Friend Of The Dead

The Land Of Whispering Woods

Bright gold fades

To worlds of dusk

Shimmers and chips,

Known as your hair

We will breathe on,

In the land of whispering woods

The rain fell in gentle waves, soft rain, sweet rain, an amiable hurricane. Tentative drops fell onto my face, rolling down the bridge of nose and dripping off the end. The mud squished under my feet, and through the hum of the rain, I could hear crickets stringing their tune.

I could scarcely keep my thoughts from straying as I walked home in the rain---I would have preferred to walk home without getting washed, but as Dorian and I waited for the rain to stop and when it didn't, we had no choice but to move through the rain before the darkness fell and Charlie called for a police search. But the rain didn't bother me, on the other hand, my thoughts did. So much has happened, so much was happening, the simple life I held in my hands in the real world---the one that separated me from the souls was being chased away by stray ghosts and bloodsucking vampires. Did anybody else acknowledge their consistent presence in our world? Was there any other person in this town that knew the truth of these beautiful creatures that prey on the weak? Was I the only one who saw what was behind the painted faces?

But even as I walked and thought, trying to stop myself from shivering every time Dorian's arm rubbed against my own as he walked in step beside me, I couldn't blame these people, whoever they were, who knew but said nothing. What could poor, defenseless humans do in the face of immortal monsters that were designed to kill? Should I hold them guilty for their inarticulateness when I myself have been bound in the same speech-paralysis my whole life in fear of judgment? Even if they knew, what could they do? Was there even a way to destroy a vampire? Only one thought came to mind, and that was the story Quil told me the night of the party on the beach.

He told me in his story that the shape-shifter's teeth were solid and strong enough to puncture the skin of a vampire. At the time I hadn't given it much thought, being too preoccupied by the stray ghosts that appeared in my life and the constant nagging thought that told me something about the Cullens, the Quileutes and Forks in general, was not normal. But now, as I stepped over a log and shielded my eyes from the rain, I wondered if what Quil told me was in some ways, true?

Part of the story was in fact, real facets of the truth. The Cullens did come here fifty years ago, seeing as that can now be deemed possible because of their immortality and inability to age. But was that the only part that was true? What if the whole story that Quil told me wasn't just some bedtime fairytale as he'd dismissed, what if it was the reality of the situation back then? What if the Quileute boys were actual shapeshifters and their ancestors who could also turn into bear-sized wolves did make a treaty with the Cullens? The possibility of that was high on the scale now that my knowledge has been widened. Could that be it?

I stopped in my spot, my eyes staring unfocused into the distance as the dots all connected in my brain. Vaguely I heard Dorian say something, but all of my outer senses closed in on themselves so I could focus only what was happening in my brain.

As time rolls on

Time left ticks by

Thoughts you thought

And will think....

We will think on,

In the land of whispering woods

Jacob Black used to be skinny, and bony, and playful and young. But suddenly, as if going through an instant transformation, at the age of sixteen he went from being a lanky kid to a muscular and wide man. He didn't even seem like he was a teenager, he looked like one of those steroid infused actors you see on TV in anabolic steroid commercials. His happy persona changed, he always looked serious and tired, as if he'd been out running all night. He was in love with my sister, Bella, and he loathed her boyfriend. But it wasn't just that, every time I saw Jacob looking at Bella and Edward and every time his name was mentioned in a conversation, it was like Jacob was physically repulsed by Edward, like he had a bad smell or something. The deep hatred between the two of them seemed to drive from more than just their love for Bella, like they just couldn't physically stand the other. Back in certain situations, I'd been confused, but with Quil's story ringing through my head word for word, as I searched in my memories and brought that particular one forward to re-see, I then understood.