Disclaimer: I am NOT Stephenie Meyer. Otherwise it would have been me that had a cameo on Twilight.
Summary: The girl Embry Call imprinted on wasn't ready for him, or for La Push, the only reservation overrun with werewolves. Sage isn't ready for the supernatural, she isn't ready for Embry and she isn't ready for whatever may lurk in dark corners, but can she evade all that's coming?
I
Sage Donnoway
Father said that town was healthy. The air was pure, and it smelled slightly of sea water. The ground was always damp and it soaked the hemline of my favorite jeans, caking my shoes in gritty mud. But it looked like something out of another world… everything was so green.
I told Father this, as I told him that I was unhappy about moving and like I told him that I didn't want any more hospitals. But Father laughed his jolly laugh, round belly shaking like jelly and his brown whiskers bristling, and he patted my head and kissed my cheek affectedly, causing the usual uncomfortable sensation of having a small broomstick pressed against my cheek. "It's good for you," he insisted and then ambled away when my mother called for him.
But my first impression of La Push was acquired from behind a rain pelted glass window pane, myself being awkwardly seated on a hospital bed. I twisted my head round and round again, stretching my neck painfully just to catch a glimpse of this newly discovered green haven. But the click of heels made me face the doctor, and I blanched slightly. It was a she, her long brown hair tied into a fashionable high pony tail more adequate on a runway, and she wore a pair of canary yellow stilettos. Her navy pencil skirt was knee length and her blouse had a ruffled collar like I had seen in the glossy pages of a Vogue magazine. Was I to entrust my health in the hands of a fashion drone?
"Miss Donnoway," she smiled, her voice oozing towards me like a steady flow of poisoned honey.
"I'll be your doctor for the day," she recited, falling just short of charming. "And we'll be chatter chatter smile babble babble chatter smile."
During her stimulating conversation, I picked at my cuticles, pressing the white half moons so that the skin would turn pale yellow underneath. I examined every inch of my finger, taking in a small scar from a childhood incident, tracing creases that appeared when I stretched my fingers.
"If you're uncomfortable with the sight of blood, I suggest you look away," said Whatever-her-name-was, placing her long fingers on my arm, preparing it for the vaccine. I looked at the startling difference between her red lacquered nails and my scrawny pale arm, watching the red tint gleam in the fluorescent hospital lighting. "Miss Donnoway?"
I looked up, meeting her shrewd gaze. The onyx pupils raked over my face, pity and aversion stirring in their depths and making my own eyes flare in indignation. "I don't have a problem with blood," I stated acidly.
Her plucked eyebrows rose ever so slightly, and her eyelids fluttered open further to expose more of the whites of her eyes. If I concentrated, I could make out the small red lines of her veins.
"If you wish," the older woman rose up to meet my challenge, and I internally snorted. Yes, it was a bit pretentious of me to act like that, but wasn't that woman equipped to deal with unhappy brats such as myself? A career woman like she was should at least have some preliminary experience with "over emotional and troubled adolescents" or did she miraculously skip puberty as if she were some pagan deity who sprung from foreheads like zits?
I clucked my tongue, deep in thought and startling Red-Nail-Polish, who jumped and nearly lost her footing. She should be ashamed of wearing death traps to work instead of normal shoes.
She hissed at me as if some sort of enraged cat and shot a pleading glance at my mother, who sat unnoticed in a cold plastic stool in the corner of the room. "Mrs. Donnoway? Your daughter is resisting."
Mother looked up from the magazine she read, her bored eyes taking in my annoyed countenance and Red-Nail-Polish's tense stance. "Sage, please behave." And she looked down at her magazine once more, seeming to melt into the room – becoming part of the spotless white walls.
"Yes, please behave, Miss Donnoway. Act your age, not your shoe size."
"I'm a size nine," I informed my doctor. "But I think you're a size six."
Huffing angrily, she set to work on the procedure of vaccinating me. I focused intently on the needle that traversed layers upon layers of skin, and I bit my lip to distract myself from the prickling pain. Slowly, the clear medicine was emptied into my circulatory system and I wasn't needed for anything else.
