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CHAPTER ?: CHRISSY POV

'Anyone want to ski back down with me?' Caleb asked excitedly. 'The weather's turning crap, now is the last chance before we go back home.'

One by one, the rest of my group agreed. Except for me.

'I'll just, um, meet you at the bottom.' I muttered quietly, as they all trudged stiffly away.

They all looked impressive, in matching ski pants, jackets, goggles and gloves, hired skis slung casually over one shoulder. Together. Companions in the art of snow sports. I really didn't fit in here.

I approached the whine of the ski lift, lifting my feet high out of the snow. I had learned that particular trick early on. Dragging your feet could lead to tripping, whether that was over your own feet, a partially covered rock, or the icy substance itself.

Metallic structures moved steadily past, suspended from the thick wire cable. I picked one at random, sliding into place on the seat. I obeyed the sign, tucking my poles securely under my armpit, and pulled my goggles back down over my eyes, colouring the world orange, until my vision adjusted. Then I reached up tugging at the frosted security bar before my ride left the shelter.

It should have slid down smoothly, gliding over oiled hinges, like a skier glided over snow. But it didn't. It jerked, screeching in protest, determined to remain. A little like me attempting to ski. I could just make out the rusted, pitted metal.

I would just have to do it without the rail. Easy. Other people did it all the time. Admittedly not in 60 mile an hour winds, but that was nothing. I clutched at the armrests.

The chair rocked alarmingly as I was hit by a blast of frigid air. Ionly had to last another fifteen or so minutes without falling off. Not long.

The wind buffeted me turbulently, and to my horror, the natural inclination of the mountain kicked in and I slipped. It was only a fraction of an inch, but that was enough to send me into an unbridled panic. I clawed desperately at the slick slats on my seat, somehow in the process pushing my body further over the edge.

I dangled for a few seconds, then my bulky gloves lost their grip. I should have dropped then, but I didn't. The material of my pants caught on a jutting piece of metal. The agonising sound of fibres separating was thankfully whisked away on the wind. Surprise penetrated briefly through my blind fear.

I fell awkwardly, all my limbs stretched out, grasping urgently for any handhold to slow my descent. I fell too fast; all I could see was a blurring, dirty-white suddenly rushing past me. I fell for too long, almost wistful for the solid ground below.

And then it came. Hard. Firm. Unyielding. So much for soft, fluffy snow. Everything went black.

It was cold. Biting at my ears, nose, fingers. Chilling my arms, head and body to the very core.

I groaned as I ran my eyes over the parts of myself that I couldn't feel. The left leg twisted around and up, so that my ankle was positioned next to my waist. The right was drooped lightly ontop of the left knee. It also appeared that I was looking up at the mangled tangle. Both skis, still strapped securely to my feet, were pointing into the sky like flagless, flat flagpoles.

'I fell off a freaking chair lift.' I mumbled. 'And now I'm stuck on the side of a mountain with blood rushing to my head.'

Great. "It will be fun!" Caleb had said as he scrawled my name on the list with his. Fun. For someone who had any degree of skill at skiing.

'Like Caleb.' I added aloud. 'He looks like an avenging angel.'

I pictured him, marvelling again that he was mine. In my memory, his knees bent slightly, and he leaned forward into the breeze. His scarf flapped loosely behind him, and his ski tips skimmed effortlessly towards one another, then out again, as he decelerated, and picked up speed again. The thin ends of his hair ruffled where they poked from beneath his beanie.

'Procrastination.' I told myself sternly. This was no test, where the greatest repercussion would be a tutor over the summer holidays.

I twitched my foot experimentally. Thankfully, it moved. Attempting something with a few more results, I tried hoisting my right leg back to where it belonged. It went. Deciding to ditch the skis, I fumbled at the catch, pressing weakly at the lever.

'Or not.' It helped to hear my voice. It reminded me that I was still alive, that I needed to stay alive.

I rolled onto my stomach, and my left leg popped out and dropped next to my right. Noticing a searing chill against my thigh, I glanced down, remembering the ripping sensation as I tumbled from the seat.

There was a tear in my pants. It travelled from hip to ankle, and the only layer I had protecting my leg from frostbite and my modesty, was a saturated layer of black polypropelene.

'How convenient.' I said sarcastically, as I flopped around, reminded of a fish out of water.

I wiggled forward a few yards in a commando crawl, then collapsed exhaustedly. The atmosphere seemed to be sapping my strength along with my heat. A shudder ran down my body. How had I managed to ignore those for the last day? No wonder I was always falling over on flat surfaces, before I even reached the slopes.

'I'll have a little breather. Five minutes. Then I'll get going again.' I lay my head in the snow.

Thoughts flitted through my mind. Memories.

The usual important dates were the opening Act. My mother's first award ceremony, when I was seven. The first time I met my father, when I was nine. The first time I met Caleb, when I was fourteen. Mine and Caleb's first kiss, three months ago.

Then a new face entered. A handsome, russet-skinned face with friendly black eyes. Jacob. Black, not Simmons. He had been dragged off a month ago, by five mysterious giants. Sam, Embry, Quil, Paul and Seth. He had said he didn't have a girlfriend. But they had told story about a girl called Bella. I wondered what must be wrong with her brain, to turn down Jacob. Or what was so amazing about the Edward she had chosen instead.

