Chapter Text
Rowan perched on the low branch of the maple tree behind the Swan house, legs dangling, notebook open, pen poised. Bella had been moaning nonstop about her birthday all morning, a mixture of teenage melodrama and lingering trauma from… well, the usual chaos the Cullens brought. Rowan needed a break from her sister’s doom and gloom.
Luckily, the forest had opinions.
“Oh, this is rich,” a crow cawed from the fence post, wings spread in dramatic flair. “Your sister nearly died on her eighteenth birthday. Paper cut. Ha! Amateur.”
Rowan scribbled in her notebook. Bella nearly killed by paper cut. Check. She raised an eyebrow. “Really? That’s all?”
“Oh, no, sweet pea,” a squirrel said, hopping closer. “The tall, brooding one? Jasper? Lost it. Went completely berserk. Nearly tore the house apart before Edward swooped in.”
Rowan smiled. She already knew the Cullens were vampires. She had known for a long time; she had lived in Forks long before Bella returned, and the forest had filled her in over the years. The animals, as usual, were providing the juiciest commentary.
The fox by the creek padded closer, tail flicking with purpose. “And then Edward tried to save her, like the shiny hero he is. Too much force. Bella went flying… smashed through a table.”
Rowan froze mid-scribble. Flying? Through a table? She pictured it perfectly: broken glass, sharp edges, Bella screaming, and Edward flailing awkwardly while trying to restrain Jasper.
“Oh yes,” the crow added with relish, “and she got cut on her arm. Glass, of course. Classic Bella. Chaos and minor blood everywhere. We called dibs on commentary, but you—Rowan—you already knew.”
Rowan rolled her eyes, hiding a grin. “I knew, yes. Humans are hopeless.”
“And then…” the squirrel lowered its voice dramatically, “the Cullens left. All of them. Gone. Edward himself dragged Bella into the woods to tell her they were leaving. Then he left her there. Alone. Middle of the forest. Couldn’t find her way back.”
Rowan scribbled furiously. Cullens gone. Bella lost. Humans panicking. Forest opinion: predictably dramatic.
She glanced toward the yard. The search party was assembling. Charlie was barking orders, flashlights cutting through the darkness. Rowan’s legs swung nervously. She had been helping, subtly following the animals’ advice—quietly watching trails, noting animal reactions, making sure Bella didn’t wander into actual danger. Not that anyone would notice her contributions.
A low growl and shuffle caught her attention. The neighborhood dogs had gathered near the edge of the yard, alert, ears up, sniffing the air. “She’s coming,” one muttered.
Rowan froze. Moments later, Sam appeared in the backyard, carrying Bella in his arms. Rowan’s heart leapt. Even through the minor chaos and panic, she could hear the animals sigh in relief. Birds fluttered back onto fence posts, squirrels chattered nervously but stopped in recognition.
“Bella!” Charlie shouted, running forward. Rowan landed gracefully, rushing alongside. Bella stirred weakly, wrapped in Sam’s arms. Her hair was messy, her arm bleeding slightly from the glass cut, but she was alive.
The crow squawked from the fence post, “Finally! About time! Humans barely cope without supervision.”
Rowan made a note in her journal: Forest confirmed: humans are ridiculous. Bella survived. Cullens gone. Chaos continues.
Rowan glanced at Bella, lying now in Charlie’s arms, and couldn’t resist a small smile. She already knew the forest’s verdict: the girl had survived, not because of human skill, but because nature—and perhaps a little supernatural insight—had her back.
Jacob’s friends drifted through her thoughts—boys who always seemed older than they were. One of them stood out only because he didn’t try to. Quiet. Watching. Easy to miss unless you were listening.
Rowan, perched in the maple tree with notebook in hand, couldn’t help but think: next time, I’ll be at the beach before things get this ridiculous.
The forest, as always, whispered its approval.