"Never forget:

We walk on hell,

Gazing at flowers."

-Kobayashi Issa

Briella watched in fixed fascination as the ants scurried around anxiously, bumping into each other quickly and occasionally as they all struggled in panic as more and more ants joined in to help carry the orange slice she dropped.

Her eyes were crossed as they focused in to the ants, her arms folded neatly beneath her chin as she watched like a fascinated child.

She smiled, glancing up towards the grey sky as a fresh wind breezed by, causing goose bumps to appear on her arms. She loved this weather.

Her smile slowly faded away as she once again fixed her focus upon the struggling ants. She frowned in concentration as she watched the stressed ants. She brought the orange up to her lips, chewing thoughtfully.

She had always been fascinated by these little insects, even as a child. She hated it when they would bite her, but she loved that you could easily squish them with your finger. She was fascinated at their "team work" skills, frowning or smiling when they managed to carry their food safely home.

She froze when she heard a rustling sound.

But she kept her gaze on the ants, her gaze now frozen in alert and cautiousness. She felt her chest tighten as her heart struggled to beat fast in fear, her pulse rising.

She swallowed, but kept still, everything suddenly so much louder as she waited for another sound.

She held her breath when she a heard a loud huff, it sounded like an animal had sneezed…perhaps a coyote or mountain lion.

She turned slightly when she heard a bush so close to her rustle, her green eyes widening only slightly as she beheld the greatest animal she'd ever seen.

She could see the glossy russet-coloured fur burst out through the wet green of the background. It seemed to be a bear, the size was too large for any other animal, yet it seemed to be something else.

Briella held her breath as the strange animal sniffed at the bush, she tensed when she felt it stiffen, its breath stopping and the bush rustling slowly as it ducked its head to level with Briella's.

She turned fully but slowly, her eyes capturing the ones of the animal. She was surprised to meet warm, dark eyes, reminding her of a boy she met in France.

The animal was a wolf. An enormous wolf.

Briella swallowed her eyes now wide in awe. The creature was beautiful. Its glossy fur seemed to glow, its human-like eyes a warm black eyes gazing back into hers intently.

It sniffed at her, as if memorizing her. She kept still, not wanting the creature to leave nor attack.

Suddenly the wolf tensed up again, its eyes snapping towards something behind her, its eyes narrowing only slightly before glancing back down at her.

He let out a little huff, as if relieving its nose of her scent before turning its back on her and walking away, seeming to blend into the forest as it disappeared from her view.

Briella simply blinked for a moment, processing what had just happened, her heart still fraught to beat faster but failing as it began to quiver in struggle.

She winced but she focused her eyes on the ants, their scurrying movements entrancing her and calming her.

She continued to watch them for about thirty minutes more before she heard loud footsteps approach. She rolled her eyes, knowing who it was.

"Briella! You're wasting your time! Let's go, or I shall die!" Christina groaned loudly, marching up to Briella and nudging her side gently with her foot.

Christina was Briella's oldest sister. She was twenty years-old, her hair a syrup-coloured blonde, with dark hazel eyes and freckled skin inherited from her mother.

When their two younger brothers weren't around to pick on, she would seek out Briella.

But Briella kept her concentrated gaze on the ants, frowning only slightly as she replied, "So then die."

"…You're the meanest woman I've met." Christina gasped dramatically, her hazel eyes widening comically.

Briella suppressed her grin, glancing up at her sister before they both burst into giggles. Christina held her hand out to help her sister up; Briella threw down the rest of the orange to the ants, making them scatter in panic before scurrying back towards the orange in hurried anxiety.

Briella clapped her hands against her thighs to wipe off the orange juice off her fingers, her hands sticky and smelling of orange perfume. "Where to, dearest?" Briella asked in mock formality as she and her sister linked arms and walked towards home.

Christina turned slowly towards her sister, a smirk on her face as she pointed her finger towards the heavens and cried, "The Batmobile!" before running off, causing Briella to chuckle before racing off after her sister.

"I believe you must've forgotten, Christi, that you're currently and temporarily banned from driving your vehicle. Therefore, we have no Batmobile." Briella smirked when they made it home, both of them panting, their breaths visible in the cold air.

"Oh, Joseph and Mary, you're right!" Christina groaned, leaning her hands on her thighs as she bent over to catch her breath.

"What the feck is the matter with you two? You look like you had a ghost at yer tails! What were yous thinkin', running in this weather? You'll die o' a cold! Get in right now, yous two!" A voice snapped loudly, the voice thick with a Scottish accent.

Their mother, Dianna was a vulgar and scandalous woman. She cursed like a sailor and had the devil's temper. She often spoke in proverbs, lecturing her children, a complete irony compared to her vicious personality.

She was a blonde, hazel-eyed Scottish native, standing up only to 5 feet and three inches.

"Sorry, ma." They both muttered, ducking their heads as they entered the house and past their mother.

