(Thomas POV)
I kept my eyes on the narrow track ahead, the stone path twisting downward between terraces of rock and scrub. The morning air carried the sting of ice, and frost glittered in the cracks of the stones. For the first time since arriving, I felt like I was moving forward on my own terms. Each step past the gate was lighter, freer.
The sound of hurried footsteps broke that illusion, echoing sharply against the rock.
"Thomas!"
Hu Mei caught up to me just before the bend in the trail, her breath ragged from the run, her shawl slipping loose against the cold.
"You weren't going to say goodbye?" she demanded, her voice sharp but trembling underneath.
I adjusted the strap of my pack, steadying myself. "Goodbyes only make leaving harder. I didn't want that for you."
Her eyes blazed. "Don't pretend this is mercy, Thomas. You're running — not just from this village, but from me."
I opened my mouth to tell her just how far off the mark she was, but she stepped closer, cutting me off. "You think I don't see what you are? You're no Fox, bound to one love for life. You carry the tiger's blood. Tigers don't belong to just one. Their females will share — so long as the tiger chooses them fiercely enough."
The words hit harder than I expected, not because they were true, but because of how far she was willing to reach for them.
I shook my head. "Hu Mei… you're a skilled fighter, and I respect you for that. But don't twist what we had. You were never mine, and I was never yours."
Her face tightened, but she held her chin high. "You think I don't know that? I wanted your strength in my clan's line — and yes, I would have taken more if you'd given it. But if not now… then at least keep me in mind for when you return. Time can change your view on leadership."
I frowned, but she pressed on, her voice steadier, almost calm. "The fire in you will fade. It always does. When you return to the mountain, I'll be here. And I'll be waiting."
Her hand slipped from my arm, her shawl drawn tighter around her shoulders. She gave me one last searching look, then stepped back, watching as I turned back down the path.
I adjusted the strap of my pack and kept moving, the crunch of stone underfoot carrying me farther from the village.
(Once again, Unseen by Thomas)
From their hidden vantage, the two elders watched Hu Mei retreat slowly back toward the gate, her shawl clutched tight against the cold.
Vyaghra shook his head, his voice low. "The girl thinks she is clever, but she underestimates him. She chases his blood for her clan, yet she speaks of tigers without knowing what that truly means. A Fox cannot think like a Tiger."
Rohan's gaze lingered on Thomas's figure as it shrank along the rocky path. "Tigers do not bind themselves to one den, nor to one mate. Their strength is solitary… but when they choose, they choose with a fierceness no wolf or fox can match."
Vyaghra's eyes narrowed. "That fierceness may scatter bonds as much as it makes them. A tiger's heart is wide, but not gentle."
Rohan's lips pressed thin. "Perhaps. Or perhaps his heart will carve a path no one expects. The mountain remembers, yes… but it may yet remember him differently."
(A.N.)
I am intentionally keeping this departure vague and a little confusing so that I can come back one day if I want to expand on the clans. It feels unfinished to me because I couldn't make the story go where I wanted it to. But in all reality, it may not happen.
(Thomas POV)
I adjusted the strap of my pack once more, then stopped. The weight on my shoulders felt wrong — too slow, too heavy. If I walked, it would take three days to reach Syabrubesi. I didn't have three days to give.
Well, I did, but I really didn't want to wait any longer than I had to, to get back to Edythe.
With a steadying breath, I slipped the pack from my back and held it in my hands. The fire stirred inside me, eager. Quickly removing my clothes and tucking them in my bag, I reached for the fire in my mind.
The change rolled through my body like a storm breaking. Bones stretched, muscles swelled, the world tilted as my senses exploded outward. In the space of a heartbeat, I dropped to four paws, the cold stone biting into the pads of my feet.
The pack dangled awkwardly for a moment before I caught it firmly in my jaws. The straps tasted of sweat and leather, but it would hold.
Then I ran.
The narrow switchbacks and rocky terraces that slowed me in human form were nothing to the tiger. My body moved with a rhythm I hadn't earned, but claimed anyway — strength coiling through every stride, claws biting into stone, tail snapping for balance as I leapt from outcrop to outcrop.
I didn't run full out but kept it at a steady trot. The type of pace that would eat the miles without exhausting me too quickly.
