Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own Twilight or any of the respective characters from the published books by the amazing Stephenie Meyer. If I did, I would most likely be sitting on my own private beach sipping tropical punch out of a coconut right now instead of writing this. Anything/anyone you don't recognize I probably do own.

In addition, this is my first Twilight fic. I'm kind of excited about it, but a little nervous. Either way, I hope you enjoy it, because that's what this is all about! So go ahead, read and have fun and, if you so desire, leave some feedback. :)

Full Summary: Kora knows things will never be the same. After her father's death, she has to move in with her grandmother on the Quileute reservation. There, she meets a pack of good-hearted teenage werewolves. Slowly, she starts to become somewhat like her old self again. But something is hunting Kora, and it won't stop until it sucks her dry.

Chapter One: Broken

Kora

There was so much blood.

It was everywhere. Dripping down the walls, soaking into my mother's expensive Persian rug. I could smell it, salty and bitter, burning my nose. I tried to scream, but I could barely even breathe. The football game was still playing on the television, but I could hardly hear the announcers' playful banter. I could only hear the slurping from the figure bent over the limp, broken body of my father.

He was missing an arm. It lay at my feet.

The figure whirled to face me so fast I didn't actually see the movement. It was like the first and last page of a flipbook comic. She was crouched over my father, and then she was grinning sadistically at me with eyes the same color as the blood dripping from her perfect lips.

She was beautiful. She was deadly.

The scream finally tore from my chest, filling the room, reaching pitches I'd never dreamed of hitting in choir class. The figure faltered, covered her ears, yelled at me to stop. I couldn't. I screamed until there was no air left in my lungs and then screamed some more. I could see my father's throat, ripped open and still bleeding. So much blood.

I closed my eyes, drew a breath, and my screams continued.

"Stop it!" the woman screeched.

No.

"Kora, stop!"

He can't be dead.

"Koraline!"

I swung my fists blindly and they met with something soft and warm. Someone made a noise of surprise and a pair of hands gripped my wrists. "No! Daddy! No!" I cried.

"Kora, baby, open your eyes!" This wasn't that deadly creature's voice. It was warm, but scared. I did as I was told. Soft brown eyes stared into mine. They sat under a brow creased with concern, and below there was a mouth twisted into a worried frown.

"Mama," I sobbed. She gathered me into her arms, running her fingers over my back, her fingernails scratching comforting little circles the way she always did when I was little. My surroundings slowly clicked into place. An old, brown, coffee-stained rug covered the floor. An ancient grandfather clock chimed seven o'clock AM in the corner. I was sitting on a worn out old couch that used to be white, but was now tan from years of use. My legs were tangled up in the blankets, and it looked as if my mother had knocked the rickety old wooden coffee table over in her effort to get to me.

I wasn't in our big old farmhouse in New Mexico. There was no bloodstained Turkish rug or lifeless, torn up body. I was in my grandmother's little house, in my mom's vice-like grip. I was safe. Why didn't I feel that way?

The light flicked on. A tall, thin woman stood in the doorway. Her long black hair, streaked through with white, was pulled back in a bun at the nape of her neck. She squinted at us, making the crows feet in her dark skin slightly more pronounced. Even in her nightdress and slippers, she was lovely.

"What's going on?" she asked, groggy but concerned. Another figure appeared beside her, a boy, my age, with skin the same shade as the woman he stood beside.

"Did she have another nightmare?" the boy asked. He was annoyed. I didn't blame him. I'd been waking up my poor cousin and grandmother three times a week since my mother and I had moved in the month before.

"Hush, Timothy," my grandmother snapped.

With difficulty, I pulled out of my mother's arms. "Sorry," I croaked, my throat sore from screaming. "Sorry." I repeated my apology. No one responded. Tim pursed his lips and wandered back down the hall to his room. Mom stroked my hair.