I had decided last week, that everything was this mysterious Bella's fault. If only she had chosen Jacob over Edward, Jacob wouldn't have come to Galveston Island. I could have spent my months with Caleb alone, rather than with Jacob and Caleb. And then Caleb wouldn't have felt the need to comfort me when Jacob left.

'And I wouldn't have come on this stupid ski trip.' I concluded.

A snow flake landed on the navy of my glove. I slanted my finger in different directions, catching the glittering ball in the failing light. There were several balls, I observed. They were melded together, and when I looked closely, I could see each join, through the clear crystals.

I imagined thousands of the little spheres covering me. I could almost see in my minds eye, the pretty joins making an arch over my still form, where I could look at them.

The snow was slow in falling. I could feel the weight gradually building up. I closed my heavy eyelids and let my head tilt to one side.

It was peaceful. All my other experiences of the snow were loud yells of encouragement, or noisy screams when snowballs hit classmates in the back. This was different. Serene.

Even the snuffling, and whimpering that had just started up fit in with my current mood. The pressure over my back disappeared in a brief moment. It tickled.

A spasm - partially from the cold, and partially an attempt to laugh - ran through my body, and the feeling receded.

A while passed.

'Chrissy?' A husky voice said softly. 'Chrissy, can you hear me?'

'Mmmm.' I breathed. And then hands squeezing around my waist; vertigo as I swept through the air, now standing up the right way. And then nothing.

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Before I opened my eyes, I was fully conscious. I was lying on my side, my back pressed comfortingly against something toasty.

There were two hot iron shackles around my body. One looped under my waist and up to my hip, holding me tightly against the heat. The other manacle wound from on top of me, curved around my chest.

My ears were straining for any sound other then what was normal to me. Ie: my own breathing and the depressingly loud thudding of my heart as I woke up. There was another steady breath next to my right ear. In. Out. In. Out.

So I was in someone's warm embrace. Presumably they had come to look for me once they realised I wasn't with the rest of the group. And the only person who actually liked me and wouldn't be thrashed to a pulp for daring to touch me was Caleb himself, the one who would do the thrashing.

Pleased with this explanation, I sighed, and rolled over, snuggling my nose into his chest.

'Chrissy?' He said carefully.

'You sound different. You got a cold?' I slurred.

'No.'

'Hmmm.' I mused. Maybe my ears had an infection or something.

'Chrissy.' His hand cupped my chin, in the process leaving my shoulders bare. I trembled, then froze.

'Where are my clothes?' I finally snuck a look at his face. 'What the hell-? What are you-? My clothes-! God!'

Scrabbling at his unwavering clasp didn't work to start with. It wasn't until I began to hyperventilate that he reluctantly let go and I flung my entire weight away from him. I noted with divided emotions the clothing that still covered my skin. Relief at the pink-striped polypropelene and underclothes. Horror at the lack of everything else.

'Jacob! What the hell? Where am I? What are you doing here? What the hell?'

He passed me the sleeping bag that had been draped over our two figures and I flinched away.

'S-stay over th-there.' I stuttered, wrapping it around me, shivering again. It was strangely cold away from him. 'Now t-tell me what's g-going on.'

'I . . . ran away from home. So I went to Galveston and they said you'd gone skiing. So I went to your lodge, and they were sending out a search party as soon as the weather cleared. But I was worried. So I came out straight away.'

That couldn't be all. I looked at him witheringly. 'D-details.'

'Promise you won't run away if I tell you?'

'Fine.'

He looked at his palms. 'I guess the best way to explain is to start at the beginning.' He looked up, looking for confirmation.

I nodded. 'W-wait.' I crawled back to him, gasping when I touched his burning skin. Either he had a fever, or I was extremely cold.

'Okay, go.'

When Jacob spoke, his tone was deliberate, somehow emanating nobility and dignity. He was telling me a story about the Quileute tribe.

It was fascinating, filled with various mythical creatures, and superstition, and betrayal, and the lives of ancient people.

'Eventually no more of the generations could turn into a wolf.' He stopped again, sliding his eyes closed.

'Keep going.' I encouraged. 'I don't see how this has anything to do with anything, but it's interesting.'

'No more of the generations could turn into a wolf. Until now.' He finally opened his eyes and looked down at me. 'My generation has discovered the ability, and there's a pack in La Push again. Just like the ancient times.'

'So what're you trying to say? You turn into a giant wolf?'

'Yes.'

The idea was troubling. And obviously not true. 'And I'm a cold one.' I rolled my eyes.

Jacob's eyebrows knitted together. 'Trust me, you're not.'

'No. Really, I am. Look at my fangs.' I grinned at him.

'No. Really, you're not. Look at your skin, your eyes. You have heartbeat. You're warm. You smell nice. You are not a vampire.'

I went down his checklist.

Skin: tanned.

Eyes: Green.

Heartbeat: I felt my pulse; fairly normal.

Warm: a matter of opinion.

Smell nice: possibly. But probably not right now.

'Firstly,' I replied, 'Are you trying to tell me vampires really exist?And what do they look like?'

'Yes. They exist. Their skin is white and ice-cold; their eyes are red or gold, depending on what type of blood they drink; they don't have a heartbeat; they smell awful.' He looked at me seriously. 'Well, I guess they'd smell good to you. It's all part of the predator-prey thing. Everything about a vampire draws people in. Their voice, face, smell, everything.'

'Okay. Well, that's just a little bit scary. So, why did you come back?'

'I came back for you, Chris.' His tone was soft and gentle.