The thin mountain air filled my lungs, but I never faltered. Where a man would stumble, the tiger surged.
Hours blurred into the pounding of my heart, the icy wind in my whiskers, the endless rhythm of muscle and stone. The three-day path fell away beneath me, collapsing into one long night.
By the time the lights of Syabrubesi shimmered faintly in the valley below, my legs burned, my breath heaved, and the pack's weight pulled at my jaw like an anchor. Still, I didn't stop until I reached the edge of the village.
There, hidden among the shadows of the stone walls, I let the change roll back. The fire flickered, reluctant to settle, but at last I stood on two legs again, shaking, sore, and drenched in sweat.
I dropped the pack at my feet, chest heaving. One day and part of a night. Three days cut down to one.
I quickly found a place to get dressed, then went to the hotel and got a room for the night, and purchased a ticket for the first bus to Kathmandu in the morning. Then I fell into a dreamless night of sleep.
Morning came too quickly. My body still ached from the run, every muscle tight, but the fire inside me hummed steady.
I checked out of the hotel with the first gray light of dawn and boarded the bus. The seats were narrow, built for smaller frames than mine. At six-foot-eight, I loomed awkwardly over the other passengers, knees pressed hard against the seat in front of me, shoulders squeezed into the aisle. A few travelers tried not to stare, but their eyes lingered all the same. In a country where the average man stood nearly a foot and a half shorter, I was impossible to ignore.
The bus rattled its way down the winding roads, switchbacks clinging to cliffs that dropped into river gorges far below. For nine hours, it swayed and jolted, the air thick with dust and diesel. My legs cramped, but I didn't complain. Compared to three days on foot, this was still easier.
By the time we pulled into Kathmandu, the sun hung low, a hazy gold behind the veil of traffic and smog. The noise of the city hit me like another world — horns blaring, voices shouting, scooters weaving between cars. Even here, in the crush of people, heads turned when I passed. The height, the shoulders, the foreign face — I couldn't fade in if I tried.
I shouldered my pack and pushed through the crowds into the airport terminal. Inside, the air was cooler but no less frantic. Announcements echoed overhead, flight boards flickered. Seattle. New York. Choices. I hesitated, torn between Forks and Ithaca, just as I'd told Edythe.
But first, the phone.
The screen didn't even flicker when I tried to power it up, the battery was completely dead. I searched the terminal until I found a row of outlets along a wall, most already crowded with travelers hunched over their own devices. Even there, people's eyes flicked toward me as I loomed over the line, pack slung against my shoulder. Eventually, I found a gap, crouched down, and plugged in.
The screen flickered back to life. It took nearly fifteen minutes just to gain one bar of charge. It would have to be enough.
I scrolled to Edythe's number and pressed call, my pulse quickening with each ring.
"Thomas?" Her voice burst through, tight, as if she was trying not to talk too fast.
"It's me." Relief loosened something in my chest, hearing her voice. I was so close to seeing her again. "I made it to Kathmandu. I'm looking at flights now — I just need to decide where to land first. Forks or Ithaca."
There was a rush of air on the line, like she'd covered the receiver. Then her voice, urgent. "Thomas… Alice had a vision."
I froze. "What kind of vision?"
Edythe's words tumbled fast, barely under control. "She saw Bella. Jumping. Off a cliff into the sea. For a time, we thought—" her voice cracked, "—we thought she was dead. We flew to Forks as soon as Alice could confirm where she was."
My breath caught. "And?"
"She's alive," Edythe said quickly. "Jacob pulled her from the water. She's shaken, but safe. But Thomas—"
Her voice faltered again. In the background, I could hear Alice's softer tone, words not meant for me but impossible to miss.
"He thinks she's dead," Alice said grimly.
The words struck cold. My grip on the phone tightened. "Who?"
Edythe's voice came back, breaking. "Edward. He called Bella's house. A stranger answered the phone at Charlie's house — Jacob — and he told Edward Charlie was 'at the funeral.' He meant Harry Clearwater's. But Edward believed…"
Her breath hitched. "He believes they were burying Bella."
The world tilted under me, the noise of the terminal fading to a dull roar. "And now?" I forced the words out through clenched teeth.
Alice's voice cut across the line, sharper this time. "Now I have a vision of him in Volterra. With the Volturi. He's asking them to end his life."