"I'll start coffee," Aunt Talia, as my grandmother insisted on being called (she didn't like how old the words "grandma" or "nana" made her feel) said. She cast me one more sympathetic look before disappearing into the kitchen. Mom didn't say anything. I know she must have heard me scream for my father. I also know she avoided talking about what happened at all costs, just like I did. No one would ever believe I walked in on my dad being sucked dry by a beautiful woman. After a few silent moments in which she wiped my face with the end of her sleeve, Mom leaned in to kiss my forehead and stood up to silently follow Aunt Talia into the kitchen.

Slowly, I untwisted the blanket from around my legs and stood up. My dark hair, despite being slept on wet, still hung limp and straight over my shoulders. I wandered into the guest room, occupied by my mother, and fished some clothes out of my side of the closet without really looking at what I chose. I didn't really care. I pulled on the jeans and white sweater, followed by a mismatched pair of socks and my worn brown clogs.

I added too much sugar to my coffee, but drank it anyway while I waited for Tim to finish showering. When he appeared in the doorway, looking like the epitome of Mr. High School in his blue polo and khaki cut-offs, his shaggy hair still dripping from his shower, I shuffled into the steamy bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth. After rinsing my mouth with water, I caught my reflection out of the corner of my eye. I swept my hand over the mirror to wipe away the steam on the glass. Of course, I didn't like what I saw. Not that it really mattered. There was nothing I could do about my skin, which looked pasty white next to Tim's deep russet, or the dark circles under my icy gray eyes. I would have to go to school, and somehow manage to ignore the stares I was going to get for being the only white girl in school.

It was pure good fortune that I was so good at feeling nothing lately.

On my way back to the kitchen, I turned the coffee table back over so it was right side up. When I arrived in the room, Tim was arguing with Aunt Talia about me. He didn't want to drive me to school. Probably had something to do with my paleness, but whatever. I wouldn't want to be seen with me either. I stood and waited it out, not really caring how I got to school. Walk, drive, carpool, bus. What did it matter? Talia eventually put her foot down and told him that if he didn't take me to school and help me find the main office she would take away his driving privileges. Harsh, but it worked.

We drove to school in silence, Tim fuming to himself. He didn't even wait for me to get out of the car before stomping off towards the building. I had to double my usual pace to catch up with him before I lost him in the throng of students milling about in the courtyard. They all stared at me, surprised and probably wondering what I was doing there. It was a small school, everyone probably knew everyone else. With any luck, they'd get over the anomaly of me in a week or two and I could fade into the background.

Tim led me into the building and down the hall, then left me standing in a little room with an empty desk. I stood there stupidly with my late breakfast (a cold pop tart) in my hand and a bewildered expression on my face.

"Why so scared?" a deep voice asked. I jumped. I hadn't noticed the man lounging in one of the guest chairs. Actually, he looked more like two men forged together. He was huge. And I don't mean he was fat, he was just built that way. Broad chest, thick arms, big hands. All that. He chuckled.

"Huh?" I replied.

The man cocked his head to the side and surveyed me with obvious curiosity. "I asked why you're so scared. You look like you've just seen a werewolf." He grinned, like we were sharing some kind of inside joke, only I was on the outside.

"I'm new."

"Duh," he replied, kind of childishly for his age. "I figured that out all by myself." He eyed me.

I cocked my head to the side and allowed for a little bit of humor to enter my voice. "It's because I'm albino, isn't it?"

He let out a bark of laughter just as a small woman bustled into the room. Apparently I wasn't the only white person in school. She still had a better tan than me, though. She froze when she saw the man I'd been talking to and gave him a reprimanding look.

"Mr. Ateara, class has not even started yet and you're already getting sent down?" she sighed.

Mr. Ateara grinned, his white teeth contrasting beautifully with his dark skin. "I thought I'd start the year with my best foot forward."

The little woman shook her head and dumped a pile of papers onto her previously immaculate desk. "I'd hoped you would have outgrown detention by now. You've certainly outgrown everything else!"

This threw me off. "He goes here?"

Suddenly noticing my presence, the woman gave me a strange look. "Yes."

I looked at the man, who was now smirking. "As a student?"

My dumbfounded reaction seemed to please him for some reason. He stood up and held out one large hand. "Quil Ateara, at your service." I gingerly shook his hand, still shocked. As I pulled my hand away, he leaned in suddenly. "If you think I'm big, wait 'til you meet my friends." He winked. I stared.

