Everything in the Twilight realm belong to Stephenie Meyer.

Chapter Nine - Snowed In

The snow was sufficiently bad the next day that school managed to get cancelled. Overnight, at least four feet of snow had managed to plaster the roads. This did not deter my family from outdoor activity. Dad and I in were in bluesy harmony on the piano and harmonica, when Emmett came into the room.

"Rose fixed the snow monster."

The snow monster referred to our large snow mobile that we used when blizzards struck the area. Alice and Rosalie had found it annoying to run with their shopping bags cross country from Quebec and considered it quite out of the question to forgo shopping merely due to inclement weather, so we had gotten the snow monster.

Dad looked up then, "If you hadn't smashed it into those trees, Rosalie wouldn't have had to fix it."

"How was I supposed to know it couldn't eat trees? You've got to admit. It looks like it wants to."

We collectively groaned.

"So how about some skiing, then? The mountains to the north have enough snow on the upper altitudes to give some serious lift off."

I looked up eagerly. Skiing was the closest thing to flying for me. The rest of my family could probably just jump out of an airplane and survive if they wanted to try it out. Given the whole heart beat and need for lungs, I had to ski.

My dad looked torn. As much or more than the rest of us, he loved speed. I could see his mouth twisting in indecision, and I knew we were going.

"I'll get both of ours!" I called as I ran to the garage to collect our equipment.

A half an hour later, we were collected on the summit of a nameless northern mountain. No human could have managed a ski path like this. The powder was too unstable. Avalanches were common, and rocks and trees jutted unevenly along the paths. But we weren't humans. We were vampires, and this was living.

Emmett called us all to order, "First one to the bottom wins. First one to knock an avalanche on Edward wins second place." My dad always won. Emmett hated that.

Esme lightly poked Emmett in the side then.

"Sorry, mom. OK, everybody, game on?"

And then we were off, soaring along the craggy slopes and snow paths. I specifically found a path with a good number of steep drops, so that I could soar through the air for tens of seconds at a time. Rose started out with me, but took a turn to weave among a patch of moguls to the east. I chose to take flight. The blue sky and frosty air bit at my cheeks as I flew down the white expanse. Thin pines and jagged rocks blurred past me.

I heard a cracking as I saw Emmett fly in and out of my view. I laughed as I saw the avalanche appear behind me. Well, Emmett had gotten his avalanche, but it wasn't headed toward my dad, it was chasing me. I purposefully let the avalanche close in a bit before I began weaving in front of it, letting the deep bass of the crashing snow envelope me. This was the better than any music from an instrument—it was nature at her most vicious and beautiful.

I came off another drop and realized I was in some trouble. Another avalanche was coming from the west, and a quick calculation in my brain told me that I was not going to make it. So, I did what I always did when I got caught. I took a deep breath and dove into a patch of powder behind the nearest boulder.

The weight of the wave was upon me then, and I had to dig my fingers into the granite of the boulder to hold my place. After about thirty seconds, the roar subsided, and I began to dig my way out of the layers of snow.

I stood lightly on the snow before going back to dig out my skis. Both were cracked and broken. I groaned. I would have to run down, now. Stupid, stupid Emmett.

I began my swift descent.

I crested the top of the first slope and was beginning to descend when I saw him, in plain view, sitting comfortably on a rock at the base of the slope.

Olivier was staring up at me. A cocky smile spread across his face. "I found you."

My intuition flickered. "You caused that second avalanche, didn't you?"

"I had to find some way to get you alone."

"To use your own words, a little rude, don't you think? I cracked both of my skis."

"I am sorry about interrupting you. You did look like you were enjoying yourself."

"I was."

"Why don't you come closer, my little friend?"

I was not coming closer. I had the high ground. He had the low ground. Also, his voice sounded just like the tone Jake had used when he had dressed up as the conniving grandma wolf for our Little Red Riding Hood stunt.

"I'm fine here, thanks."

He laughed. "You have nothing to fear, you know? I came to apologize, actually."

"Apology accepted. I'm still leaving."

"I also came to make a confession."

"Oh, really, well, I'm no priest, so you'll have to look elsewhere."

"You are sassy, aren't you?"

I grimaced at him.

He chuckled again. "That's okay. I like it."

"Don't care."

I heard the call, then, from the base of the mountain, "Renesmee" floated on the wind up the mountain. My family was calling me.

"Ah, Renesmee. Now I know your sweet name. And now I must make my confession. You see, Renesmee, since I last saw you, I've been unable to stop thinking about you. You made an indelible impression on me.

He paused, before staring me straight in the eyes. "I want you. I want you to come with me. Now."

I was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. "Sorry, Olivier, you're not my type."

"You can't be sure about that. What do you think your type is Renesmee? Some weak human?"

My face noticeably reddened then, but not from embarrassment. I was angry. "What right do you have to question me about anything?"

"I claim no right. In fact, after our most recent encounter, I decided persuasion was the best tactic. You, my sweet, can conjure up quite the image with that little talent of yours. I have merely chosen to be forthright with my affections. But I will also say this: don't even think about playing romance with one of your little high school Ken dolls. I will take them down one by one."

I gasped and stared at him. "Is that a threat?"

He didn't acknowledge my question. "You will want me, too. You will be mine."

He was up the slope, then. I tried running, but he was faster. He grabbed my jacket.

"Stop running away. I wanted to give this to you."

He held a slip of paper in his hand. "My number," he stated, unzipping one of the side pockets of my jacket and slipping it in. "Modern custom and all." He cackled.

"Now, I must be off now. I think your coven misses you already."

And then he was running again, his feet barely hitting the snow as he raced down and through the valley to the west.

I opened my pocket and stared at the number. On one hand, I could not help but feel the strange compliment in the gesture, and on the hand, the thought of Olivier made me shudder. He was not like my family. He hunted humans, and I knew that when he spoke of intentions, he did not speak of real affection. He spoke of fascination, attraction, and possession.

I shuddered and slipped the paper fragment back in my zipper pocket, promising myself that once I returned home, I would burn it.