The story of Pire, Nahuel's mother, and how he came to be. Do NOT read if you haven't read Breaking Dawn.! You won't understand it most likely AND it might spoil a little. DISCONTINUED.
Summary says it all! I hope you like it and remember: DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVE NOT READ BREAKING DAWN. Enjoy! =D
1. Chapter One
Rating 5/5 Word Count 1842 Review this Chapter
I smiled up at the darkening sky, soon enough would I be able to meet the beloved stranger that lived in the tree shadows. I had barely met him, yet I was sure I was falling in love. He was truly the perfect man. Beautiful beyond anything in the world. So beautiful, that he must have been a direct creation from the creator of all, must be his son, his angel face gave him away.
I was so lost in my thoughts I didn’t hear the sound of my sister, Huilen, approaching. “What is it Pire, that you are so cheerful about?” she asked, smiling at me with her pink lips, showing her white teeth, which twinkled in the fading twilight.
I stared at her for only a second, looking at her beautiful olive-toned skin, comparing it with my own fair skin and our obvious differences. She was shorter, very pretty, but I knew I was prettier. I didn’t like to think like that, but I couldn’t escape the fact that it was true. Boys took better to me than her. Her hair was longer though, and much silkier than mine to my utter disappointment, which was quite odd in a way, since I tried to keep better care of it than her. She didn’t mind being in my shadow, however. She was not the least bit envious. She was more adventurous than I, and left the little place the Mapuche claimed to go out on her little adventures with the young men of the tribe while they hunted. And she was far smarter than I, more responsible and logical than I could ever be.
Yet, she was still my best friend. I wished I could tell her about the young stranger in the woods that had taken liking to me, but I decided to keep it to myself. My and Joham’s little secret. I smiled in spite of myself and turned my face away from her curious eyes. “Nothing,” I sang.
She just looked at me and sighed, “Mm-hmm,” she hummed, walking past me with a basket of dirty cloths, headed toward the stream in front.
I smiled again to myself, touching the silver chain Joham had given me as it hung close to my heart. She noticed that.
“Who gave you the necklace?” she questioned me¾ loud enough that my mother whipped her head toward us in sudden interest¾ , kneeling on the bank and scrubbing the material just under the surface of the water with her blistered hands.
I tried to turn my smile off, but I couldn’t, I was glowing. Instead, I tried to pretend that I didn’t understand, toying idly with the object in question, while I cocked my head to the side, biting my lip to try to tame my lips. “What?” I replied, trying to look as perplexed as I could.
“The necklace,” she hedged, pointing to the silver string hanging around my throat.
I looked down, blushing faintly but still trying to sound nonchalant. “Oh, this?” I murmured, touching the delicate thing.
She stopped washing for a second, sitting her rear on her ankles whiled she looked at me, eyes wide as she waited for my should-be-an-easy-answer reply. I didn’t answer for a minute.
“Yeah,” she breathed, waiting as she watched the expressions on my face. Even more curious now with every passing emotion, as the look on my face seemed to fuel that curiosity.
“Oh . . . ,” I mused, “a friend.”
She looked at my twitching lips as I fought the smile that threatened to explode on my face, even more curious. I was aware of my mother listening more intently now, seeing her eye me with even more curiosity¾ if that were possible¾ than even my younger sister, stretching up on her toes as if that would lessen the distance between us, all from my peripheral vision.
“What friend?” Huilen asked me, putting a slight emphasis on the word friend. “Would he be a man?”
I smiled at Joham’s gift, caressing the two twining silver bands while I answered her. “Maybe,” I shrugged, still trying to be as indifferent as possible¾ and failing most miserably. “Maybe not.” I picked up my own large, homemade carrier¾ made up mostly of straw¾ and skipped away, leaping in to the little house, which wasn’t exactly a house but more like a hut.
I placed the different fruits on a homemade plate on our little, worn, wooden table and gazed out the front door. The birds were singing happily outside, completely reflecting my mood as I waited for the sky to turn a deep black color, for the stars to pop into place overhead and for my personal star to appear, my Joham.
* * *
I was lying on the hard ground, staring up at the ceiling as the sky grew the darkest, I knew he would soon be coming. The ring of a bell sounded outside, a very quiet bell. That was my cue.
“Joham?” I whispered, sitting half way up on my elbows.
“Pire?” his voice rang in harmony, twisting its tendrils into the wind, like a piece of it, as it gently floated away. What a beautiful masterpiece his voice was.
I kicked the light material off of me, struggling to get on my feet. I looked out the square hole in the wall of the tiny hut, and there he was, just blending into the background. Black and white.