"Mr. Ateara, please stop frightening the new student," the woman requested. I looked over at her. "I assume that's why you are here?" I nodded. She seemed to be waiting for something. After a moment, she said, "Well, what's your name? I'll need it if you want me to find you your schedule in this mess." She motioned to her desk.

"Oh, sorry," I replied. "I'm, um, Kora. Kora Wolfe." As the woman started looking through papers, Quil chuckled to himself. Another private joke, apparently.

"Koraline Louis Wolfe?" she asked, reading from a paper. I flinched. Yes, you read that right. Not "Louise." It's "Louis."

"Yes, thank you," I said quickly, accepting the papers from her.

"The first page is your schedule. The rest are forms your parent or guardian will need to fill out and return to me as soon as possible."

"Okay. Thank you, Miss…"

"Smith," she supplied. Well, that's easy enough to remember. "Mrs. Smith."

"Right. Mrs. Smith. Thanks for your help." I looked down at my schedule and frowned. The rooms were all letter/number combinations, and I had no idea where any of them were. Mrs. Smith seemed to notice my dismay.

"Mr. Ateara," she said. "I'll cut you a deal. Help Miss Wolfe find her first class and I'll let you off the hook for now."

"Sounds good to me!" Quil replied, the first bell of the day playing behind his good-humored chuckle. He grabbed my arm eagerly and steered me out of the office before Mrs. Smith could change her mind. My schedule disappeared from my hands and I looked over to see that Quil was studying it. He was so fast. Pictures flashed through my mind. A pale figure crouched over a limp body, crimson eyes studying me, a mocking smile. "Oh, you have two classes with me, and lunch. Luck is on your side, my friend." I blinked, snapping out of the horrible flashback, and looked up at his smiling face. Quil was nothing like that terrible creature. For one, his skin was about a thousand times darker, and his eyes were just plain old brown.

He seemed to be waiting for an answer, so I supplied him with the simplest one possible. "Cool."

"First period history and seventh period algebra two you've got with me. Then there's fifth period lunch you have with all of us. The guys are great and I'm sure Kim will be glad to have another girl around." Why was he so enthusiastic? It was a little intimidating. He shot me a slightly guilty look. "That is, if you want to sit with us I mean. I guess I just assumed…"

"That's fine," I said.

Quil grinned, the wind back in his sails apparently. "Sweet. You'll like everyone." He turned back to my schedule. "I may be wrong, but I think you have a couple of classes with Embry…" I nodded like I knew who Embry was, even though I didn't. Quil didn't seem to notice. He kept prattling on about which of his friends I might have what class with, and I listened, trying to look politely interested when really I just wanted to get to class so I could find a seat all the way in the back where no one could look at me. "So is your middle name really Louis?"

I stared down at my shoes. "It's a family thing." My father, my father's father, my father's father's father, etcetera, were all named Louis Wolfe. They were also all firstborn sons. It was kind of a tradition, but when my dad's firstborn was a girl he couldn't exactly name me Louis. At least, not if he didn't want me to get ridiculed all my life. He settled for making it my middle name.

"That's cool," Quil replied. He fell silent for a few moments. "You're not much of a talker, are you?"

I looked up at him blankly. "No." He didn't need to know that I used to talk so much I got detention for it. That was…before.

Quil just smiled and stopped, swinging a door open for me. "Here we are!" He swept me inside, rather overdramatically, just as the late bell rang. The teacher, a tall and lanky man with a pair of wire rimmed glasses perched on his nose, looked at us from his place leaning against his desk.

"Ah, Mr. Ateara, how nice of you to join us," he said. Just as I thought, even the teachers know all the students. "But who's this?"

"New student, Mr. Brock," Quil explained for me. I guess he's pretty useful in that area. I liked that he talked for me. "Her name's Kora Wolfe and she's in this class." He held my schedule out as proof.

Mr. Brock took my schedule, looked it over, and handed it to me. "Yes, thank you, Quil, now if you'd please let Miss Wolfe speak for herself?"

