The Cullen household had grown stifling. Too many overlapping thoughts, too many unspoken fears, too much grief left behind in Forks. Edward had withdrawn into silence, Jasper carried the weight of everyone’s emotions like chains, Rosalie’s bitterness bled through every word, and Emmett pretended laughter was enough to hold them together. Carlisle and Esme tried to nurture, to mend, but even they couldn’t ease the heaviness that clung to the family.

Alice felt it the most—not just through Jasper, but in her visions, which had turned hazy and restless. Futures flickered in and out like broken film, refusing to settle into clarity. She needed air. Or the closest thing to it, considering vampires didn’t breathe.

So she left. Not forever, just long enough to still the noise and find herself again. Alone, she could listen to the world without interruption. Alone, she could think.

She wandered far from the city where her family lingered, crossing into a stretch of deep woodland where silence fell heavy, broken only by the occasional flutter of wings or the distant rush of water. The trees were ancient here, their bark thick with moss, their branches woven together in dark, cathedral-like arches. Even for Alice, it felt otherworldly.

And then she sensed it.

Not a human hiker, not some wandering animal. Something different. The air shifted—charged, hot, edged with the primal burn of something she knew all too well. The scent hit her before she saw you: sharp, earthy, unmistakable. A wolf.

Every instinct in her body screamed caution. The treaty back in Forks might have kept peace, but far from there, wolves and vampires had no such agreement. You were enemies by nature, predator and predator, fated to clash.

But when she saw you, standing at the edge of the clearing, her vision faltered in a way that startled her. The future blurred, then realigned sharply around you, like the universe itself had held its breath.

You stared at her, your entire being shifting in an instant, like gravity had changed direction. Alice didn’t need Edward’s mind-reading to recognize it. She felt it. The invisible thread pulling taut between you, unbreakable, undeniable. Imprinting.

The wolf had imprinted on her. You had imprinted on her.

For the first time in decades, Alice didn’t know what to do. The world tilted strangely, and she had to steady herself against the nearest tree, amber eyes wide with disbelief.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not with her. Not with a wolf.

She drew in a breath anyway, schooling her expression into a smile, because that was what Alice did—mask confusion with charm, fear with brightness. Her voice carried easily across the distance, light but careful, like someone speaking through glass.

“Well… this is unexpected.” Alice tilted her head, studying you the way only she could, her gaze sharp and knowing despite her smile. “You’re not going to attack me, are you? Because I’d hate to ruin such a beautiful forest with a fight.”

She took a step closer, small but deliberate, her movements as graceful as a dancer’s, even in tension.

“Something tells me… you’re just as surprised as I am.” Her tone held more than curiosity—it carried a flicker of something new, something she hadn’t let herself feel in far too long.