The moon glinted off his flawless skin, caressing and enveloping him like a veil, the faint glow of all that’s holy. My angel.
A smile of pure joy spread across my face, I walked as carefully as I could around the small room, pushing the colorful beads of our entranceway out to the side so I could pass without uttering a noise. I let them swing gently back and sprinted into Joham’s waiting arms. He hugged me back just as well.
I shivered in his cold embrace and pulled back, staring up at his glorious face. He was smiling as well.
My eyes roamed over the perfect pale white skin, moving to his full, soft, welcoming lips, barely passing past his very-very-well-taken-care-of teeth. They strayed past his angular features, his perfect nose, well proportioned cheekbones, his vast forehead, his silky black-as-night hair. And last went straight to his eyes.
It would have frightened others quite easily, but not me. The rich burgundy color fascinated me. It was pure, sparkling like wine. I saw nothing else. Hesitantly, I reached up towards his face with my hand, stopping just a few inches away, hand mid-air.
“May I?” I whispered.
He smiled, “But of course,” and gently took hold of my hand, lifting it himself so he could hold it to his freezing cheek.
I sighed in contentment, shuffling my feet forward so I could lay my head on his chest. His free arm wrapped around me. I toyed gently with his outer garment while I spoke. “I was nervous that you were not going to show up,” I told him.
His heartbeat was silent, as was all around us. I had grown accustomed to it, however, in the short week and a half that I had come to know him.
I felt at peace here.
“That’s good,” he murmured so quietly, I wondered if he was speaking to himself. And then he spoke up. “Of course I would show up, I missed you the second I left.”
I looked up at him again and wrapped both arms around his neck, pushing up on the tips of my toes so I could kiss his marble lips.
He allowed that and leaned away a second later, with a small smile lingering upon his lips. His eyes twinkled in the dim light.
“Thank you for the gift,” I whispered. “I found it on my cot this morning; it was wonderful.”
His eyes clouded for a second, curiously bewildered and then his expression relaxed into one of calm. “Oh, the gift, I am glad you liked it. Can you tell me, how you pronounce the name of the gift? I forget.”
I kept my arms around him, as his hands slid down my sides to my waist, smiling. “It is pronounced nék-ləss,” I smiled at him again.
He smiled back, “Oh, right. Do you have it on?”
I smiled wider and pulled away from him, planting my feet back on the hard ground. “Of course!” I sang quietly to him, untucking the simple ornament from my dress, I pulled it out and showed it to him.
His eyebrows rose in silent surprise. “I’m glad you like it,” he stated simply. “Will you wear it often?”
“Every single day for the rest of my life!” I vowed, holding him closest to me again. One arm wrapped around my back and his hand pulled my chin up so I could look at him in the face again.
We stared at each other for a long, exaggerated moment and then it was as if gravity was pulling us together. He leaned down and pulled me ever closer to him. My head fell back, tilting up to reach his lips. And then the rest of the world blurred in the background, and it felt as if I were floating, to heaven. Our lips touched, and despite the obvious cold of his skin, I felt outrageously warm. It was a fire, a current of energy and magnetism flowing through our bodies, everywhere we touched. I felt his breath on my tongue and I wanted more. I was gasping before the usual time.
He pulled away all too soon, and when I saw his eyes, they were a smoldering black. His face was restraint, his body suddenly stiff, but he was still glowing. “I think I need to leave,” he muttered, a frown in his tone.
“No! Why?” I gasped, my chest heaving with exertion, trying to breathe at a more normal pace. I hated this part of our reunions, the ending. I loathed to see him go. And besides, he had barely gotten here. “A little later-”
“No, I have to go now,” and his tone made it that more final.
“Won’t you stay a little longer?” I pleaded him. I would probably have been begging on my knees if he weren’t still holding me up with his strong arms.
“Sorry,” he whispered and kissed me swiftly again. “I can’t, I have to . . . I . . . have some business to take care of.”
“In the middle of the night?” I demanded, torn.
“Sorry,” he whispered again, and then a smile suddenly erupted. “But . . . ,” he stalled, “maybe I could arrive a little earlier tomorrow.” As he said those words, his finger trailed along my side, burning it’s way down.
I shivered in great pleasure. “Well, okay. If you promise.”
“I promise,” he smiled and then frowned. “But I really do have to leave now.”
I sighed and pulled away, slumping a little in my posture. “Okay.”
He leaned down and pecked my lips then smiled and turned away, looking around and moving very fast into the trees.
“Pire, honey? What are you doing out here?” My mother.
My head snapped quickly to where she stood, a few yards away, on the threshold of our little place. “Oh, nothing.”