Blood Moon

Pride

Bella

There's a flash of white, and suddenly I'm careening through space. Bright lights flash around me, and I spin out of control. I haven't felt this helpless in ten years. I reach out, grasping at anything that might be able to stabilize me, and stop the spinning. My hand grasps around something that feels like metal, but my body keeps spinning, and the metal bends and snaps within my hands. It's that moment that I realize that I can't stop. I hear a high-pitched scream, which hurts my ears.

It's mine.

When I open my eyes, I'm sliding through a thick blanket of fresh white snow, and spitting gravel and rocks out of my mouth. My shirt has been torn to shreds, and a frigid chunk of snow is sliding down my unfeeling stomach.

"Velkom to Romania," Cristian smiles, offering me a hand.

***

Jacob

This way, Logan snarls, and the pack tears off after him. I can't help but be filled with wonder and pride as the pack bonds, learning to trust each other and use their abilities for good.

We bound around another bend and into a clearing.

A single figure stands silent among the snowflakes. Her dark eyes stare back at us, her teeth, or rather, her fangs handing out if her mouth, creasing her thick, plump lips. Her hair is long, dark red, gathered into a single messy braid. If she didn't have the vampirism, she might even be ugly. But her features are perfect, just like any other vampire. Thick scars like her throat, puncture wounds from the teeth of the wolves she's killed. She grins when she sees us,  hungering for her next meal.

"I see you've found me," she hisses.

"We did," Renesmée translates, jumping off from my back.

"I assume you've come for revenge? To soothe all the souls I've killed?"

"You need to be annihilated, monster."

"Ah, but you forget, we're on the same side now," she chuckles.

"No, we're not. You've been killing my wolves and it has to come to an end."

"Your wolves," she scoffs, "I thought you were just a kid from forks. This isn't your pack, Jacob Black."

I hear a low growl, and suddenly a black figure jumps out of line and launches herself at Varia's throat. Varia screams, and claws at the wolf, trying to get her away, to stop the pain. Then the rest of us pounce, snarling and growling, long strands of spit swinging from our mouths. We snap and snarl, teeth and claws tearing and crushing. I'm certain she didn't survive.

She must be dead by now, I tell them and they step back.

What's left is a bleeding, broken mess of a person, barely breathing. Somehow, she still manages to smirk.

"It's ok," Dahlia croaks. "I'll be alright."

***

Bella

The Romanian coven's house; or rather; castle, towers over the property in tall parapets, covered in light gray stones. They bring me to a dimly lit room, with a long couch rather than a bed, a long bookshelf covered in books, a large fireplace, with a bearskin rug on the floor.