Carlisle

"We don't get to give up that easily," snarled Rose.

Jasper just stared at her silently, his eyes dark and his expression full of despair.

"Is hunger really the only reason you've ever hunted or killed?" demanded Rosalie.

"Has she had a moment's respite to feel anything? Did you give her any instructions other than to let go?" demanded Rosalie.

"They were rabid raccoons," she hissed in an angry whisper.

Rosalie straightened and with iron resolve forced calm into her expression and went into the garage. "Nora dear, next time we'll work on table manners. Come on. We need to clean up. Because the raccoons were sick, we can't bury the remains so there's a bonfire ready to start out back."

Hunger satiated, being talked to like an ordinary person, Nora seemed to return to herself and look around at what she'd done.

"Uhh… I don't want to be a vampire anymore," she whispered.

Rosalie just squatted beside her. "We're cleaning up now. You and me."

When Nora looked up and met her eyes with a look of half horror half despair Rosalie took a silk kerchief out of her pocket and started cleaning off Nora's face. "It doesn't have to be like this sweetie but just this once you were hungry and everything has been horrible and I'll teach you a better way for next time."

"Let's clean up," Nora said resignedly. Everyone was still staring at her myself included. How did she seem so unbothered by the slaughter around her. She noticed our regard.

She pointed to herself. "Farm girl. Been raising animals forever. Love 'em, give 'em the best life you can. That way they only have one bad day but it's been a while since I cried over Christmas dinner. Besides the coons are always trying to sneak in and eat the pretty chicken's eggs then and sometimes even their fluffy chicks and when I try to chase 'em out of the hen house with my flashlight they climb up on top and hiss and growl at me and I HATE raccoons! A raccoon ate Mr. Floppington my pet bunny. He was still little. Tiny little ears, so fluffy. I'll eat raccoons but I'm not eating rabbits and you can't make me." She crossed her arms looking rather annoyed then got to her feet and started piling up raccoon parts. Suddenly she just didn't seem as scary anymore.

"I hate bears," answered Emmett climbing down into the garage to help the little girl clean up the mess.

"I hate things that take away my loved ones," translated Jasper whose eyes were slowly fading back to amber. "Rose is right."

"She usually is," Emmett announced.

Rose, Emmett and Nora piled the remains onto the bonfire then sat watching it burn. Esme and I hosed down the garage then gave it a good scrub down with bleach. Rosalie had the floor painted with a special epoxy so the garage scrubbed easily to its former high gloss shine. After the strong emotions from the family and so many guests for the past few days, Jasper and Alice retired for some alone time to just decompress. I can't imagine how hard this is for Jasper to feel all our grief.

About two hours later Nora, Rose and Emmett came back into the house in nothing but their undergarments.

"Where, what, why?" I asked.

"No more funerals. No more black clothes. No more raccoon murder dress," announced Nora. "Rosy, where's the shower?"

"White carpets and your feet are filthy up you come," ordered Rosalie toeing off her shoes. She picked Nora up and they trooped up stairs. I'll confess I starred but so did Esme. We were both rather shocked.

Esme and I wandered out to the raccoon pyre. It's never a good idea to leave a bonfire unattended.

Esme sighed, "Babies don't talk back or voice their opinions and though teens are a little melodramatic sometimes, they're so close to grown up."

"Edward and Bella were more than a little melodramatic. They were a rollercoaster of raw feeling until they just sort of balanced each other out," I replied.

"Renesmee was..." Esme couldn't seem to find the words she wanted.

"She was not a good example of what to expect from a child," I spoke. "She was wired differently. If you are expecting Nora to act anything like Nessie it isn't likely to happen. From birth she was communicating with ease Esme. Good grief, I think at over fifty there were years when Edward did little more than grunt at me."

"Rosalie was marvellous with her today," Esme praised. Then she sniffed her sleeve. "I smell like funeral homes, human sweat and tears, too many cleaners, raccoon blood and campfire. Nora had a point. No more funerals, no more of this day!"

I was shocked speechless when polite demure Esme growled ripped off her own dress and tossed it into the fire then headed back to the house.

I starred at the fire until it had burned to ash lost in a reverie of memory. Near dawn I noticed Jacob, in wolf form, in the distance, sitting at the edge of the forest watching the smouldering remains of the campfire with me. I don't think he'd been a man since they died. If I had to guess he had probably forced any wolves remaining loyal to him to forsake him and rejoin Sam's pack. I doubt very much he'd want anyone else in his head space.

I'm told an imprinted wolf rarely lives long once their imprint dies.