After Red-Nail-Polish scratched down a few unintelligible words in "Doctor's Handwriting" (which looks a lot more like a kindergartener's drawing of stick people than the actual English alphabet), she sent my mother and I tripping on our merry way. But of course: where there is honey, there are bees. To clear things up, I must explain my self thoroughly.
If you see me, you can bet you'll see my entourage. Father hovered in the back, swinging silver keys between his stumpy fingers. Nurse Dee took care to place me in my wheelchair and my feet stumbled in the slightest ("Ow!") – causing Mother to swoop down. She used her shaking hands to steady me and placed me in the chair, shooting Nurse Dee dirty looks and commenting on incompetent help. Nurse Dee, like a ruffled mother hen, bustled her way to grip the handles of my wheelchair and wheeled me away.
Two assistants, Shelly and Mae, both young and naïve, flocked after Father and Mother respectively. They babbled about deals and meetings, Mae nearly tripping herself in her hurry to catch up with my mother's swift and purposeful strides, while Shelly chattered rapidly, walking at Father's leisurely pace.
As the Royal Guard and I waited on the sheltered steps of the hospital entrance, I couldn't shake the feeling of having something searing holes into the back of my head, and I self consciously rubbed the back of it, expecting to find my long hair ablaze.
I turned to look backwards, but Nurse Dee's ample figure pretty much blocked my view with the efficiency of a massive boulder.
Embry Call.
It happened, though Embry Call as he propelled himself through the hazy green forest, willing himself to run faster. There was a strange silence in the air – or in his mind, one he hadn't got used to, even almost a year after leaving Sam's pack.
Jake! Quil! Are you guys there!?, he called out, standing straight, poised on the edge of a flowing riverbed. He paused, focusing on the abyss of silence that was his mind. Son of a bitch, why aren't you guys here!?
You sound hormonal said a familiar voice and Embry whined in disappointment. Hey Seth.
Why are you going about insulting people's moms? interrogated Seth Clearwater and he pawed his way through the undergrowth, emerging with some mud and leaves clinging to his sandy fur. Making his way towards the larger dark chocolate hued wolf, the sandy wolf nudged the other with his muzzle. I'm not saying until Jake gets here, declared Embry and when Seth shoved him, he resisted the urge to bury his head in the mud like an ostrich.
Come on, Dr. Phil wants a full report, thought Seth eagerly. Embry snorted and suppressed the day's events into the recesses of his mind.
I won't tell you, Seth, so fuck off.
What's with the language? Another voice joined in, more baritone than Seth's. A salt and pepper wolf wove its way into the clearer and Embry exhaled, Quil.
And what am I? Your neighbor?
Hey Jake, Embry saluted the massive russet wolf. Sarcasm doesn't suit you.
The wolf shrugged its shoulders, snorting out an off tune Disney song. We're painting the roses red – we're painting the roses red! Because we know they'll cease to –
Shut up! said Quil before shoving Jake.
Guys, we don't need to fight over these little things, huffed Seth, clearly put out he hadn't been acknowledged. His dark eyes gleamed mischieviously, Embry here has something to say.
The wolves closed in around the dark chocolate one, splashing and skidding across the shallow river, before standing in front of Embry. Embry! cried out Quil dramatically, I told you that you didn't have to declare your passion for –
But Embry, whose annoyance had been increased by his meddling pack's arrival, snarled fiercely at Quil, the sound ripping through the forest and effectively silencing the other wolf. Jake and Quil exchanged glances, unsure of themselves.
Seth however, he had dealt with Leah before, so he softened his stride as he neared Embry. Dude, don't get so worked up. What's wrong?
Sighing heavily, Embry tried to repress the thought of her. She was in a wheelchair, he moaned. His heart wrenched as he remembered the sprite-like girl who had to be delicately placed in a wheelchair, his face screwed up in pain and he whimpered. What happened? Why wasn't I around earlier, so I could prevent whatever happened?
Hold up, said Jake, trying to calm him down. Where did you see her?
The hospital, whined Embry.
Collectively the pack winced. They thought of their own imprints, seeing them for the first time - in pain, in a hospital of all places.
