It's quiet and dark and drizzling, when we pull in. The drip, drip, drip from the trees and the eaves is everywhere. The porch still smells a little moldy. Not enough to give anyone allergies – just wet, wet wood, that hasn't seen paint quite often enough.
"I got a surprise for you, Bells." Dad never calls me Isabella. It just wouldn't sound right coming from him. He's not an Isabella kind of guy.
That right there was the first bit to really draw me in, because it reeks of truth. Bella and Charlie, for their common blood lines, are very much strangers, and this is captured so well by Miaokuancha’s evocative style.
Using short chapters and lyrical phrasing, the author creates a world full of vivid sensory input, as seen and felt through Bella, Edward, and perhaps the ravens, as they watch down from above:
At the bottom of the ravine, a doe walks carefully.
The two descend as one, and kill, and feed.
Using such distinct points of view lends this story a sort of spiritual mysticism that I hadn’t expected, yet one that I quickly came to adore.
Another interesting aspect of this story is how much Edward struggles with the ruse of being a “child.” His point of view holds a maturity and a distinctly male voice, as he struggles with himself, and also his bloodlust:
"So, Alice," I say, and I don't mean to mock, but I do, "How sure is 'pretty sure'?"
There are so many beautiful passages in this story that I wish I could highlight them all, and paste them here, for your consumption. Instead, I’ll beg you to go and read them for yourself. Get lost with Miaokuancha’s Edward and Bella. Let her draw you in. You won’t be disappointed.
Chicklette is the author of many wonderful fics, including some rec'd on the Ficster. She's currently writing Of Kith and Kin, and if you haven't read her--YOU ARE MISSING OUT.
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