Alaska wasn't our first choice.It wasn't even our second.
It was the place that remained when the world grew too small for us.
By the time the idea surfaced, we had lived through nearly a century of fleeting towns, borrowed identities, and careful, measured steps through human lives that moved far faster than ours.
But Alaska…Alaska didn't move fast at all.
The decision was made during a storm.
Snow hammered against the cabin windows in the Rockies, and wind curled around the house like a living thing.Jacob sat on the floor in wolf form, a warm, reassuring presence against the cold tension in the room.
Alice stood at the window, her eyes distant, chasing visions that wouldn't settle.Edward watched her, worry tightening his quiet gaze.Bella's hand lingered on the back of his chair, her touch a silent reminder that they faced everything together.
"It has to be somewhere remote," Alice finally murmured, her voice barely above the howl of the wind."Somewhere wild. Somewhere the world isn't watching every corner."
Carlisle nodded slowly."Somewhere we can stay for longer than five years."
Esme turned toward him with a hopeful softness."A home we don't have to abandon."
Those words struck something in me.The idea of staying — truly staying — felt unreal, almost dangerous. But comforting.
And then Rosalie said what we were all thinking.
"Alaska."
The room fell quiet.Even the storm seemed to pause.
It wasn't a surprising suggestion.We had friends there.The Denali coven — Tanya, Kate, and Eleazar — were practically family.And the land itself was exactly what we needed:wide, shadowed, untouched.
Jacob huffed softly — the wolf inside him acknowledging the logic even if he didn't like the cold.
"Alaska," Edward repeated, testing the word in the air.His eyes flicked to Bella, searching.She nodded once, resolute.
"Alaska," she echoed.
And just like that, the decision was made.
We drove north for three days.
Three days of mountains rising like frozen giants.Three days of winding roads that grew emptier and colder with every mile.Three days of silence — not tense, but contemplative — as if each of us was slowly shedding the versions of ourselves we had been in the last town.
Jacob alternated between his wolf form and his human one, depending on which was warmer.I teased him relentlessly about his dramatic shivering, and he growled in amusement every time.
We crossed the Canadian border without trouble.Alaska welcomed us with a sky so pale it felt like the world had forgotten how to breathe color.
I pressed my forehead to the cold glass of the car window and watched the wilderness stretch endlessly:frozen rivers like silver veins, forests so dense they seemed bottomless, mountains shaped like broken crowns.
"This place will keep our secrets," Esme whispered, as if afraid to disturb the silence.
I believed her.
The Denali coven met us at the edge of the forest near their territory.
Tanya embraced my mother first, long and warm, a gesture of love that didn't need words.Kate greeted Jacob with a teasing spark in her eyes — she'd always found his wolfish irritation hilarious.
Eleazar pulled Carlisle into a hug that spoke of missed years and shared history.
For a moment, I felt like a child again — surrounded by ancient figures who had lived countless lives, yet still found meaning in reconnecting.
"We've prepared a place for you," Eleazar said, gesturing toward the frozen trees."A secluded valley. No neighbors for miles."
"Perfect," Edward said quietly.
The Denalis led us to a clearing untouched by human hands.Snow clung to the heavy branches of dark pines.A frozen river cut through the land like a blade of glass.And nestled within the trees was a house built from pale wood and strong foundations — a house clearly shaped with Esme's influence in mind, even though she hadn't touched a single beam.
She gasped softly."Eleazar. Tanya. Kate… this is—"
"A place to stay," Tanya finished for her."For as long as you need."
I felt something warm swell in my silent chest — gratitude, belonging, the rare comfort of being understood without explanation.
Life in Alaska didn't begin all at once.It unfolded slowly, like ice thawing under a careful sun.
We learned the rhythm of the northern lights — how they rippled through the sky like memories dancing.We learned the silence of snow, deep and endless, swallowing footsteps and words alike.We learned how the world seemed larger here, wild enough to swallow centuries without noticing.
Jacob warmed the house constantly, complaining dramatically and turning into a wolf to sprawl in front of the fireplace like an oversized dog.
Bella laughed more often — a soft, genuine laugh I didn't hear much while we were constantly on the move.Edward played the piano at night, gentle notes weaving through the dark like a lullaby the forest itself listened to.
Carlisle began volunteering at a remote clinic, where people cared more about kindness than about age.Esme decorated the house, shaping it into a nest of warmth against the frozen world.
And I…I explored.
I ran through the snow faster than the wind.I climbed frozen cliffs just to feel the sunrise spill over them.I let the cold air sharpen my senses until I could hear the heartbeat of a rabbit beneath three feet of snow.
For the first time in decades, I felt still.Not stagnant — just… rooted.
Life stretched out before us in a long, quiet horizon.
Not perfect.Not certain.But peaceful.
And in that peace, something inside me continued to change — slow, subtle, but undeniable.
A shift.A stirring.
Like the first tremor of a storm still too far away to see