Their mother scowled at them, lightly swatting the back of Briella's head as she passed her.

"No doubt it were you who got caught up with nature; I swear you were born fer it! By Christ, sit down yous two, I'll serve the dinner." Dianda scowled, patting their heads as she helped them hang their coats.

"How are my two goms?" their father cooed as he entered the house, kissing his daughters' cheeks before embracing his wife.

Their father, Shaun, was an Irish man with black hair and green eyes. He was an enormous man, his height inherited from his Italian mother, standing up to 6 feet and ten inches. He was a quiet, reserved man, calm and serene compared to his wife.

"Hmph! And to think these are only two out o' our four!" His wife scowled but blushed at his kiss, "Where are those two jackeens?" she crowed as her hazel eyes scanned the kitchen like a hawk for any sign of the two missing trouble makers.

"Those two wouldn't be such gurs if you didn't pest 'em often, ma!" Christina scowled, causing her mother to turn to her angrily, her hands on her hips as she prepared to snap back.

The two missing 'goms' were their little brothers, Conor and Stiofán.

Conor and Stiofán were twins; they were twelve years of age.

Both had blonde shaggy locks and mischievous green eyes and whimsical, freckled faces.

They were thick as thieves, those two.

"Hmph! There you two are! Wash up fer dinner, boys, I won't have you two sittin' at me table with those dirty-lookin' faces!" Dianna scolded as her sons came in through the door, their pale cheeks now pink with cold.

"Sorry, ma! This little gobdaw was just a-foosterin' about!" Conor swatted Stiofán's head, causing him to scowl. "A-bup-bup! Don't give me any of yer guff, just wash up and eat!" Dianna snapped, waving them towards the bathroom.

"How's LaPush treatin' us?" Shaun asked once they were done praying for their food, serving his wife's plate. "I like it!" Stiofán piped up, his grin alight with excitement, "I hear there's wolves here!"

"Oh, may the light of heaven shine on yer grave!" Dianna sighed exasperatedly, rolling her eyes.

Stiofán scowled, "It's true! Isn't that right, Conor? Our neighbor's boy told us! They've seen them around often, too!"

Conor nodded vigorously in agreement, unable to verbally do so since his mouth was full of food.

But Briella kept quiet about the wolf she saw, wanting to avoid dispute with her mother.

"Well, you make sure to stay away from that forest from now on, you hear that, Briella?" Dianna scolded her from across the table, "And please, no elbows on the table!" "Sorry, ma." Briella blushed sheepishly.

"May the rocks in your road turn to gold."

-Irish Proverb

Paul rolled his eyes once his back was turned towards the girl. He had forgotten her name immediately after she told him what it was.

This was typical, and he was good at handling it.

"You'll call me, right?" she attempted a purr, practically sprawling herself on his back as he leaned over to tie his shoes.

"Hm." He grumbled simply, tensing under her touch, wanting nothing more but to rip her off him. "You can call me for whatever you need, Pauly." She sighed contently, pressing her cheek against his shoulder, snaking her arms around his waist.

He rolled his eyes, knowing she was doing this just to feel his abs.

…Slut.

But he smirked anyway.

He stood, causing her to stumble unto the bed once more. She frowned but got up too, she handed him his jacket.

He snatched it out of her hands.

"…Wasn't I good?" she practically begged like a child seeking approval. He simply stared at her.

This was what he hated. They always begged, always asked what they did wrong, always wanted to know what they could've possibly done to set him off.

But this was just him.

Her eyes were a little watery, he could smell the faint salt of her tears, her hair was a mess after all the tugging he had done to it.

He simply turned away, shrugging his coat on (it was unnecessary though, his wolf temperature was enough to keep him warm but he loved this jacket and did not appreciate this girl touching it).

She stood hastily, walking over to him, carefully wrapping her arms around his waist, resting her cheek on his chest, trying to feel comforted and wanting him to hold her in return.

He simply waited until she pulled away. "See you later." She sniffled angrily, shoving the door open, now angered by his coldness.

He simply nodded in thanks before walking out; ignoring that she slammed the door behind him.

He never understood why he did this.

Sure, he knew it was wrong of him to abuse of good looks and advantage over women but he couldn't help it sometimes.

The wolf was like a second person in his head, egging him on to pursue whatever it begged.

Whether it was hunting random vampires or having mindless sex, he had to obey. Sam and Jared always said that he could fight the darkness of their nature, but he knew deep down inside that it wasn't just the wolf, it was him as well.

But these were things he would never confess to the pack, nor verbally nor in thought, so he never commented on the subject again.

It made him feel bad sometimes, taking advantage of a woman like he did, but he just always did it.

As a young teen he would pursue this to relieve himself from the anger that just always seemed to be buried deep inside, and now that the anger was frozen (thanks to Sam whom always encouraged him to control his anger), practically branded into his heart, he did it just out of habit.