"Right, sorry." Quil looked at me apologetically and slunk off to take one of the few seats left, which happened to be in the back and next to another empty seat. I knew where I was going to sit.

"So, Kora, is it?" Mr. Brock asked.

"Yes," I replied.

"Why don't you tell us a little about yourself? Obviously, you're not from around here." If I'd cared, I might have blushed at the reference to my light skin and the snicker it got from my staring peers. Luckily, I didn't. Care, I mean.

"I'm from New Mexico," I offered. Mr. Brock just stared, waiting for me to elaborate. Unwillingly, I did. "I'm only one fourth Quileute, so that's why I'm so blindingly pale." I tried to make light of my situation. I used to be great at that, but apparently I sucked at it now because no one laughed, they all just gaped or sneered. Actually, that's not entirely true. Quil laughed, but I was beginning to think he was a little biased for some reason. "Um, yeah, so I'm staying with my grandmother, Talia Walt." There was a flicker of recognition on a few faces, including Mr. Brock's. When he saw that I wasn't going to say anything more, he directed me to take a seat next to Quil.

"Wow," the large boy said, leaning towards me. "I think that's the most I've heard you say so far."

I just shrugged and ate my pop tart.

The period went by fairly fast. It was mostly just handing out papers and explaining what they were for. Quil and I chatted the entire time. Or, rather, Quil chatted and I listened the entire time. As the bell rang, I stuffed everything into my Jansport backpack and followed him out into the hall. He pointed me in the direction of my next class, then disappeared with a pleasant, "See you at lunch!"

I let myself get pulled along with the crowd, most of whom were pointing and whispering behind their hands. I did my best to ignore them, instead concentrating on the numbers over the doors as they passed by. D-55…D-57…D-59. There it was. I forced my way out of the parade of students and through the door of my creative writing class. Most of the seats were already taken, my classmates having made themselves quite comfortable before I arrived. Some hulk of a boy (I assumed this was one of the friends Quil warned me about) was even passed out in the back row. Everyone else was, of course, looking at me like I had five heads. The bell rang, and the teacher strolled in with it. She was a young and pretty woman with curly brown hair and skin that was, if it's possible, even paler than mine. She let the door slam closed behind her and walked over to drop her briefcase on her desk. The sleeping kid didn't even flinch.

The teacher gave me a quick once-over as she turned to scrawl her name on the board. "For those of you who don't know me," she said, "I'm Miss Prowley." I'm guessing that was mostly for my benefit. She turned to me. "Who are you?" The question wasn't belligerent, just curious.

"Um, Kora Wolfe," I responded, holding up my schedule. "I'm in this class."

Without even looking at the slip of paper, Miss Prowley nodded and smiled. "Welcome to creative writing class, Kora." She turned back to the bored and I just stood there awkwardly. Her eyes moved back to me. "Do you need something else?"

"No, um, it's just, uh, where should I sit?" I stuttered.

Miss Prowley surveyed me for a second, then looked around the room. There were a few random seats, most of them close to the front. I hoped she wouldn't make me sit near the front. Please, God, anything but the front. She pursed her lips, then said, "I know. Why don't you sit next to whichever boy you think is the cutest?" Okay, anything but the front, omitting that. Her statement seemed to gain everyone's attention, with the exception of the sleeping guy, who was still completely knocked out.

I gaped at her. "You're joking."

"Do I look like I'm joking?" she asked.

"…No." And she didn't. Her face was 100 serious. She leaned against the side of the desk and waited. I inwardly groaned and outwardly grimaced. She was really going to make me do it. Reluctantly, I looked around the room. Most of the girls were giggling to themselves, but I noticed one was giving me a sympathetic look. She was sitting in front of the sleeping boy. As for the other boys in the class, most of them looked vaguely interested, and one of them looked almost expectant. I'll admit, he was cute. His skin was dark, though not as dark as some, and his eyes were shockingly blue. His hair was cropped short and was gelled into a messy look he probably thought was chic. If it wasn't for the smug look on his face, I might have picked him, but he was so obviously full of himself that I was immediately turned off. Besides, he was already surrounded by a faithful legion of girls. He didn't need another one.

