Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight!
Leah crept quietly to the shadows while those around her celebrated. She was thrilled that Forks and La Push were safe from the onslaught of these big shot italian blood suckers. But no one batted an eye at her. Jacob was curled up with Renesmee, Seth was chatting with the other half-breed, and the blood suckers stuck to their own kind. The name Leah Clearwater was not on any of there thoughts, and she would not be missed if she took off. What was the point of staying? Her eyes again found Jacob, and a fresh wave of rejection washed through her. How she had wanted to run off into the sunset with him. To leave La Push and her past behind her. It could have been just the two of them. They could have confided in each other, stayed together, loved each other... a single tear rolled down her cheek.
Damn you, Jacob Black.
The thought surprised her at first. For an instant she wished they were in their wolf forms so he could hear the hurt she felt. But he wouldn't care, just like Sam didn't care when he had imprinted on Emily. It seemed that everyone's feelings got spared around here except hers. Well, she'd change that. She'd run. She'd run until the pads on her feet were cracked and bleeding, until her lungs were about to burst. After that she wouldn't stop running. She could run forever and still feel the hurt and the betrayl. But sh e had to try. Everyone else had a happy ending, and she had to get out of here to try and make a life for herself. She'd forget Jacob Black if it was the last thing she did. She bit her bottom lip when a loud laugh broke through her lament. Seth was laughing loudly with Jacob now.
Jacob would take care of him after she was gone, she knew that. Her kid brother would be fine. He didn't need her anymore, anyway. He liked the reeking blood suckers, afterall. He'd be okay, and he'd help their mother cope with Leah's disappearance.
Take care of him, Jacob. You owe me...
And so, Leah exiled herself to the shadows, and began untying her shoes. She'd leave the clothes behind, the only trace they'd have that a sad girl had once walked these lands. Soon, she'd become a faded memory, a whisper on the wind, and than nothing more than a myth.
"Leah?" Seth asked.
She turned and found her baby brother eying her skeptically. He still bounced on the balls of his feet from the high from the victory, but his brow creased in concern.
"Where are you going?" He asked.
She said the first thing she could think of, and turned back to her shoes. "For a run."
"I'll come with you." He said, kicking off his own shoes.
"No," She said, and despite her best intentions, her voice cracked on the single syllable.
Seth's eyes locked on the ground. "The Cullens aren't so bad, you know." He whispered.
Leah didn't say a word. She finished with her shoes, and placed them neatly by a huge spruce. "A little privacy, Seth?" She asked.
"I bet a race would cheer you up," Seth added helpfully, and kicked off his shoes.
"No, you stay with Jacob."
"Stay with me where?" a voice asked, a voice Leah hated and loved at the same time. She turned her back on her pack for this boy, and then Bella's child came along...
"Leah's sad," Seth told him.
Leah felt her eyes well with angry tears at her brother. Didn't he get it at all? Leah crossed her arms and turned her back on the two. She didn't want to look at Jacob and feel what she knew she would feel, and what he would never give her in return.
Jacob took a few steps forward, and lightly grabbed her elbow. She turned her face from him, but not before the moonlight made her tears glisten. "Hey, are you okay?"
Before Leah could reply, before she could snatch her arm away, before she could declare for him never to touch her again, a small voice rang out in the darkness. "Jacob?"
"Coming, Nessie!" He called, and took a step away from her.
That was all Leah could stand. Swallowing the deep growl in her throat, she snatched her arm back from Jacob's grasp, took a few steps and exploded into her wolf form. As soon as her feet hit the ground, she was off and running, the only trace of her left was the tatters of clothes that fluttered to the land in silence.