He knew he could always imprint, but the thought disgusted him sometimes.

What if he imprinted on a child like Quil and Jake? Wouldn't that make him a pedophile? Didn't that make Quil and Jake pedophiles?

He snickered at the thought.

But other times (most of the times) he usually just dismissed the thought. He never quite understood how Sam, Jared, Quil, Jake, and Collin could handle the 'pull' towards the imprint.

It was fucking ridiculous.

"Hey, Pauly-yo!" Atlöe's annoying, half-accented voice rang in Paul's ears when he entered the garage, giving him a headache.

Paul rolled his eyes.

"Bitch." He cursed lowly, tossing his jacket on a nearby chair and getting out his tools.

"Hey, man, how's it going? Fuck, dude, I just got back from John's lumberyard, you know John right? The tall scary dude with that one messed up eye? Yeah, well he says that Becky was out with some dude, right? You know Becky, right? The one with the re-"

Paul closed his eyes, taking in deep breaths and mentally counting to ten, but Atlöe's annoying voice just always seemed to slice right through his thoughts.

"Man, I told you that woman was a bitch! Talkin' like that to Neddy, poor Neddy. But he was a little bitch sometimes, to-"

Paul acted out of instinct, the wolf wanting nothing more than to just punch Atlöe senseless.

He knocked his table over, appearing in front of Atlöe in two angry strides.

He grabbed Atlöe's shirt-collar with only one fist, slamming his back against a wall. He raised his fisted hand in warning, "If you don't shut the fuck up right now, I will fucking rip your goddamn teeth out." He threatened quietly through clenched teeth.

Atlöe's eyes were wide but Paul was vexed to realize that Atlöe wasn't radiating any true fear.

Atlöe was used to this now.

As much as Paul hated to admit it, Atlöe was a fearless bastard. He was used to Paul's little outbursts and short temper but he knew Paul would never actually rip his goddamn teeth out.

"Calm the fuck down, man! What's up? Was it a girl that got you into this mood? I knew it! Man, Paul, you gotta learn, dude! If you talk nice to a lady she'll go straight to your bed, man! You're always so hostile towards girls, you know that, Paul? You're real, real rude sometimes. Completely puzzles me, man." Atlöe shook his head, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Paul had just threatened him with raised fists.

Paul was trembling now, his body shaking with each tremble vibrating through his bones.

He released Atlöe with an angry shove, his back connecting with the wall with a loud thump!

"Ey, man, that fucking hurt!" Atlöe protested angrily as Paul walked towards the other side of the garage, angrily punching at a nearby tool cabinet.

"Ah, that fucking son of a bitch." Atlöe sighed as he shook his head, kneeling down to pick up the mess Paul caused when he threw his table over, "He gotta learn!"

Paul stayed over there, not wanting to risk losing it in front of Atlöe, knowing Sam would definitely screw him over if he Atlöe were to figure anything out.

"Now, you think about what you have done!" Atlöe scolded Paul mockingly.

Paul glared daggers at his head, comforting himself in the thought that perhaps one day Atlöe would do something bad enough to deserve a real punch in the face.

They both turned when they heard an accented voice ask, "Is this Jones' Garage?"

"Why, yes, as a matter of fact, this indeed is Jones' Garage." Atlöe smiled that whimsical smile of his, "Hello there, welcome to Jones' Garage. How may I help you since my partner is currently disabled?"

The woman seemed to be in her late-thirties or early-forties. She had blonde hair with hazel eyes and pale, freckled cheeks.

She gave Atlöe a strange look but handed him a piece of paper, "My husband needs all those fer his car." She said, her voice containing a beautiful accented lilt.

"Say, ma'am, where you from?" Atlöe asked curiously, smiling at the accent. The woman tossed her blonde head, "I'm a Scottish woman and proud o' it! I was born and made in Edinburgh."

"I'm Atlöe Pomeroy, you must be Mrs. McGeagh." Atlöe extended his hand for a shake.

"So the boy does have manners." Paul chuckled quietly to himself at Atlöe's display of politeness.

Mrs. McGeagh shook his hand, her chubby little fingers holding a firm grip. Paul could tell from where he was.

"Pleased t' meet'cha, Mr. Pomeroy, I sincerely hope that you get to my husband's list, he needs those thingeys soon." She nodded, waving her hand towards the list in Atlöe's hand.

"I'll get right to it, ma'am," Atlöenodded obediently, "Thank you for coming by." "Thank yer fer yer help, young sleeveen, I'll come by when they're ready to be picked up." She nodded, shaking his hand once more and leaving the garage.

"What the fuck was that, Pomeroy?" Paul demanded from where he was.

Atlöe waggled his eyebrows suggestively; "If the mom likes you then she'll introduce you to her daughters…" he trailed off, shrugging.

Paul shook his head in disgust. "You're a bastard."