AN: This is a ONE SHOT. Found in my laptop dated 2012
Broken Wing
Standing at the entrance of the La Push lands, she waited for her escort. Three tall, russet-skinned men seemed to materialize from the surrounding thick forest.
She knew what they were but not who. She also knew the instant they detected the scent that clung to her body. She'd been with them too long for a shower to wash away the years of servitude.
The men didn't know what her association was, but the price paid for this event was too great to cause an issue. The Kings had made sure of it.
The tallest man stepped forward, "My name is Jacob Black. I am the Chief of La Push.''
"Giana Salvatore,'' She answered, holding her hand out in respect. Giana watched as Jacob hesitated, but after a fraction of a second, he clasped his palm against hers.
"You are aware of the stipulations?'' Jacob Black wanted to know.
"Yes, Chief Black. I am allowed access to First Beach, the cliffs, and nowhere else. I am to be escorted for the duration of my business." Giana recited the guidelines that had been given.
"Ok, then," Chief Black nodded for me to follow him.
Giana walked behind Chief Black. The other two men followed closely behind. It wasn't long before the group veered from the main road and descended through the forest. After hiking for several minutes, the trees opened up, revealing what Giana assumed to be First Beach.
The breeze blew the sea-scented air toward Giana. She could feel the fine mist of the ocean against her face.
"You may have privacy. However, we will be waiting to escort you to your next destination,'' Jacob Black stated. The tone of his deep baritone voice made the words more of a command than an instruction.
"Thank you," Giana whispered. "I understand.''
Giana walked to the shore and looked out to the ocean. It was as beautiful as she imagined. Lifting her head toward the sky, Giana smiled as the sun peeked from behind the clouds. Lifting the lid from atop the ornate urn, Giana dipped her hand into the ashes and let the salted air carry them away in the wind. Giana stood watching until the swirls disappeared.
Giana wondered if she could feel the sun, hear the waves as they rolled, or taste the salt. Giana stood lost in thought until the sun hid behind another cloud. Closing the lid on the urn, Giana turned to meet the curious eyes of Chief Black and his two comrades.
Giana stepped toward the men, "I am ready to visit the cliffside now.''
With little more than a nod of agreement, Chief Black turned and began walking through a well-worn forest path. Once again, the two nameless men followed Giana as she was led higher up the rocky path.
Chief Black stopped and moved to the side, allowing Giana to see that the thickly wooded forest opened up, revealing one of the most beautiful views Giana had ever seen.
"Watch your step and be careful. The rocks are not settled," Chief Black cautioned as Giana stepped toward the enormous cliffside.
Gianna smiled before stepping forward and standing on the very tip of the ledge. Giana held her arm over the edge and tipped the urn on its side.
Mother Nature took hold, and the ashes were swept upward and into the cloudy sky. With her duty completed, Giana let herself cry. She could feel the hot tears slide down her cheeks.
When the last of the grey ash of her spirit disappeared into the unknown, Giana closed her eyes. "Be free, my friend. May death give you what life stole," Giana whispered to the heavens.
When the last remnant of her too-short life was carried away, Giana clutched the empty urn in her arms and turned to face her escorts.
The wind shifted.
The three men whipped their heads simultaneously and stared at Giana.
Giana knew they recognized the scent. Their eyes were filled with questions and accusations.
"Isabella Marie Swan was born September 13, 1987, and died November 21, 2023. She was thirty-six years old." Giana confirmed.
A myriad of emotions crossed their faces—anguish, regret, longing, and finally rage.
"How?" Chief Black demanded, taking a step toward Giana. The man on his right grasped Chief Black's shoulder, stopping him only barely.
Giana pulled the slip of paper from her pocket and held it out for Chief Black. "The Kings will meet with you if you so choose. They will tell you her story as they know it."
Giana could see the want for answers warring with their suspicion. "You will not be harmed. The Kings give their word. You may bring whomever you want as a witness."
"You will be escorted back to the border of our lands. I will speak with my people before deciding on a course of action," Chief Black informed Giana.
Nodding in acceptance, Giana followed the two men down the trail they had only moments before climbed.
When they reached the border and the car that waited for her, Giana turned, facing the nameless men. "Thank you for your time," she told them before turning and getting into the car.
The return drive to Port Angels felt like an eternity. The sadness that permeated the air around Giana hung heavy in the fabric of her world. The Kings were waiting when she returned.
"It is done." Giana bowed and passed the urn to Marcus.
"And the shifter Chief?" Aro wanted to know.
"I do not know," Giana answered honestly.
"Thank you, Giana, you are dismissed." Caius waved her off with a flick of his wrist.
Jacob Black ordered his pack away before walking into his home. Pulling a chair from the table, he sat and stared at the paper in his hand. It was thick and expensive. The writing was formal.
Finally, turning the paper over, he read...
Isabella Swan
No, her flesh was not stone, her eyes not red, nor was her life immortal. She weaved her way into our eternities and made our long-dead hearts beat.
She was the daughter we never had in life, the friend we were denied in death.
She was remarkable.