The sun had risen grey early this morning, and I set off in the dim light. All I had was a canvas and leather rucksack I had stolen off of some campers about ten years ago in the Sierras. I contained all of my belongings: a small digital camera, hunting knife, lighter, a hat and gloves.

My clothes were stolen in the dead of night and worn until they were unrecognizable. However, I've always had partialness for jeans, lace-up boots, flannel shirts and bomber jackets.

About mid-morning I arrived in Seattle and Port Angeles that afternoon. Out of breath and aching, I found Forks and caught a scent. It was nostalgic: spices and citrus, sweet as Jacob had always said. Following the scent, I came upon a driveway leading off into the trees. I didn't remember this, but the scent was even stronger there.

It was a house, brown with white accents and strangely modern looking. Parked by the large front porch, were four extremely expensive looking cars. I was tempted to reach out and touch them with my mittened hands, but decided against it. Didn't cars set off some kind of horn when touched?

My legs shook as I stood in front of the door, finger poised on the buzzer. I'd just pushed it. I was now overcome with the sweet scent and whoever was inside had been thrown into a tizzy over the bell. Finally, a few people came to the door.

Two women and a man stood in front of me. The man had cropped blonde hair and golden eyes. The first woman was my height and had chin length black hair. The other was taller with flowing caramel waves. They each had identical golden eyes, like the man's. They were all smartly dressed and looked intimidating;

At least to a girl in a ripped flannel shirt, muddy jeans, fingerless mittens and ratty, shoulder length hair shoved up into her hat. My dark circles were probably black today and I was quaking with fear and anticipation.

"Excuse me," I asked meekly, "Could you help me?"

"Please come in," The man said, "We'll try our best."

The dark haired woman led me into the house, looking at my clothes in disgust. I glared at her and she backed off, muttering: "If you would only take off that hat..."

Rolling my eyes, I yanked off the knit hat, immediately wanting to hide my hair. It was stringy and flat, not having been washed in days. The woman with the caramel hair came over to me and held onto my shoulders. I leaned back, never having been touched that way. She smiled warmly at me, but I tried not to relax much.

"How can we help you, dear?" She spoke, her voice soft like honey. I felt tears come to my eyes as I finally recognized them. Even the others that had been already in the room.

I knew them all.

Suddenly, tears flowed openly down my dirt and blood stained cheeks. Esme, the woman before me, looked shocked.

"Granma?" I choked out, sure about everything and yet nothing.

Her widened. "Renesme?" I nodded. The room burst in excitement again. I couldn't handle the questions, and accidentally screamed.

Clamping my hands over my mouth, my cheeks reddened. I was mortified. Carlisle, the blonde man at the door and my grandfather, led me over into another room, the kitchen, I think. A man and a woman stood solemnly on the other side, hugging.

"Bella, Edward," Carlisle spoke, "Look who came to the door." They looked up and their eyes got wide.

"Renesme?" Bella shouted, rushing and embracing me, kissing my cheeks. "You are Renesme aren't you?" I nodded.

"You're my mom, aren't you...?" I mumbled. The man, Edward, walked up, still examining me closely. I caught his gaze and we held it there. Eyes to eyes.

Approaching hesitantly, I extended my arms halfway and smiled small. His whole face glowed when he smiled back. Edward picked me up, like I remember him doing when I was smaller. I was still crying as I wrapped my arms around his neck.

"Where'd you go, baby girl?" He whispered, rubbing my back and hair.

"I never wanted to leave." I sobbed.

"I know, honey; I know." Bella chimed in, holding my hand as I cried. "Your father and I didn't know what else to do."

"But, but..." I sputtered, "Jacob's dead, mama...He died before we ever got to Rio." My mother looked at me sadly and my dad kissed my cheek.

"Renesme, honey," my father said," Why don't we clean you up and then you can tell us everything."

"Okay..." I replied, "But, can I have some tea afterwards?" I had become fond of the stuff; it wasn't as bitter as coffee.

"Yes, we'll fix you tea while Alice cleans you up." mother smiled, "I'm sure she's dying to get her out of those clothes. What do you think, Edward?"

Dad laughed, "Spot on, love."

"What's wrong with my clothes?" I questioned indignantly, "I like them just fine."

"Well, if you tell Alice that, I'm sure she'd be happy to give you an upgrade." Dad said, setting me back on the ground.

And this is where I find myself now; in a hot shower (like a waterfall, but indoors...) listening to Alice negotiating Jasper for one of his flannel shirts. She'd promised that we would go shopping for more.

I guess this means that I'm staying...

Author's Note:

I feel this is going to be a double shot. I'm really happy with how it turned out. If you've heard the song Barton Hollow, it's a really beautiful and haunting song. This was based off of the chorus and the bridge sections which go: "Miles and miles in my bare feet/ still can't lay me down to sleep/If I should die before I wake/ Oh, Lord, my soul, won't you take?" and "Can't go back to Barton Hollow/ Devil's gonna follow me where've I go/ Ain't no use, washing in the river/ Can no preacher man save my soul?". It's by a group called the Civil Wars. I suggest you check it out!

Carie

p.s. does Renesme sound like Nahuel with all the cursed stuff, or am I just crazy?