Author Note
Thanks for joining me for my second multi-chap! I'm calling this story my love letter to La Push, since it was inspired by my visits over the last year. No phasing or vampires, but don't worry—you'll still get plenty of pack shenanigans. ;-)
A huge thanks to dontcallmeleelee for the banner (seen on Tricky Raven). Per usual, your artwork is beautiful and nails the author's vision perfectly. I appreciate your patience with me!
SparklingFae: Thank you for "getting" this story and sharing that passion with me, and for your ongoing nuggets of inspiration and smileys.
(Check out SparklingFae's WIP "Arrested by You")
jarms: Thanks for being the yin to my yang, the bread to my butter; thank you for the hand-holding (I really DO like it a li'l), encouragement, and general bitch-slapping. Most importantly: Thank you for your friendship.
(Check out jarms' WIP "Dark Matter")
Follow me on Twitter TheWolfGirl7411
Musical Inspiration
"Hearts Like Ours" by The Naked and Famous
Stepping through the doors of the Quileute rec center, Anna flinched, assaulted by the oppressive humidity permeating the warm, enclosed space. Shrugging off her desire to escape outside for one last lungful of salty ocean air, she squared her shoulders and scanned the room.
The dilapidated gymnasium was teeming with people and activity, its stark walls reverberating the buzzing whir of box fans and snippets of animated conversation. Raven-haired children with warm, caramel skin raced past in a game of tag, ignoring admonishments from their mothers who were busily arranging trays of sandwiches and jugs of iced lemonade on a nearby table. A group of young native men carrying hand-made drums stood in the corner. Wiping sweat from their foreheads, they exchanged good-natured banter and regarded the spread of food with hungry eyes.
Aware that her strawberry-blonde hair made her a glaring beacon in a sea of ebony, Anna tugged on a loose strand, offering a shy smile at the onslaught of curious eyes and raised brows. Tapping the seams of her jeans with staccato fingertips, she wandered through the crowd, at a loss for how she'd ever find the man she was scheduled to meet in the overwhelming hustle and bustle.
"Can I help you?" An elderly woman with a sandpaper voice and sun-worn russet skin tapped her on the shoulder.
"Hi … I'm looking for Chief Black?"
"Billy? He expecting you?"
Anna nodded.
"Come with me." Taking her by the elbow, the old woman tottered toward the corner of the room where the throng of drum-wielding men congregated. Conversations ceased as she broke through their huddle and touched one of them on the back.
"Where's your father, Jacob?"
The man turned, friendly sable eyes and a sunny smile brightening his rugged features. He was in his mid-twenties, impossibly tall, with broad shoulders and a muscular torso. Appraising the women in front of him, realization dawned."You must be the reporter."
"Anna Brooks," she said, extending her hand.
He gave it a firm shake. "Jacob Black. Nice to meet you. My dad's right over there—I'll introduce you."
Waving to the elderly woman in thanks, Anna followed him to the opposite corner of the room. Another cluster of young men crowded around an open window, their faces flushed, jostling each other for a gulp of fresh air. With similar height and musculature, they could've easily been brothers. Seeing Jacob approach, they shuffled to the side, revealing a middle-aged man in a wheelchair taking advantage of his front-row access to the cool night breeze. It gently rustled his salt-and-pepper hair, and he closed his eyes in relief.
"Dad." At Jacob's deep bass tone, his father flung his eyes open and turned with a start. "This is the journalist from that magazine you were talking about. Anna."
"Chief Black, so nice to mee—"
"You made it!" Clasping her hands with enthusiasm, he offered a smile—a perfect replica of his son's. "Call me Billy. How was your trip? Are you all settled in?"
"I arrived a few hours ago. It's beautiful here."
He nodded. "La Push is one of the best-kept secrets in Washington. Not too many tourists out this way, just a handful of backpackers and surfers."
"Well, that might change with all the headlines you've made lately," she said. "I've been wanting to write about the Quileute public works initiative for months now. Rumor has it AmeriCorps is trying to start the same program on the Makah reservation."
Billy frowned. "I'll be honest with you, Anna. We don't give many journalists the green light to come out here—been burned one too many times. Heck, just last month, we had a camera crew traipsing in without our permission and filming our burial grounds."
"That's awful." Eyes wide, she tilted her head in curiosity. "So what made my request any different from the others?"
