Chapter One

Samuel Swan

Things had been quiet in Forks for years, ever since we moved here from Seattle when my father became Sheriff of the small Washington town. I grew up around the town kids and those from the Res, Jeremiah Black, Amos Clearwater, and Quil Ateara. We played together in the forest and learned to hunt and swim in the river. No one locked their doors, nothing ever happened here until suddenly things began to change. My dad was suddenly confronted with a series of animal attacks killing four of his friends as they camped out in the same forest that was our playground. He and his deputies combed the surrounding area but there was no trace of the animals who had killed the men. How could there be no trace? No tracks? When these animals had been powerful enough to rip four men apart and leave only bodies and little blood on the ground. The same animals that the four men had emptied their weapons at. These four were the best hunters in town with the exception maybe of my dad and the Quileutes. Yet there were no sign any of these creatures had been wounded, nothing at all.

Then one day my dad had three visitors, the Quileute elders and they shut themselves in his study. Being a curious young boy I settled by the air vent in the cellar knowing I could hear everything that was said from here. Maybe they had a lead on the animals that had vanished without trace, if so I could tell my friends and hopefully we could return to our camp in the forest that was forbidden us for weeks now. There was a scraping of chair legs as the four sat down and then I recognised Quils father speak.

"Charles we have something to tell you about the attacks. The elders have spoken long about this but we believe the killers will be back and we need you to keep the townsfolk out of the forest a while longer, until we hunt them down and kill them."

"Wait, you know where the animals are? Why haven't you told me? I have a group of volunteers ready to go, all competent hunters."

"Not competent to hunt your killers trust me."

"Explain yourself Quil."

"I need you to keep an open mind Charles. Can you do that?"

"Just get on with it."

"Very well. You know of our legends, the guardian wolf pack and the Cold Ones."

"Look I don't have time for a recap of your legends Quil. I have a pack of animals out there, killers who've tasted human flesh and you're telling me they'll be back."

"They will but they are not animals Charles, not as you think of them."

"So what are they?"

"Cold ones Charles"

Jeremiah's fathers reply was deadly serious and I shivered.

"Cold ones? The blood drinkers of your stories? Do you think I'm a fool? They don't exist except in your legends."

"Really? Then what killed your friends? Animals that can move through the forest at will leaving no trace of their passing?"

"OK I accept its strange but creatures of legend? If so how can you kill them?"

"We only know the truth of our words because our young men began to phase after the killings."

"Phase? What the hell does that mean?"

"It means our young men are becoming the wolf spirits of legend, the only things that can kill the Cold Ones."

I heard my father laugh but it lacked conviction,

"Wolf warriors and Cold Ones? I don't know what you are trying to pull but it's not working. I'm leading a group of hunters into the forest tomorrow, there's been some more deaths in the mountains so we know which way to direct our search. These killers are going down before they kill anyone else."

"If you go after them you will all die Charles. Please let us solve this problem so no one else needs to perish."

I knew my dad better than that, once he made up his mind nothing would change it, especially not stupid legends and he was the law in these parts, he would feel himself responsible to keep the townsfolk safe. It was only a few minutes later that the elders realising they wouldn't change his decision left and I crept up to my bedroom and into bed. Since my mother died bringing my brother into the world my dad and I had lived alone and suddenly I was scared that I was going to lose him too. My little brother had only lived a few days before joining our mother in the cemetery and I wondered what would happen to me if he too were killed.

The next morning I was up and dressed before he got home from work and ignoring his order to stay out of the forest I ran to the reservation starting at every noise as I did so. I'd almost begun to believe that there were demons in the forest and I was heartily glad to break free of the trees and see the village up ahead. I made my way to our den on the outskirts hoping some of the others would show up so I could tell them what I'd heard. It was almost lunchtime before Amos and Jeremiah appeared and they were surprised to see me but sat down to listen as I told them of the meeting I'd overheard the night before.

"Did you believe what they said?"

I shook my head,

"No, do you?"

They looked at each other and shrugged,

"They are our tribal legends, we've heard them since we were babies."

"But men turning into wolves? Cold Ones?"

Jeremiah being the bravest of our number sat up suddenly

"I know, lets follow your father. If there really are demons in the forest we might get to see them."

I wasn't sure I wanted to go through the forest again but I didn't want the others to think I was scared either so I nodded reluctantly.

"OK, I'll steal some food from the kitchen, you get one of your dads rifles and we'll follow the trackers."

So, the next day when my father and the hunters entered the forest they were shadowed by four young boys armed with one rifle, a hunting knife, and a bow and arrows. I sincerely hoped we wouldn't meet any demons because I wasn't sure we had enough weapons to kill them. My father thought I was staying with my Aunt Clara in town and she thought I was staying with the Blacks on the reservation so I wouldn't be missed. The others often went foraging in the forest overnight so no one would query their disappearance unless we were away for more than a few days. We were careful not to make a lot of noise and keep far enough back not to be discovered and by the end of the first day we hadn't seen anything suspicious. Our camp was fun even though we couldn't light a fire. Instead we rolled ourselves in our blankets and talked quietly until sleep overtook us.

The next day we were up early and ready when the men set off, expecting today would be a repeat of yesterday but we were mistaken, badly mistaken. Nothing happened all morning and we were getting a little bored just following the hunters when suddenly the men up ahead stopped and we heard strange noises, snarls and growls. I lifted dads rifle and looked around wide-eyed with fear but when the attack came it was the men these creatures went for. Three figures burst through the trees and launched themselves at my father and his companions. Bullets seemed to have no affect on them and as we watched horrified the hunters were taken down one by one, literally torn to pieces and then I saw the reason for the attack. One of the figures, a woman with long dark hair bit into my dads throat and started to suck out his blood. I was about to fire when Jeremiah knocked my arm,

"Don't or they'll know we're here and kill us too."

There was another set of snarls and from behind us six huge wolves crossed the open space and set about the three attackers biting huge chunks out of their bodies and throwing them across the forest floor. They were too late to save the hunters but they killed the attackers then vanished noiselessly back the way they had come ignoring our little party.

Behind them a single figure stood looking in our direction,

"Amos get out here with your friends"

We all recognised Amos father although none of us had seen him until now. Shocked and guilty we walked forward into a haze of strangely perfumed smoke which was all that remained of the attackers. The bodies of the hunters were laid together in a heap, my father on top and I ran to him praying he might be alive but of course he too was dead. He lay pale and unmoving, a terrible wound at his throat although there was little blood, I was right his body had been drained. So the guardian wolves and the Cold Ones existed after all. I had witnessed the battle between them, the battle that had come too late to save my father and his friends. What use were the guardian wolves if they arrived too late to save people?