, like iron. The smell of oil and gas was incredibly strong now. "You are and always have been. But you'll return. An orphan always does."

My feet felt frozen to the ground and though I tried to speak, my throat felt clogged and I couldn't breathe. All I could see were the woman's eyes . . . iridescent, fading to black.

"Return."

I gasped as I woke up, my eyes flying open, my body jerking as I struggled to breathe and remember where I was and what I was doing.

Which was, all things considered, stupid.

My chest was on fire, and I don't know what didn't hurt on my body. I did notice one thing however, straight away; I could see out of two eyes.

Sunlight was streaming out above me and I could hear the sounds of shuffling something below me; kitchen pots and pans. It took a moment for my mind to register the smell of baking chicken and when it did register, my stomach respond with a purr. I looked around the room I was in a little more, making note that I had never anything so spotless. The walls bore shelves packed with CD's and the bedroom itself was huge, though not much space seemed to be taken up. The windows were large, expanding the place more. But so far, the most I got was a spectacular view of the ceiling.

I remembered most of the wreck, of the people I had seen. I cast the wolves off to imagination; for all I know they were just dogs. Perhaps the people had been hunters. Whoever those people had been, they had saved me . . . saved my life. I thought for a moment about what had happened, how I had ended up in Washington of all places. A fleeting sense of panic rose in my chest and sent my heart flying.

Those men were still out there.

Before I could register what I was doing, I was pushing myself up, despite the staggering pain in my shoulder. Red flags were waving in the back of my head like crazy but I didn't know what else to do. Linen sheets and a thick comforter slid off of me. Thankfully I was dressed in something different; a very stylish nightgown.

"Oh . . . You shouldn't do that!" said a female's voice . . . a little to late. My head started to spin and my stomach lurched. "Carlisle said you aren't strong enough yet."

I felt a pair of cold hands help me back down and I blinked a few times, trying to see whoever was above me. When the black spots finally faded, a young woman was looking at me a bit too happily. Her eyes were a startling amber color, and her hair was short, dark and feathery. She was practically glowing.

Or maybe it was just the sunlight.

"Hello," she sang. "My name is Alice."

I could only stare stupidly for a moment and then I licked my lips. My mouth was dry and parched. I tried to talk but I ended up coughing like idiot, clutching my chest as I did so. I let her tilt my head up some and press a glass of water to my lips. I all but chugged it down.

"What's your name?" she asked sweetly.

I had never been a people person really, and her cheery attitude was hint enough that she and I were exact opposites. I sighed, casting my eyes around as I debated whether to speak or play dumb.

"Don't worry. You're in safe hands here. You don't have to be afraid of us."

I sighed again. It wasn't them I was afraid of . . . well, at least, they weren't high on my "top worries" list.

"My name is Brielle August."

"Oh that's a pretty name!"

"Call me Brie . . ." I mumbled. I tried pulling the covers back over me. I succeeded in only stressing my shoulder more.

"If you're in pain, we have some –"

"No," I said, before she could finish. Drugs and me never really went well together. They either tended to have the reverse affect or I got all the side affects possible with no help to the pain. I'd done it all.

She was quiet for a moment and when I looked over again, she was gone. I hadn't even heard her leave. With a sigh, I closed my eyes once more.

"So you're my new patient," said a calm, cool collected voice.

I peered through slitted eyes and then opened them wider when a tall, pale face peered down at me. I glared and then raised my eyebrows. He was a doctor? He seemed so young . . . But I remembered what that one person had said, how safe he made me feel. I felt compelled to trust him.

"Alice tells me you like to be called Brie."

"Yes."

"Nice to meet you, you can call me Carlisle. I'll tell you what. You're on the mend now, so by tomorrow, we'll talk more about what you want to do."

"About what I want to do?"

"You can check into the hospital here or –"

"No!" I said sharply. He stared at me; calmly and collectedly. "I mean . . . no . . . I just . . . I don't know."

"Do you want to call to call your parents to tell them you'll be home in a few days?"

I closed my eyes and shook my head, my throat tightening.

"I don't have a home." I could already tell what he was thinking. Runaway. "I just . . . I just want to go."

"Well, that wont be for a while yet." I was surprised that he didn't ask questions. Instead, he stuck a cool hand to my forehead and then lightly pressed his fingers to my throat; checking my pulse I imagine. He pressed my shoulder, checked one my legs. I bit my tongue to hold back the whimpers that wanted to come out. "You're in pretty good shape for someone who took a spill in the snow, but your leg and shoulder are pretty mangled."

"Great." I mumbled.

He smiled at me and I looked away.

"Listen, Brie. It's not hard to guess that something bad happened to you." When I didn't answer, he pushed farther. "Would you like to tell me why my sons found you bound and gagged in the middle of Forks?"

Forks? Where the hell was that? Next to spoons, I suppose . . .

I turned my head away from his compelling gaze, playing it safe for now. In reality I didn't know much, but I hadn't forgotten everything. It didn't mean I wanted to share it though.

"I don't remember being bound and gagged." I said, steadfastly.

"I see." I could tell by the tone of his voice he didn't believe me. "Well, I'll let you rest for now. If you need anything, just call, one of us will come running."

I turned my head so I faced the window again, studying the falling snow as it landed on the green needles of the pines outside. I sighed and refused to say anything else.

"Welcome to the Cullen clan," he said with a little laugh in his voice.

I'm not a runaway . . . I knew that was what he was thinking, and that's all I could think about. I'm not a runaway.

I heard the door shut behind me and knew he was gone. Finally.

He couldn't report me. I wasn't a runaway. I wasn't going back to those damn foster homes.

I was a stray, and I didn't need to be taken care of.