A burst of laughter spilled from his lips. "Well, you can thank the young man responsible for running this little endeavor of ours. Once he saw your background and read your articles, he convinced me to let you come. In fact, he's right over there. Let me introduce you."
Craning his neck, Billy waved to a man helping a small boy tie his shoelace several yards away. "Seth! C'mere. There's someone I want you to meet."
The man looked up and smiled, causing a heated prickle to creep along the back of Anna's neck. Breath suddenly imprisoned in her lungs, she watched him tousle the child's hair and make his way toward them. Like Jake and the others, he was tall and handsome, but his features were softer, more kind, as though he'd never really outgrown his baby face. She swallowed—he was approaching—and her dry tongue popped from the roof of her mouth with a muted click.
"Anna, this is Seth Clearwater. Seth, this is Anna Brooks from—"
"From North America magazine. I recognize your picture." His friendly grin stretched the corners of his mouth. "So nice to finally meet you."
"Y- you, too." She wiped a sweaty palm on her jeans, cursing the frenzied butterflies pillaging her stomach. "I hear I have you to thank for getting me press privileges?"
"Was just saying what a big fan you are of her work, son." Billy clapped Seth on the shoulder and offered Anna a conspiratorial wink. "He hasn't talked about anything else all week."
Seth blushed, his dimples accentuated by the sudden rush of color. "I read all your articles. They're really good, especially the one on the Choctaw reservation. I felt like I was there with you."
"Thanks! Wow, that's pretty much the biggest compliment you can give a writer."
"Well, it's the truth." He swept his disheveled curtain of black hair from his face and smiled. "So you're from Oklahoma?"
"I am—well, I live in Chicago now—but I grew up there, by the reservation. My step-dad's Choctaw, so they're very dear to my heart."
"Well, hopefully you'll feel the same way about us by the end of the week." Billy's eyes twinkled. "We're mighty proud to show off the fine work this guy's been doing out here."
Ducking his head, Seth shoved his hands in his pockets. "He's exaggerat —"
"Nonsense, son! Take credit where credit is due." The chief clapped him on the back once again and turned to Anna. "He got his degree in civil engineering from UDub, then spent a few years in Appalachia with AmeriCorps. Could've had his pick of jobs making big bucks after he finished, but instead he chose to come home and put his degree to work in La Push."
Seth's blush grew even deeper, trailing to the tips of his ears. He shifted, lifting his shoulders in embarrassed shrug. "Eh, I just missed my mom's cooking."
"Stop being so modest." Billy laughed. "Though, I'll give you that. Sue's one helluva cook."
"Our widdle Seffie-poo."
Anna jumped at the sound of Jacob's voice, suddenly remembering his presence. She watched him jack his foot sideways, kicking his friend in the backside. "Such a do-gooder," he said.
Seth punched him in the arm.
"Boys, boys, enough." Billy pulled his son to the side and began a heated lecture about first impressions.
Wearing amused expressions, Anna and Seth watched the two bicker. "Better get used to this," he said. "They never stop."
She chuckled. "I'll keep that in mind."
Touching her wrist, his cheerful eyes suddenly turned serious. "Hey. Hope you don't think I'm weird or anything, knowing so much about you. I just—when Billy mentioned your request to come here, I looked you up and thought you were really interesting. I've been looking forward to meeting you."
With trembling fingers, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, certain he could hear her heart thrumming against her ribs like a caged bird. Clearing her throat, she searched for her voice. "N- no, it's nice. Sounds like we'll have a lot to talk about this week."
His eyes lit up. "Definitely. I wanted to—"
Interrupted by the booming tones of a drum, his voice faltered and disappointment furrowed his brow.
"Looks like they're getting started!" Jake grabbed Seth's shoulders from behind and gave him a playful shake. "Come on, Clearwater, we gotta get over there."
"Have fun, Anna. Make yourself at home." Billy waved, wheeling toward the circle.
With a resigned shrug, Seth followed, then suddenly halted. "Be there in a minute!"
Turning back, he leaned over Anna and whispered in her ear, "There's a bonfire on First Beach after the drum circle tonight. Why don't you come and we can talk some more?"
His heated breath tickled her skin, sending shivers down her spine, and she released a shuddering exhale.
"I'd like that."
With a nod and broad smile, he jogged after the others.
