until he sails home

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𝕋ℍ𝔼 sun dipped low over La Push beach, painting the horizon in hues of gold and crimson, the waves carrying the scent of salt and distant storms. A bonfire crackled nearby, sending embers dancing into the dusky sky, and the sounds of laughter and shouts from the wolf pack echoed across the sand. The boys were tangled in an enthusiastic game of beach soccer, their bare feet kicking up sand, their laughter carried by the breeze.

But amidst the playfulness, an edge of exhaustion lingered. The past few nights had been long—constant patrols, endless vigilance while the Cullens hunted—and it weighed heavily on their shoulders. Yet even fatigue couldn't dull the anticipation hanging in the air tonight. Today, they would meet Rain's sister, Donna.

Rain walked along the shoreline, the sand cool beneath her feet, the rhythmic pull and crash of the waves grounding her. Donna walked beside her, dark hair wild in the sea breeze, her pale eyes sharp and cautious. She moved with the grace of the ocean, every step fluid and deliberate, but her posture was tense—a predator in unfamiliar territory.

Erian caught Rain's scent first, the familiar sweetness of salt and rainwater hitting him like a bolt of lightning. His head snapped up from the game, eyes wide with recognition before a smile split his face, bright and boyish, chasing away the weariness that had crept into his features.

"Rain!"

He was moving before he even realized it, feet pounding against the sand, a blur of motion as he closed the distance between them. Rain barely had time to react before she was lifted off her feet and spun around, laughter spilling from her lips as Erian buried his face in her neck.

"You're here," he murmured against her skin, voice thick with relief.

Rain wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him tightly. "I told you I'd come back."

Donna's sharp intake of breath broke the tender moment, her pale eyes narrowing as she stepped closer. Her posture was rigid, predatory, as she locked eyes with Erian. A low growl built in her throat, but then... she paused. Her nostrils flared slightly, catching the scent lingering between Rain and Erian—the unmistakable scent of a bond. Of mates.

The tension in Donna's shoulders melted away, replaced by something softer, more curious. Her gaze shifted from Erian to Rain, and a faint smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth.

"So... this is your mate," Donna said softly, her voice a low ripple, like waves caressing sharp rocks.

Erian straightened, clearing his throat, and extending a hand toward her. "I'm Erian. It's—well, it's an honour to meet you, Donna."

Donna stared at his outstretched hand for a moment before finally taking it. Her grip was firm, her fingers cold from the sea, but there was no malice in her touch. "You're not what I expected," Donna said, tilting her head slightly, a faint teasing glint in her pale eyes.

Erian grinned. "I'll take that as a compliment."

Rain's smile was warm as she glanced between them, her heart swelling with a mix of relief and affection. With a small tug, she intertwined her fingers with Donna's and started walking toward the bonfire.

"Come on. It's time you met the pack officially."

As they walked across the sand, the fire's glow casting flickering shadows on their faces, Donna stayed close to Rain, her sharp eyes scanning every face in the group. But her demeanour was calmer now, more at ease. Leah Clearwater stood near her brother Seth by the fire, arms crossed over her chest as she listened half-heartedly to the chatter around her. But something... shifted. A tug, faint but insistent, pulled at her chest. Her brows furrowed as she turned her head slightly, her dark eyes locking onto the two approaching figures.

Rain, familiar and glowing in the firelight. And beside her...

Leah's breath caught. Donna.

The woman's back was turned to her, dark hair flowing like ink under the flickering firelight, her shoulders squared with an almost regal air. There was something otherworldly about her, something ancient and untamed. Leah's chest tightened with an unfamiliar pull—like a string tied to her ribcage, tugging her closer.

What is this?

She shook her head, trying to dispel the feeling, but it lingered, stubborn and unyielding.

Erian caught the look on Leah's face and bit his lip, fighting back the laugh bubbling up in his chest. With a playful wink at Rain, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek before jogging back to the soccer game, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

Rain glanced over at Leah, noticing the strange way she was staring at Donna. Her brow arched slightly, but she said nothing as she led her sister toward the fire, guiding her into the warm circle of flickering light and familiar faces. For a moment, everything felt still—the crackling fire, the distant sound of waves, and the soft hum of conversation. Rain and Donna stood side by side, two daughters of the ocean, radiant and untamed.

