This story was written for the Tricky Ravens Author Auction! A lovely lady by the name of Conny purchased yours truly. I won't tell you her prompt, as it gives a lot away for the story. What was suppose to be a one-shot quickly became a full blown story! Expect prompt, steady updating until the finish, as 70% of the story is fully complete.

Takes place after New Moon. It's kind of a more-to-be-revealed story. So things might seem confusing now but...in the words of Belt from the Croods...DUN DUN DUNNNN.

*50*

The blur of white came out of nowhere, streaking across the road faster than her eyes could perceive. For a moment, her mind screamed vampire, but the sick thump of her grill meeting flesh spoke of a living, breathing thing.

She'd barely clipped the animal, but it was enough to send the Tahoe into a tailspin. The truck caught the edge of the road, slipping down into the steep drain ditch before tipping over. Bella was slammed against the driver's side door, window shattering beneath her shoulder. She sucked in a sharp breath as she heard a bone snap, pain racing up her forearm.

With her good arm, she cut the engine. The truck was practically inverted on its side, and wedged deep in the ditch. Her cell was useless this far out, so she grabbed the CB radio off the dash instead. She'd call in for aid before climbing out.

"This is Officer Swan, requesting aid." She released the button, finding relief in the white noise.

"What is your position, Officer Swan?" Dispatch asked.

"I'm out on Old 99. Just past mile marker 63. I crashed my truck." She left out that she was sure her arm was broken to avoid the cavalry of police cars, ambulances, and small town gossip. "Tipped it into the ditch.." Outside, something cracked, and Bella felt the bottom of her stomach drop out as the truck began to slide.

"Officer Swan?" Dispatch crackled, but Bella had already dropped the CB, as she scrambled to unbuckle herself. "Officer Swan, are you there?

It was all in vain. Another branch snapped, and Bella barely had half a mind to buckle herself back up before the truck began to tip. She tucked her broken arm against her chest, and covering her head with the other. The vehicle began to roll, tossing her round and round as it descended the hill, tearing through the young sapling trees. She knew it would be only a matter a time before the trees grew thicker, and the truck would-

BAM.

Everything hurt. Her hair hurt. It was like the worst hangover in the world. It was worse than being thrown around by vampires, or jumping off cliffs. When the Tahoe finally stopped, it did so upside down and violently abrupt. Blind with pain, Bella fumbled with her seat belt, falling head-first into a graceless heap against the roof of the truck. She struggled with the door, weak-fingered and blurry-eyed, but the world turned black before she could climb out.

When she opened her eyes, everything was sideways, and moving. It took her a moment to realize she was being dragged. By something large, and distinctly not human. She panicked, kicking her feet and flailing, but the beast never wavered, its massive jaws clamped tight over the shoulder of her coat. Bella cried out, as her broken arm was jostled, but the sound was drowned out by the echoing snap of a falling tree.

A falling tree falling directly onto her truck.

The beast released her as the massive pine tipped and swayed, landing on the Tahoe with a sickening crunch. The poor, pathetic metal stood no chance against the pine, and crumpled like an eggshell.

Horrified. Shocked. Numb. Bella tipped her head back, and looked up into the eyes of a...of a...

"Holy Shit."

Werewolves. Werewolves in Pleasant Valley. Of course. Because it was a werewolf, no mistake about it. It's snowy fur was a fitting match for any of the local Artic white wolves, but it was easily three times the size.

It stared down at her with whiskey-brown eyes that glinted with a knowing she was far too familiar with.

"You saved me," Bella breathed, recklessly reaching out to touch the wolf. It blanched, jerking away from her hand with a sharp whine. "I'm sorry. I...I...hit you, with my truck. Are you okay?"

The wolf huffed, and licked her forehead. It burned, no doubt where she'd cracked her skull against something or other, in the tumble down the hill. Oh yeah, she thought stupidly. Werewolf healing.

"Bella?"

The voice echoed out through the trees, familiar and gruff; Witkins, her boss. "Down here!" She cried out. "I'm down here!" The wolf paced around her, tail swishing low to the ground, agitated. "Oh, no. You have to go. Don't let them see you!" It whined, and pawed at the ground. "I'm fine, thanks to you. You saved me. But, you have to go, if they see you..."

The wolf pressed its nose against her throat, huffing once, before trotting off through the trees through, tail swishing behind it. Bella pushed herself up from the muddy snow, only to find herself tipping into a tree.

"Whoa, whoa. Hold up Bella, let us come to you," Witkins called out, as he made his way down the wrecked hill. Her truck had cleared a path through the skinny sapling trees and underbrush. Absently, she wondered how they'd get it back out. Looking at the unrecognizable heap of crumpled metal that was once her park-issued vehicle, she figured it was a lost cause anyway.