Faster and faster, Anna's foot kept time with the beat of the drums. She'd been mesmerized for the last hour as generations of Quileutes thrummed dizzying rhythms and danced around the circle. Billy's daughter, Rachel, was seated next to her, quietly explaining the significance of each song.
The pulse of the percussion changed, and a new group of men gathered in the center of the room. With wooden spears in hand, they crouched low to the ground, thick legs supporting their bulky frames.
"The Elk Dance!" Rachel pulled Anna through the crowd, grabbing two long staffs from a pile and handing her one. "Come on! Just do what I do."
They joined the line of women maneuvering around the circle, keeping beat with their sticks in a steady thump against the ground. Lost in the chant, Anna paused and closed her eyes, allowing the drumbeats to connect her with ancient Quileute lore. She imagined a tawny elk running through a lush forest, its powerful gait in sharp contrast with the delicate footfall of its hooves.
A loud yelp shattered her reverie and almost caused her to stumble.
Eyelids snapping open, she gasped. One by one, the men were hoisting women over their shoulders and carrying them away. Her frantic eyes sought refuge in Rachel. "What are they—"
One of the men—wearing only cut-offs and a cocky smirk—abruptly snagged Rachel by the waist and lifted her over his head. Anna clasped a hand over her mouth, watching the chief's daughter land a playful swat on her abductor's firm behind and squeal in delight. "Paul!"
Anna turned her attention to the other side of the circle, a jolt of lightning electrifying her body when she connected with a familiar set of midnight eyes. A dense fog settled over her brain, eviscerating any trace of coherence. Overcome by the stifling heat in the noisy, crowded gym, Seth had removed his shirt and pulled back his hair. Casting her gaze over his sweat-slicked, russet skin, she tried not to gawk—but her thoughts were already delving into the dark corners of her mind.
He winked.
Dancing toward her—strong legs pounding bare feet into the floor in a syncopated rhythm—his intentions were clear.
He was only a few steps away when she found herself being swept up in another pair of arms. Hoisted over the stranger's shoulder like a sack of rocks, she felt him weave through the circle while the drumming grew to a rousing crescendo. Her captor spun her around, offering a glimpse of Seth at the edge of the crowd. He was stoic, arms crossed over his chest, face etched with … disappointment?
Before overanalysis could consume her, she was gently set on the ground.
"Thanks for the dance, Blondie. I'm Quil."
"Anna." Raising an eyebrow, she realized he was one of the men fighting over the window earlier. Shorter and beefier than the others, his curly, tousled hair complemented his impish grin perfectly. Placing his hand against the wall, he leaned over, invading her personal space.
"We don't get a lot of hok'wats out here. You visiting the area?"
"I'm a journalist."
"No kidding." He whistled. "Wanna come with me to our bonfire tonight? It'll be a good time. You can—"
"I already invited her."
Anna turned at the sound of Seth's rich voice. Standing off to the side, he was staring at them with yet another look she couldn't quite decipher. The men regarded each other for a moment, before Quil shrugged. "Cool. Well, see ya later then, Anna."
Watching him walk away, Seth visibly relaxed. "Sorry 'bout that ... Quil can be kind of an idiot. Did he bother you? Are you still having a good time?"
"I'm fine. And definitely."
"Good. Only a few more songs to go. Why don't I meet you here when we're done and we can walk to the bonfire together?"
With an enthusiastic nod, Anna smiled. "I'd like that."
The drums started again, signaling the next dance, and an irritated voice carried over the din. "Seth! Come on, man! Get your ass over here."
"That's my cue." Rolling his eyes, he gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. "See you soon."
A/N: The Quileutes hold a drum and healing circle open to the public every Wednesday evening as a way to bring the community together. From my experience, the public circles are very well attended and outsiders are encouraged to participate. Air circulation issues aside, they are fun! ;-)
Interestingly, drumming is also gaining momentum among tribes (Quileutes included) as a powerful tool in preventing and recovering from substance abuse.
There are videos of the Elk Dance online, but I'm not sure whether the person who filmed it had permission to do so. Out of respect for the Quileute photography/video policy, I won't link to it here.
There actually was a controversy in 2009 when MSN filmed Quileute burial grounds. You can read more about it by Googling "Sucking the Quileute Dry" (Note that it's part of a NYT op-ed discussing tribal cultural property in the wake of Twilight.)
hok'wat = "white person" (loose translation)
So ... whattaya think? Leave me a note and let me know. :-)