Donna tilted her head up, eyes reflecting the firelight, her voice low but certain as she spoke.

"I suppose this is where we start trusting them."

Rain squeezed her sister's hand gently, her voice soft but steady.

"They'll protect us, Donna. Just as we'll protect them."

Around the fire, the pack slowly began to settle, exchanging looks of curiosity and respect as the two sisters took their place among them. And though the night stretched on with laughter, stories, and the crackling warmth of the bonfire, one thing was certain: the threads of connection had been woven tonight fragile, but strong enough to withstand the tides.

The bonfire crackled and popped, embers rising into the ink-black sky, dancing like tiny stars before fading into the night. The pack lounged in a loose circle, warmth from the flames painting their faces in hues of gold and amber. The sound of waves crashing in the distance played softly in the background, a gentle rhythm beneath their laughter and chatter.

Paul and Erian were locked in a standoff over the last burger.

"Back off, Paul. I saw it first," Erian growled, his hand hovering protectively over the plate.

Paul smirked, leaning in closer. "See, the problem is, you thought you saw it first. But I had my eyes on it before you even smelled it."

The others snickered, some placing bets under their breath while the two towering figures circled the plate like wolves around prey.

A soft chuckle broke the tension. Donna.

Her laughter was quiet, almost hesitant, but it carried over the noise and drew a few curious glances. Rain, sitting close beside her, looked up with a smile and rested her head on Donna's shoulder. The gesture was so gentle, so intimate, that it softened Donna's sharp edges.

Donna froze for half a second before a small, genuine smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. Her arm slipped around Rain's shoulders, holding her close. Together, they watched the chaos of the pack, two sisters carved from seafoam and starlight, finding their place in a world so different from their own.

Across the fire, Leah sat stiffly, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as her sharp eyes darted back to Donna before snapping away again. A shadow crossed her face, memories of Sam and Emily lingering like old bruises. She could feel it—that faint pull, like an invisible string wrapped around her chest, tethering her to something—or someone—she wasn't ready to face.

The air shifted slightly as Seth Clearwater, the youngest and perhaps most earnest of the pack, leaned forward with a curious gleam in his eyes.

"So... you two," he began, his voice light but genuinely curious. "How come it's only two of you? Is there others?"

Rain lifted her head from Donna's shoulder, her expression gentle but wary. Donna's grip on her sister tightened slightly, her pale eyes sharp as she glanced at Seth.

Erian, who had been mid-argument with Paul, froze. He knew Rain's story—at least fragments of it—and he knew how much pain those memories carried. He opened his mouth to deflect Seth's question, but the younger wolf continued before he could stop him.

"If it's too much then," Seth said quickly, his voice softening. "Then maybe you could sing for us?"

The pack quieted, the playful energy around the fire dimming into something softer, something more reverent.

Rain's expression shifted, her eyes widening slightly before softening into a smile. "Our song?" Seth nodded eagerly. "Yeah. I mean if it's okay. You don't have to if—"

"It's okay," Rain said gently, her voice carrying a warmth that made Seth's shoulders relax.

Donna's pale eyes flickered to her sister, and for a moment, the two shared a look—one filled with silent words and unspoken memories. Slowly, Rain sat up straighter, and Donna mirrored her. The pack stilled. The fire crackled. The ocean whispered against the shore.

And then... they began to sing.

Their voices rose together, weaving into the night air like a ribbon of silk. The melody was haunting and beautiful, carrying a weight that felt ancient, older than the stars overhead. Rain's voice was soft and sweet, like raindrops against a still lake, while Donna's voice was deeper, smoother, like the pull of the tide against the sand.

It wasn't a song of words, but of emotions—of longing, of love, of loss, and of hope.

The wolves stilled, their breaths held captive by the melody. Seth's eyes shone with unshed tears, his youthful heart swelling with something he couldn't name. Paul and Jared sat frozen, their usual bravado stripped away by the raw beauty of the sirens' song.

Erian watched Rain with a softness that seemed to radiate from his very soul. In this moment, she wasn't just Rain—his imprint, his light—she was something untouchable and eternal. And yet, she was his. He fell in love with her all over again, his chest aching with the force of it.

Leah, despite herself, found her gaze drifting back to Donna. That same pull—that invisible tether—tightened around her chest, and her throat constricted. She clenched her fists in the sand, trying to push the feeling away, but the song wrapped around her like a warm tide, refusing to let go.