Jesus. She'd been in that vehicle only a moment before the tree had fallen. If it hadn't been for the wolf, she'd have died for sure. It crept up on Bella all of a sudden, the near-death rush of panic and adrenalin. This...this felt worse, than all the times before. Worse than vampires, and werewolves. Because this? This was a human way to die, perfectly void of the supernatural. This was all her.

Blood thumped in her ear as her heart picked up speed. She felt the air in her lungs thin as she struggled to suck in more. Her vision blurred, head swimming as the world swayed around her. No...no as she swayed, good-hand grasping fruitlessly at the tree beside her in an effort to keep herself upright.

It had been a long time since she'd last had a panic attack.

The next time she woke, it was to a soft orchestra of beep-beep-drip-beep with a background of gentle swishing, and quiet murmurs. The smell of antiseptic and plastic hung heavy in the air.

A hospital. She was more than well acquainted with them.

Blinking her eyes open, Bella flinched against the fluorescent light overhead. The sun peeked through the curtains, bright and mocking. The white board on the wall told her a day had past, and the clock above it read 10:47 AM.

"Rise and shine, princess," Jerry Witkins said from the left of Bella's bed. She turned to look at him, and sucked in a sharp breath as the pain hit her. "Yeah, I bet you're feeling fuckin' peachy right now, huh?"

Bella gaped at her boss. She'd never hurt this bad, and all things considered, that was saying something. Not even breaking her leg had hurt as badly. "I've been spin-cycled."

"An appropriate comparison," Witkins snorted, and pressed the little red button on the bleeping machine, beside her. "Morphine drip. Enjoy it. Objects in motion are supposed to stay in motion. You did not."

"That tree," Bella gasped, remembering the sound it had made, before falling. Like a bone breaking. "I...Jerry. That tree almost fell on me." That tree had almost killed her. A tree, after everything else, after vampires, and repeatedly terrible decision making, a tree had nearly been her end.

"Because flipping your vehicle, and rolling down a hill wasn't enough!" Witkin's face softened. "You gave me quite the scare, Swan. Dispatch called me directly, after sending patrol out your way. They couldn't find your truck at first, but then the tree snapped and...well, I'm glad you're alright, even if you're out of commission."

Bella blanched. "Out of commission? What do you mean-"

Witkins glanced at her arm, strung up in a thick plaster cast. "You broke your arm in three places, cracked two ribs, have a concussion, not to mention a good many cuts and bruises from crawling through glass. You are out of commission until I say so. The whiplash alone would have been enough to keep you down for a week. No arguments."

Scowling, Bella deeply resented her morphine drip in that moment. She couldn't even feel properly angry! "I've had worse!"

"Yeah," he said at length. His mustache twitched, and Bella thought of her father with a pained remembrance. There was a reason she'd come to love Jerry Witkins. "I know you have, and I have a feeling you never really gave yourself a chance to rest. So I'm giving you that now. Eight weeks. After four...I'll think about letting you sit in the visitor center. You can't get on a four-wheeler busted up like that, anyhow. Enjoy the time off, Bella. Give yourself a minute to just...breathe."

Bella looked away, feeling teary eyed and stupid. Helpless. "I hate the visitor center," she grumbled, and Witkins laughed.

"I know! I figured offering it would be the best way to keep you out of my hair. Now, I'll be back to drive you home tomorrow morning, when you're discharged. Got the grunts out running my errands, and picking you up a few odds and ends for the week. Get some sleep."

She watched him go, clearing her throat as he reached the doorway. "...thanks, Wit."

Bella was bored. Her house was small, four walls, four windows, and one door of pure confinement. She was three days into her torture sentence when she just couldn't take it anymore. She shoved her bare feet into her ratty old shoes, and grabbed her keys off the hook by the door.

She just needed some fresh air. And maybe some groceries not bought by sixteen years old, because if she had to eat another hot dog, she might puke.

"Yes, mother." Bella said, phone tucked between her shoulder and ear, as she struggled to balance her bag while trying to shove the key into the door of her ancient truck with the same arm. She should have never answered her phone. Witkins hadn't warned her that her mother knew about the accident! He was going to pay.

"Mom. I'm twenty-three, not five." It wasn't the rusty-red beast she had come to love in Forks, but a massive, ancient clunker nonetheless.

Bella sort of loved it. Maybe not as much as her work-issued Tahoe, but...best not to dwell on that. 'I worry!' Her mother chided, through the phone. 'I never get to see you. You never send pictures.'

"Maybe if you send me your current address?" She fumbled with the keys, making a hasty, almost-instinctual dash to grab them before they could fall in a puddle. It only resulted in them falling in the puddle anyway, as well as the majority of her groceries doing the same. Her two oranges spilled out last, rolling beneath her truck. "Crap. Look, I'll call you in the morning. Yeah. Love you too."

