Author's note:

I had the idea for this story after reading what felt like a hundred stories dealing with what would happen if Edward left Bella pregnant after her birthday party and never came back in time to save her.

Well, here's how I think it happened.

I took the liberty of changing the child's – she doesn't actually have a name yet, and I'm open for suggestions – specifications a little.


P.S I did my best to avoid errors, but I'm not a native. Have mercy! ;-)

Disclaimer: None of the characters belongs to me; they're property of Stephenie Meyer, I'm only borrowing them.


I am at home.

I leave the path used by hikers and quietly weave through the undergrowth. Birds chirp overhead. As I pass by underneath, they fall silent. Then, all of a sudden – and yet expected – they take flight, hundreds of birds leaving the trees all at once. A smile crosses my face.

I pass a collection of rocks I remember well. There – almost three years ago – I had spent my very first night underneath the stars.

I would not stay here tonight, though.

I walk on in excitement. I have been gone for almost a year, and I am glad – ecstatic even – to be back. I wish I had not been forced to leave in the first place – but, then, it had been my own fault entirely, a second of carelessness, and I had promised myself to never let it happen again. I would never leave the heart of the forest, my sanctuary, again.

Here I am safe.

And here people are safe from me.

A river, more than ten feet wide, its current wicked, parts the forest. I have never seen anyone cross it – anyone but me – and, as I catapult myself across in a single stride and land gracefully among the ferns, I feel home more than I ever did among other people.

Now I am almost there.

Nothing has changed. Trees have grown, yes, and I catch the scent of a bear which must have moved in while I was gone. But, apart from that, everything is the same. Redwood trees, the smaller kind, smaller than the ones I saw in Yellowstone, guard my way home. The sun, about to set, casts golden light, and the air is fresh, saturated with the mouth-watering scent of a herd of deer. It is a small herd. Only three or four. I consider going after them now – I am hungry after travelling almost a hundred miles on foot – but I need to see my home first.

I break into a quiet run. My lungs start to burn. I am exhausted, but I am impatient to get there and only when I reach the small clearing where my redwood tree rests among its taller brothers I stop to catch my breath. Tears well up in my eyes as emotions overwhelm me. I have missed home so much. It feels unreal to be here again.

The sky has turned purple, darker blue creeping up on the horizon. Slowly, I walk to meet my tree, the only home I ever knew, and start climbing. I could have reached my sleeping-place in seconds, but I savour the familiar feeling of the bark underneath my fingers.

Then I am there. Everything is the way I left it. The blanket I stole when I first ran away and never got a chance to replace. A stuffed cat, a gift from the only one of my foster mother's I actually liked, lies underneath it. I gently touch its ear, then reach into the pocket of the pair of jeans I stole on my way back and pull out a blue ribbon. I press it against my face. Its scent is comforting. It is one of the few things that remind me of my mother.

I tie it around the branch where it sways lazily in the breeze. It is not a ribbon, actually. It is a piece of the shirt my mother wore the day she gave birth to me. I smile down at it sadly, then turn. The forest stretches out before my eyes.

Darkness envelopes me. I get to my feet. I am tired, but I need to eat first. I step out of the nest of branches and fall, landing on the ground with a thud. I grin, exhilarated. No. Nothing has changed.

I am at home.