Wolfblood ━ TWILIGHT (being rewritten)

10

The hour was late, and the night dark. The woods for near miles around was silent. Not even a fox nor hare skittered across the woodland floor, nor did the squirrels dare to dart across a branch in the forest around the home.

It was a mess, that was all Fae could say. The kitchen was alight despite the late hour, pale cream coloured light beaming down from the ceiling like a spotlight. A stark contrast to the inky black world lingering beyond the windows.

The oven cast a warm orange glow, the sweet smell of cookies wafted across the space, steaming like something delicious from a commercial as they cooled on a rack. Muffins slowly baking in the oven. It was late, though late night baking tended to be a fairly common occurrence of many girl's nights -though in her old town, baking on a girls night seven out of ten times implied that they got another kind of baked.- Yet, despite Emily's preference for baking in the literal sense, it was still pleasant. Regardless of the random specks of muffin batter on cupboards and the dusting of flour across the countertops and their pyjamas.

Yet Emily was thriving. Eyes full of life as she danced around, carrying a bowl of batter together like it was a baby on her hip, mixing it through steadily to the beat of the song blaring. It was an Arctic Monkey's song Fae did not know the name of, yet it was alright.

It had been a Kanye West song a few minutes ago, coming shortly after they'd screamed the lyrics to Better Than Revenge. Fae kneaded her dough further, the soon to be bread slowly taking form.

The song shifted, Fae blinked, eyes fixated on the bread, almost ready to let rest. Lips mimed the lyrics like karaoke, though soon, she gave up. Instead another came to her mind. The words slipped softly as she folded the dough. "Fight and you may die. Run and you'll live - at least a while.. And dying in your beds many years from now, would you be willing to trade all the days from this day to that for one chance? Just one chance... to come back here, and tell our enemies that they may take our lives, but they'll never take-"

"What are you doing?" Emily cut her off mid-monologue. Her brow was furrowed.

"Reciting the speech from Braveheart." Fae replied, shrugging.

The dark haired woman raised her eyebrows, moving to lean against the counter, scar pulling as her lips opened into a smile. It was unfair how pretty she was. "Why did you start saying it like Kermit midway?"

Fae shrugged again, slapping the rolled dough into a loaf pan, then delicately draping the tea towel over the tin and put it aside to rise. Had she been using a Kermit the frog impression? She thought it sounded more like Ernie. "I need to work on my accents."

Emily guffawed, folding her arms as she sniped at her. "When will you need a Kermit impression?"

"When will you not be a buzzkill?" Fae snarked in return. Emily whipped a soggy dish towel in her direction. Fae squawked as it hit her lightly, the towel left a wet patch on the side of her pyjama top that felt freezing in the cold night air. The elder woman giggled.