Crouching, Bella gathered up what hadn't made an escape, and stashed them in the now-wet plastic bag. Her ribs twinged as she bent, but the pain was bearable. Really, what was a few cracked against nearly being eaten by a nomad? With a sigh, she hung the bag from the side-view mirror. "Seriously," she muttered to herself, as she rounded the truck. "What is my life?"

Apparently, she'd parked on a slope. Snatching the first one before it could get far, she scrambled after the other orange as it rolled down the hill, picking up speed with every inch.

"You're not worth the effort," Bella cried out, because no one could hear her talking to fruit, so what did it even matter. "I don't even like oranges!" They'd been on sale.

The orange rolled to a stop at the edge of the parking lot. Like much of podunk Alaska, the middle-of-nowhere mini-mart was surrounded by trees. She had stooped down to pluck it from the snowy bush when a flash of...of something caught her eye. Twin glints, the color of whiskey, shined against the darkened forest. Brown, she told herself firmly; not red.

It did little to sooth her though, because where there were werewolves, there were vampires. "Hello?" She whispered, knowing the wolf would hear her. "Are you the one who saved me?"

A rustle of underbrush, and a huff was all the warning she got, as the wolf emerged from between two thick trees. It was the same one, with it's more-salt-than-pepper coat, but her memory had done it little justice.

The wolf was massive. Bigger even, than Sam Uley. Far too large to be mistaken for anything but a bear or a small horse. It's coat was white, speckled neatly in flecks of gray and black, just like the native Arctic Wolves. Hands held at her side, she lowered her head. "Are there more of you?" The wolf stared at her blankly, it's tail pulled low, and taught. " Is your pack nearby? Your Alpha? Are you the Alpha?"

It whined, head dipping as it dropped to it's belly. Submission, Bella realized, with a start. And if it was submitting to her, it meant it had no Alpha. A young wolf then, she decided. Probably new, and dangerous.

With little warning, it darted away, disappearing back into the thick copse of trees without so much as a yip. Bella watched it go, wordlessly.

She knew that wouldn't be the last of she saw of it.

The next morning, salad-plate sized paw prints decorated the mud around her porch. The lingering remains of dirty snow piling up at the edges of the wooden steps were yellow, where the wolf had peed.

On her house.

"Seriously?" She told her backyard, as the sun crept up over the trees. "Should I be worried? Are you marking me for a reason?"

Was he warning something off? Or simply making his presence known?

No answer came, but that was hardly surprising. Bella pulled her bathrobe closer to her body, and glared at the forest, before turning inside. She put the worry out of her head. She'd been vampire-free for years. That wasn't about to change.

Vampires aside, peeing on the house was just the tip of the iceberg, it would seem. The following morning when she opened her backdoor, Bella found a rabbit. A dead rabbit, it's neck broken neatly, with very little blood in involved. Even so, it's distressing. Dead animals were not Bella Swans thing.

Ignoring the sour feeling in her stomach, she reminded herself that she was a Forest Ranger for a reason. Morbid though it was, Bella knew better than to leave it on the porch.

"It's a gift," she muttered, as she took it by the back legs, and carried into the kitchen. "A gift." She repeated the words like a mantra, as she dressed and stripped it on her good cutting board, blood draining into the sink.

It made a good stew. When night came, she left a bowl on the porch, not bothering to leave a spoon.

The bowl was empty in the morning. That much she expected. What she hadn't expected, however, was the wolf to be there waiting, orche eyes keen and curious.

"Thank you," she muttered, haltingly. "For the...rabbit. I don't know why you left it, because honestly if we're doing gifts, I should get you something. You saved my life." Hesitating, she held her hand out, fingers wiggling in the space between them. It's stupid, because he was neither an animal, nor truly frightened but...old habits die hard.

The wolf wasted no time, pressing his nose into her palm with a chuff-chuff-chuffing noise. It licked her, sloppy wet tongue sliding from palm to elbow, and Bella tried hard not to laugh, but it tickled. On reflex, her fingers curled, scratching along his muzzle, and he melted in an instant, face pressing harder against her hand like a touch starved cat.

"Oh you like that huh?" Bella teased gruffly, scratching harder as she worked her hand up behind his ear. His back leg shook, slapping against the muddy ground. As if permission had been granted, he launched forward, pressing the bulk of his weight against her, until she was forced to stumble back against the wood of the porch. "Whoa!"

Bella realized, that beneath the fur and teeth, a naked man was laying on her. Or worse, a naked teenager. Although, as he settled his weight against her side, and nudged her hand to continue, she couldn't quite care. Even with the terrible memories it stirred, or the ache in her side that had nothing to do with cracked ribs, Bella could never forget the good she left behind in Forks.

She missed her home, her stupid yellow kitchen, her father, her friends. Alaska was her sanctuary, but in being so, it was a reminder of what she left behind. The wolf was trouble, bringing with it all the things she knew were better left locked away, but...Bella could never resist trouble.