Embry tried to rid the images of Claire in a cast or Nessie limping, and plopped down in the muddy bank, feeling very defeated. He shut his eyes, trying to block out his friend's frantic thoughts, feeling the soft dirt splatter his fur and the river water lapping at his paws.
Jake nudged his side with his muzzle, and Embry didn't get up, instead he rolled over and looked up into the trees. A small, light green leaf caught his eye, and he stared at it, trying to rid his mind of any thought but that leaf. Such a pretty green leaf.
I think he's lost it, muttered Quil.
Her eyes are that color, mused Embry quietly, remembering a pair soft green eyes trying to peek behind the nurse. Beautiful eyes.
Did you talk to her? asked Seth.
No, said Embry - too deep in thought to register what he was saying.
How did it happen? wondered Jake.
It just did, muttered Embry, his ears plastering to his head at the thought of an interrogation.
Closing his eyes, he thought back to the day at the hospital.
The door clicked shut and Embry sighed. It was the third time in two months his hyperactive younger sister had sprained something and landed herself a day in the hospital. He could still hear her babble something inside the room, talking his dad, who had reluctantly agreed that maybe Embry's sister should live a while with their mom, as to prevent the series of accidents that had been happening in his dad's permanent residence in Seattle.
Embry clamped his mouth shut when asked to opinion, not daring to complain about the lack of space at his home in La Push, and the very idea that Annadela would avoid skateboarding accidents by being moved to La Push, the slipperiest and muddiest of places on the planet.
However, as Embry tried to cram his giant body into the elevator, ducking his head as to not smash the overhead lights, he considered that space wouldn't be a problem. He wasn't around his place too much as his mother was somewhat of a pest.
Embry pressed the button with difficulty, the elevator jolted awake and rumbled down the shaft, creaking slightly in evidence of its old age and maybe as testimony to Embry's body mass. It dinged and the doors slid open, revealing the general calm and gleaming hygiene of the hospital's restored lobby. The speakers hummed a soothing song and a tape recorder voice announced that Someone-or-Other would need assistance on floor six.
Embry felt that this was what a hospital should be and hated every inch of it.
He ignored the buzzing in his pocket, knowing he would crush his phone if he tried to answer, and weaved through the sick and elderly that seemed to pervade the room. "Ow!"
Not even registering the sudden change in his world, his body whipped around of its own accord. Embry frantically searched for the source of the noise, and his eyes were drawn to a girl being supported by her mother. She was thin and pale and Embry made a move to help her out, or even carry her wherever she wanted to go. Just if she would stop being in pain.
Her mother set her down delicately in a wheelchair and Embry's heartstrings were viciously ripped apart when he realized that she wasn't able to walk on her own, the unknown why had him nearly leaping towards her. His eyes desperately tried to understand but a nurse blocked his line of sight. A nurse? What the hell was going on?
He stood there, unmoving and gawping, watching as she was wheeled away. But there was movement, and it came from her, and he saw her turn around as if sensing his gaze on her. A pair of onyx pupils looked at him (or his general direction), rimmed by pale green irises. She fluttered her eyes closed, revealing to him feathery eyelashes, and she turned around, seeming to settle in her chair.
He wasn't able to move for quite a bit, until his mother's small hand tugged at his elbow and he looked down, meeting her concerned brown eyes. "Embry? I thought you left a while ago," her voice betrayed her relief. Embry knew she had thought he was going to do drugs, as he was in such a hurry to leave, and he nearly smiled ruefully. 'No, Mom, I just saw my soulmate. Maybe you could start planning the wedding?'
"It's okay Mom, I just been waiting."
"For what?"
"I'm not sure. Anyways, I think my ride's here." At this statement, her eyes hardened and she parted her lips, intent on preventing him from leaving. But she couldn't do that; he needed to meet with the pack. So before she could issue a word, he turned on his heels and strode out of the automated hospital doors, heading towards his nonexistent 'ride'. He could run faster than any car.
A/N: I finally posted this, yay! All my thanks to my annoying friends and Gregory MacGuire (author of Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West) since both inspired me to write this. (No, I don't know Gregory MacGuire, but his book is awesome!) So review, read another story, eat a cookie, and G'day!
--Vix
