The loud howling wind and banging of the shutters wasn't the reason why Callas kept tossing and turning in her bed at night losing sleep. It wasn't the first time when her dreams—or nightmares—had kept her awake at night. It always seemed to be the same dream playing over and over in her mind, drowning her slowly as she was unable to wake herself up from them before the end. Ever since her father had passed she had been experiencing strange dreams about a tall, pale man with deep ochre red eyes and sharp white teeth. She knew that it was probably just her mind replaying a movie character, but she couldn't help but feel as though he was real.

     Callas turned her head to look at the clock on her bedside table, it read: 'six a.m.' in bright green letters. She let out a sigh, turning her head to look at the ceiling, wishing that her body would just let her have one good night's sleep for once. The temperature in the room dropped, Callas closed her eyes only thinking that it was her mind playing tricks on her due to her bizarre sleeping schedule. But it wasn't in her mind. She huffed as she lifted her body up onto her elbows, scanning the room. It was almost pitch black, the only light in the room was coming from her clock and the gap between her curtains.

     As she pushed the blankets off her body she shivered, wanting nothing more than to just curl back into the blankets, but she knew she had to close the window—which she never remembered having opened. Unless she sleep-walked now, but she found that somewhat hard to believe. With her arms wrapped around her body for warmth, she made her way to her window—her bedroom was facing off towards the sea of trees. She pushed the window down, hearing the latch snap back into place, locking it securely. She looked out towards the tree line, she swore she saw something move into the darkness. Callas froze in her spot, her fists tightening around the material of the curtains as her breathing hitched, getting caught in her throat.

     "It's not real," she whispered to herself, wanting nothing more than to believe in her own words.

     She quickly closed the curtains, breathing heavily as she tried to get her heart to slow down from the hammering pace, stepping away from the window still facing them. She brought her hand up to her forehead and rubbed it, it wasn't exactly what she was hoping for with her first night in her new home, now she was certain that she wasn't going to get any sleep after seeing that. A sigh left her lips as she turned back around and looked to the clock, it read: 'six thirty-two a.m.' and her eyebrows furrowed. But that couldn't have been possible, she was only at the window for two minutes. How long had she been staring outside for?

     With the shake of her head, she walked over to the light switch, flicking on the warm coloured light. If she couldn't fall back asleep now, then she might as well start unpacking her belongings into her room. She picked up one of the boxes labelled clothes, ripping the tape off the top, and opened it up. The first thing she picked up was her father's old, black flight jacket. It still smelled of tobacco, whiskey, and pine. She brought it up to her face and smiled. When she balled the material up in her hands, the sound of paper crinkling made her pause. She opened one of the pockets, inside was an old photo of all of them. She placed the jacket down on her bed, running her thumb over the small and slightly ripped photo.

     Her mother was holding her, cradling Callas against her body. Callas looked like she was only one in the photo, while four-year-old Reed was on their father's shoulders, laughing. She would have to find a frame for the picture at some point. She carefully placed it down on the bedside table, leaning it against the lamp to prop it up and picked out one of her shirts to hang up in the wardrobe, leaving her father's jacket on the bed still. By the time she had finished with all three boxes of clothes, her wardrobe was finally packed. She brushed her hair out of her face with a sigh, she never got used to the unpacking process of moving, it took a lot out of her. She broke down the boxes, flattening them out to put in the recycling later.

     Her stomach rumbled quietly at her. She glanced over towards the clock, it read: 'seven thirty-four a.m.' now. She still had boxes to unpack, although a few were mainly books and some were still in the trailer outside, but she could easily do that later. She quickly made her bed, hanging the flight jacket up on the door knob of the wardrobe before she made her way downstairs to the kitchen. Her grandparents were already up. Silas was on one of the old single recliner sofas with the newspaper in his hand, and Zeus was laying down by his legs, the fireplace was crackling and burning warmly. Callas could hear Anya humming to herself in the kitchen. Zeus lifted his head up when he noticed her, his tail wagging as she smiled at him.

     "Morning, Pumpkin," Silas spoke without looking up from the newspaper, after he saw Zeus's tail from the corner of his eye, too engrossed in the story.

     "Morning," Callas replied before walking into the kitchen.

     The smell of pancakes wafted towards Callas as Anya turned around. The kitchen was quite large, with a family sized table on the right-hand side. The wooden cupboards and draws, as well as the dark red wallpaper, made the room feel even more warmer and homelier. Frost was gathered along the window on the outside, making it almost impossible to see out. The wooden table was already set with a red tablecloth strip down the middle and red place settings, while the wooden island counter, with a white marble top, was in the middle of the kitchen covered with baking ingredients. Callas couldn't remember the last time she had a home cooked breakfast like this.

     "Sleep well?"

     She would hardly call it sleeping. "Yeah, I just woke up," Callas lied through her teeth, ignoring to mention the fact she lost track of thirty-two minutes, but Anya didn't seem to pick up on it as she smiled over at her.

