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CHAPTER SIX ᴄʜᴏᴘ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇ
From what Charlie had told me about the bears, it looked like I wasn't the only one troubled by the presence of wolves in Forks.
The sameness of each day was monotonous- driving me to the brink of my nerves. Skip breakfast with Mrs Rochester and her husband. School. Attempt to see Bella. Return to my room, where I'd stay until morning, sometimes sneaking through the window and out to the woods on painfully boring nights. On weekends I'd stalk through the woods, first tracking miles to feed, and then returning, full stomached to scope out the woods up from near Charlie's and down toward the reservation.
I'd become familiar with the scent of a wolf. It no longer pained my nose with the wet, earthy smell. In certain areas, it hung in the air like an invisible barrier, and each weekend I edge closer, building a tiny bit of courage each time.
For a while, I was clueless as to whether the wolves could ever know that a vampire was sniffing around their tracks. Even after I'd had my first encounter with one, I wondered.
The flickering of the paper posters carried easily through the chilled wind. Poorly cut images of bears and red warnings were pinned to each tree that lined the edge of the forest by the cliff road. Here, the salt air licked at my lips, brushing harshly against the delicate skin of my cheeks as I slid through the low branches and crisp, dead bushes.
I walked until the usual smell hit my nose. The barrier felt weaker today as if my sudden need for knowledge had blinded my own fear of crossing. But as I headed in, one careful step after the other, it grew stronger by the second, until my legs were begging me to stand still.
My back went rigid. A wolf.
Turning quickly, I was met with the sight i'd been waiting to see.
The creature was large- far bigger than any normal wolf, its paws easily the size of a car wheel. Its legs stood firm agains the ground, bulky and long, as strong as the roots of an ancient tree, drawing energy from the earth in the same way, as if it was only a spirit of its surroundings, a natural extension. The beautiful fawn and caramel colours of its thick coat blended smoothly into the tree trunks and dying, orange leaves.
And though everything about the wolf showed that it was nothing but a graceful creation of nature, its eyes looked so human, staring back at me with the knowledge and humanity of the person inside. I wondered who it was. I thought, perhaps, that it was Sam Uley, who gazed back at me with eyes that looked far wiser than his years.
Until the wolf stepped forward, I was locked to the gorund by feet, knees refusing to move. I was caught by the allure of the creature. I suddenly saw the claws, as long and as sharp as a butchers knife. I saw its teeth, gleeming as a threat. And I rembered who I was, what I was.
And I ran.
I ran with human speed, quickening to my inplausable stealth when i'd finally lost his scent among the pine and rain, knowing he wasn't following.
