Rose (Book IV) | Rosalie Hale

5 | Night Thunders

5 | Night Thunders

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The full moon brightened the dark field Willow stood in as her green eyes fluttered open. She looked around and whimpered at the sight of hooded figures standing in a circle, with her in the dead center. She could hear low growls outside of them as multiple creatures lurked within the shadows.

Smoke rose around her from the piles. A bitter aroma scattered in every direction. She didn't dare examine the burning too closely. Willow could tell by the smell that she wouldn't enjoy what she found. It smelt like charred gag-worthy pork, and not in a good way. Something deep of sulfuric fouls.

The huddled figures took a step closer to her in all directions, closing in enough to make Willow feel like she was suffocating from the smoke.

Willow frowned when the hoods of the figures raised, fingers pointing toward her pajama shorts. She stepped back to look at herself and gasped when she found a little girl standing there, looking straight through her.

She was beautiful. The most adorable little girl Willow had ever seen. She was young. Maybe two or three in age with mud-blonde curls that framed her round cheeks and full lips. She had the most chocolate-looking brown eyes, specks of gold within.

That wasn't what grabbed her attention the most. No, no—she was trembling. Her entire body was shaking and those adorable eyes were being consumed by an awfully familiar forest green. Emeralds of hell stared up at her, through her, looking at something on her other side until her green eyes found what they sought.

"What did you do?" She asked.

"M-Me?" Willow pointed to herself. She looked around and gasped as a little boy ran forward through her and shoved the little girl to the ground. "Hey!"

She couldn't move. Willow tried to step forward, but she couldn't move.

The little boy was the same size as the girl. He was equally beautiful, a sickening resemblance to Monday when he was a child. There were two key differences that made Willow step back and fight off the thought of her son. She didn't want to compare her sweet little pup to these . . . these . . .

The little boy had silver hair. So silver the fire gave it a glittering effect under the moonlight. There was a single strip of pink in his wispy top, barely anything visible along his short sides. It revealed multiple lines along his skin. They resembled leafless tree branches that disappeared down the back of his neck and into his leather clothing.

A word sat on the tip of her tongue.

Willow tried to speak, but never got the chance. The little boy shoved the girl back rough, sending her flying a foot or two.

"Stop!" The little girl cried, her green eyes filled with tears.

The boy stalked forward, his hands at his sides. As his fingers fluttered, sparks formed with pink electric currents.

Willow looked up and watched roaring clouds draw closer to covering the full moon. The rain began to fall down over the field and the little girl cried loudly.

"Stop!" She sobbed.

Willow rushed forward and tried to grab the little boy, but the little girl's eyes glowed and her hand flew up. For a split second, she wasn't invisible anymore to the children as Willow's eyes connected with the fearful young child. She yelped as she was thrown to the ground, groaning at the force the invisible hand slammed her against the frozen soil.