When the final note faded into the night, silence followed. The waves carried the remnants of their song out into the endless expanse of the sea, and the pack sat still, as if afraid to break the fragile peace that had settled over them.

Donna exhaled softly, her head tilting downward as if the weight of the song lingered on her shoulders. Rain smiled faintly, her gaze sweeping across the faces of the wolves.

"Woah," Seth said softly, breaking the silence. His voice was raw, his sincerity shining through every word. "I got chills."

Rain smiled and leaned back into Donna's side, their shoulders pressed together. Donna's arm instinctively came around her sister again, her pale eyes softer than they had been all night. Erian, unable to stop himself, crossed the space between them and knelt in front of Rain, his hand finding hers. He didn't say anything—he didn't need to. Rain's smile was brighter than the firelight, her free hand reaching up to brush against his cheek. And somewhere across the fire, Leah stared into the flames, her heart thrumming in her chest, her gaze flickering back to Donna's silhouette in the firelight.

༄.°

The low hum of chatter filled the small diner, blending with the clink of cutlery against ceramic plates and the faint hiss of coffee being poured behind the counter. Fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead, casting a pale glow over the worn booths and sticky tabletops. Outside, the rain drizzled lazily against the fogged-up windows, painting streaks down the glass like tears.

Bella sat across from Jessica, who was poking at her Caesar salad with a fork, the crisp lettuce wilting under her half-hearted attention. The silence between them felt heavy, stretched taut like a wire that neither of them dared to cut. Jessica had agreed to dinner with Bella out of... what? Curiosity? Guilt? Maybe both. But mostly, Bella suspected, it was jealousy. Jessica's lingering gaze every time she saw Rain and Donna together was hard to miss—like someone watching a club they'd never been invited to join.

"They're not that interesting, you know," Jessica said suddenly, stabbing a crouton with unnecessary force.

Bella looked up from her untouched fries. "Who?"

Jessica gave her a sharp look, her painted lips tightening into a thin line. "Rain and Donna. Everyone acts like they're these mysterious goddesses, but they're just... girls."

Bella sighed. She had neither the energy nor the inclination to correct her. Rain and Donna weren't just anything—they were something else entirely. But how could she explain that without crossing lines she didn't want to cross?

Before she could find the words, loud laughter erupted from a corner booth.

A group of rugged-looking men sat huddled together, their faces sun-worn and weathered by salt and sea spray. Their heavy jackets were still damp from the storm, and their boots left faint muddy streaks on the diner floor. Fishermen—she could tell by the tang of saltwater that clung to them even from across the room.

"Swear on my life, I saw it!" one of them said, his voice gravelly and sharp. "It wasn't a fish, I tell ya. Its eyes... like glass marbles, staring' right into your soul."

"You've been out in the sun too long, Mike," another man laughed, though the nervous edge to his voice betrayed him. "Mermaids aren't real."

"They're sirens," the first man corrected, slamming his mug of coffee down hard enough to spill some of its contents. "And they're dangerous. One of 'em came right up to the edge of the boat. I could've touched her if I'd reached out."

Bella froze, her fingers tightening around her fork. Her heart began to hammer in her chest, each word landing like a pebble dropped into a still pond.

Jessica followed Bella's gaze and rolled her eyes. "Ugh, they're probably drunk."

"They were real," Mike continued, his voice low and sharp. "The way it looked at me, like it was... sizing me up. Like prey. If we'd had another net, we could've caught it." The word caught made Bella's stomach churn.

"She lunged at us," another man added, his voice quieter. "Knocked over one of the coolers before she slipped back into the water. Her teeth sharp as knives."

Laughter broke out again, but it wasn't full of humour. It was nervous, brittle. Jessica was still talking—something sarcastic, no doubt—but Bella couldn't hear her. She pushed her chair back abruptly, the metal legs screeching against the linoleum floor.

"Bella?" Jessica called after her, but Bella was already moving.

She crossed the diner in quick strides, her boots clicking softly against the tile. The fishermen looked up as her shadow fell over their table, their laughter dying off as they took her in—small, pale, but with a fire in her eyes that made them pause.

"You're looking for a mermaid?" Bella said softly, her voice steady despite the tightness in her chest.

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By: SilverMist707

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