#test muse: garrett

Not even three steps onto the Cullen property before Emmett came barreling out of the trees like a runaway boulder with a grin.

Of course he did.

Garrett slowed, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket as the forest stilled around the other vampire’s massive frame. Emmett was practically vibrating with whatever idea he’d cooked up—and the nomad didn’t need to hear his thoughts to know trouble when it was aiming straight at him.

Garrett had been running the mountains for three days straight, following the kind of crooked, instinct-driven path only roamers understood. Snow clung to the branches overhead, catching the moonlight in a way that made the whole forest seem sharper, brighter. Too bright for a human eye. Perfect for his.

He dropped from a rocky outcrop into a narrow ravine, landing without a sound—only to go still the moment he straightened. There it was. A scent he didn’t recognize. New. Unmistakably vampire… but not Cullen, not Denali, not anyone from his long mental catalog of wanderers. Another nomad?

Garrett lifted his head slightly, listening. The night hummed with quiet, untouched air—no human heartbeat anywhere close—but the presence was undeniable. Someone was nearby, watching him.

“Well,” he drawled into the dark, not bothering to hide the amused curl at the corner of his mouth, “you’re either new to these parts, or you’re damn good at stayin’ off the map.”

A faint crunch of snow answered him—light, controlled, intentional. Garrett didn’t turn right away, just let the tension stretch, savoring it like a hunter testing the wind.

Garrett hadn’t planned on stopping. He’d meant to cut straight through the treeline, hit the ridge by sunrise, and keep moving west before the snow thickened. But the scent hit him first—clean, controlled, unmistakably familiar. A soldier’s scent. A Cullen’s scent.

He slowed, boots whispering over frost-bitten leaves, and let his eyes adjust to the muted silver light filtering through the forest. Jasper was already there, leaning against the trunk of an old pine like he’d been waiting, arms folded loosely but with a posture that said he could move faster than thought if he had to.

Garrett huffed a quiet laugh under his breath, stepping into view. “Didn’t expect to run into you out here,” he drawled, voice warm but edged with curiosity. “Figured you’d be halfway to Alaska by now, or at least somewhere —” he gestured lazily at the barren woods, “—dreary.”

He stopped a few paces from him, studying the way Jasper held himself, the subtle ripple of energy around him. Old instinct murmured in Garrett’s bones—this is a man who’s seen more battlefields than you’ve set foot on.