     "That's good, I was afraid the rain would have kept you up."

     "I've slept through worse." She shrugged as Anya handed her a plate of fresh pancakes.

     Callas thanked her and moved to sit down at the end of the table, facing the door, picking up the maple syrup to pour over the pancakes. Just as she put the bottle down, Reed had walked in. His hair was a mess of short, tangled curls and his hands were rubbing at his eyes. He looked over to Callas and smiled before greeting Anya with a kiss on the cheek.

     "Aren't you cold, dear?" Anya asked Reed.

     Reed tended to sleep without a shirt on, even in the winter. He always seemed to be warm, their father had the same problem. Or maybe he did have a cold, maybe he had a temperature. Although Callas never minded the cold weather, she was never freakishly warm like Reed always was. Reed shook his head with a light laugh, taking his own plate from Anya. He moved around the kitchen counter to sit next to Callas on the side of the table. He picked up the bottle of maple syrup as Callas picked up the strawberries to place on her own pancakes, he licked his finger as the syrup dripped down on his hand.

     "There's a napkin right there, Reed." Callas rolled her eyes but smiled at him.

     He looked down to the red napkin and shrugged. He wasn't, what you would call, verbose in the morning. He never was. Callas was the same, but given the fact that she had been awake for over an hour, she wasn't as bad as Reed. She picked up her fork to cut into her pancake when the sound of whipped cream being sprayed made her jump. She looked over to Reed as he sprayed his pancakes with the whipped cream before doing the same to Callas' without saying anything.

     "Thanks, Reed." She rolled her eyes with a laugh as he sprayed some into his mouth.

     "Reed! You'll get fat if you keep doing that." Anya slapped the back of his head with a kitchen towel, he shrunk in his seat with a mouth full of whipped cream, trying not to laugh. "Your muscles will just turn to fat." She pointed at him.

     Her red apron had blotches of flour all over it, somehow managing to get it on her cheek as well. The red kitchen towel was now over her shoulder as she picked up and placed two cups of coffee down in front of Reed and Callas. Callas let out a small laugh at the two of them just as Zeus came padding in, straight over to his small bed in the corner of the kitchen, just behind Callas on her left. Silas soon came in with the newspaper folded and his glasses tucked into the pocket of his shirt as he moved to sit down at the table.

     "Highly unlikely," Silas disagreed. "Us Quinn men don't get fat." He grinned at Reed, sending him a wink backing him up.

     "Say that to your stomach." Anya placed her right hand on her hip, straightening her own glasses on her face.

     "Listen, I'm old, it's natural." He shrugged.

     "Yeah? And I suppose your inability to hear me asking you to get rid of that old truck out there is also natural."

     Callas laughed loudly, taking a bite of her pancakes while Reed slightly shook his shoulders with a silent laugh before he picked up his coffee to drink. Something told them that this move was going to be good for them. Silas looked over to his wife, a blank look on his face before he nodded and placed the newspaper, half folded, on the table to continue reading, putting his glasses back on. Anya rolled her eyes before continuing to cook. Something also told them that the colour red was a key theme in the kitchen.

     "Sleep well, Cal?" Reed eyed her from the side, shoving a lump of pancakes, with maple syrup and whipped cream, into his mouth.

     "Yeah, the weird dreams are back again," she told him truthfully.

     Reed knew about her dreams. When their father had died he just assumed she was waking up crying because of it. But he soon realised that wasn't the case when she'd look around terrified as if someone else would have been in the room with them. Silas looked up from his newspaper, his eyes looking over the brim of his glasses before he peeked over at Anya, then back down to continue reading. Reed gave her a half-smile, which she returned. Truth be told, they had never left in the first place, but she never said anything just to ease his mind over the matter.

     "What about you?" She asked as she ate a strawberry.

     "Never slept better." He nodded. "I don't remember the last time I slept on an actual mattress, and not a pile of rock-hard slabs labelled as a mattress." He grinned.

     "But you're a caveman, aren't you used to that?" She joked.

     "How old do you think I am?"

     "Well, you're older than me, so..."

     Of course, she knew how old he was, but it was more fun for her to tease him. Reed rolled his eyes and continued to eat his breakfast in silence. Callas occasionally mentioned something about wanting to go see the tide pools sometime during the week, sparking Reed's interest to do the same. He said he would take her after school if he had the chance, then he would start looking for a job around town, or maybe even in Forks as it was only fifteen minutes or so away. Silas said he would ask around to see if there were any jobs available, claiming that maybe one of his fishing buddies would know.

     Callas couldn't wait to finally be unpacked, maybe getting some part of her life in order, before she went out to map good route to run along. She just wanted to get out as quickly as she could. She felt as though she had been locked up inside for days on end without going out at least once. She wasn't necessarily wrong, she did leave their old house to go straight into a car for hours before ending up back in La Push. But she would have to wait until Reed had time off to do so. Meaning that her body and mind would be trapped inside for just a little while longer.