At that point, I was distracted by a small white object whizzing through the air and nailing the sleeping kid on the top of the head. It cracked and crumbled, and I realized that Miss Prowley had thrown her chalk at him. I actually found that quite humorous, which was a surprise because I never found anything funny anymore. I might have laughed, but any giggles that formed instantly died in my throat when the boy, shouting something about tacos, jerked upright and looked around for a moment before locking eyes with me. To say he froze would be an understatement. He actually went completely rigid. It looked like someone electrocuted him or something, the way his body stiffened. His dark, soulful eyes grew to the size of saucers and his lips parted just enough to reveal the stark white of his teeth.

"Reina, move," Miss Prowley said. Her voice broke me out of whatever trance the kid's eyes had put me in. I looked over at her, then followed her gaze to the girl she was talking to.

"But, Miss Prowley!" the girl whined.

"Just do it."

Pouting, the girl gathered her things and moved to a different desk closer to the front. A second too late, I realized that Miss Prowley had assumed from our staring contest that I'd made my choice and thus forced the girl sitting next to the formerly sleeping boy to vacate her seat. Truthfully, I hadn't even really gotten a good look at the kid. I was too preoccupied by his eyes. I opened my mouth to protest, but Miss Prowley interrupted me.

"Sit," she said. There was a tone of finality to her voice, so I shut my mouth and sat. I risked a glance to my right, and saw that he was looking at me again. I blinked, taking in his strong jaw and cheekbones. Like Quil, this boy was also big and mature-looking for his age. His face shifted from awe to annoyance, and he wrinkled his nose like he smelled something funky. I looked away, focusing my attention on Miss Prowley instead. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him turn his head away and look down, his long black hair not quite hiding his scowl. The girl on my left was giving me a dirty look. I guess she wasn't too pleased that I was sitting in her friend's seat.

It was going to be a long period.

Miss Prowley spent the next 45 minutes outlining the course for us and telling us what to expect. Though I tried to focus on what she was saying, my attention kept shifting to the boy next to me. Several times, I glanced his way and caught him looking at me with that same aggravated expression. Each time a shot of anger crossed his face as he looked away. What a weird kid.

"Look," he said as we packed up our supplies list towards the end of the period, "don't expect me to be all chummy with you just because you sit next to me or whatever."

Straightening up and slinging my bag over my shoulder, I realized he was looking at me. "Um, are you talking to me?" I asked.

"Who else?" he snapped. I winced.

"Sorry."

The girl who had the seat in front of him gave him a nasty look before turning to me. "Don't apologize to him," she said, then turned her eyes back to him. "What's the matter with you, Jacob?" He shuddered and pushed past her to the front of the room. She shook her head. "Don't mind him. He treats everyone like that lately. I'm Kim by the way." She smiled, and I noticed that she was pretty in an unconventional way with her wide cheekbones and small eyes. "You're Kora, right?" I nodded. Kim made a face. "You're really bugging about Jake's attitude, huh?"

I cocked my head to the side but my face remained blank. "Huh?"

"You seem bummed. It's understandable, since you think he's cute and all." She winked.

"What? No." Kim's brow furrowed. "I mean, I just don't like talking."

"Oh," she said. The bell rang and we started for the door. "So you don't think he's cute?" I gave a noncommittal shrug. "That's okay." She gave me an apologetic look as we entered the hall. It was an expression I was familiar with, though now it wasn't for the same reason as it was when it came from all the police, neighbors, and people I'd never met who showed up at the funeral. "I'm really sorry about Jake, anyway. Don't take it personally."

"I won't," I replied. Honestly, I didn't really care. He could dislike me all he wanted. It made no difference to me.

Kim smiled. "Good. Let me see your schedule." I handed it to her, and she cheerfully announced that my next class was on the way to hers so she could show me where it was.

I liked Kim. She was really nice, someone I could've been good friends with.

Unfortunately, friendship usually requires opening up to the other party, and that was something I was just incapable of doing.

Aight, waddya think? I don't know about it yet. I'm still feeling out the characters and such. Let me know how you feel about it. Love you all!

-Gina