Ryim Hawthorne: Extraordinary
Chapter 1:
The Predator and it's Prey
Life is all about choices.
The choices that we make every day of our lives.
The trivial ones – deciding what to wear or worrying if that cute senior boy two seats down from you heard you whispering to your friend that you liked him – those are the most prevalent in our lives. The important ones – what college to apply to or what career to pursue – those are the ones we treasure the most or the ones we regret the most.
But it always come down to two facts: one, life is full of choices that you can't avoid and two, these choices are for you – and you alone – to make.
That's what my parents would say. Life is full of choices – choices that you are going to be in charge of making. As your parents, it's our job to get you ready to make them.
Until I was old enough, was what they meant. Until that sudden realization that I had nearly reached adulthood hit them, I was still learning to make my choices and learning meant sometimes being overruled.
But that was the great thing about my parents: they never overruled. They trusted me, knew that I would make the right decisions for myself. They let me choose what I wanted to wear, what college to considering applying to and what career seemed like the best choice for me, not just my future.
Hell, they even let me choose which boy I wanted to whisper about.
But then it all stopped.
The world around me froze and no longer did anyone care about the choices that I wanted to make. I had spent my life, all seventeen years of it, doing what I felt was best for me. My friends, my classes, my sports. I chose them because I liked them. But it didn't matter anymore. Things were different now was what they muttered, over and over again under mumbled and stressed voices.
I didn't get to choose if I wanted to move from my home in Florida to an uncle's house in some small speck in Washington to live with a man I'd met all of once – and when I was ten, barely interested in being there.
I didn't get to decide that leaving my friends, my school and the only place that reminded me of them was the best thing for me and my future.
I didn't get to choose anything after they left me.
But it's not their fault, I remember, repeating it over and over to myself in the silent ride from the airport to my uncle's – Billy, I learn is his name – house, refusing to speak to any of the two people in the car.
Christopher, though I'd termed him turtle for the way his back was always hunched over in fatigue, is driving. A frustrated crease has worked its way onto his pale white skin, his hands clenched tightly around the steering wheel. The long black hair that he insists on never cutting is tucked behind his ear and has me wondering the whole ride if he is secretly gay – well that and the fact that he cares a little too much for clothes. This, unfortunately, is my brother and the sole reason that I am in a car driving very, very far from my life.
Close siblings we never were. We refused to agree on anything and constantly bickered as if nothing would please us more (and to be honest, nothing really did). There were never those touchy feely moments between my brother and I like you see in the movies. The ones were the brother and sister argue and argue, only to make it up in the end, telling each other how much they meant to one another. That wasn't us and it never would be, especially now.
We were always screaming and punching. He viewed life too strictly – with too much of a need to have a plan for every second of life. I was more free – able to go with the wind and happy to take random moments in life and treasure them.
It was hard to tell we were related, other than the constant bickering that gave it away that we were siblings. Where he had black hair and dark brown eyes, I have blonde hair and unusual gray eyes. Where he was of medium height, I was tall, standing at five feet ten inches. He is built with muscles; I am slender with small muscles – though to this day I still remain stronger than him.
To his turtles right, in the passenger seat, is his girlfriend – Jane. Jane is, to clear all clichéd phrases out of the way, not plain. With sleek black hair and bright blue eyes that seemed to bring out the darker tones in her tanned skin, she'd been offered far too many modeling careers to count on just two hands.
I hate her with a fierceness I'd never known toward anything else in my life. And it isn't because she's beautiful. It's because she's a straight out bitch. The girl has a major superiority complex, thinking she's better than everyone around her because she's so goddamn gorgeous. The second she heard that Christopher had been granted guardianship over me, the suggestion of Washington flew out of her mouth so fast, I was surprised there weren't skid marks. Anything to keep my brother at her beck and call, as if I wanted anything to do with him in the first place.
The minute we pull to a stop in front of what I vaguely remember to be Billy's house, I throw open the door and slam it behind me, making a bee line for the forest. A string of obscenities are flinging from my mouth, some muttered and some screamed, giving them a clear sense that I did not want to be bothered.
The forest, at least, is a redeeming quality of the reservation here in La Push, Washington. I've spent the majority of my life in the woods. It was my playground of sorts. When I was younger and first showed interest in wanting to go, my father happily took me in. For years he taught me everything he knew about hunting and surviving in the forest. Even in the darkest nights, with the right tools, I can shoot down any animal.
I suppose the forest's where I feel most secure and at home. If I'd had a choice in all of this mess, I would have rather lived in the woods than to move here.
Climbing the nearest tree with ease, fairly deep into the forest and darkened by the many branches blocking out the light, I leaned my back against the tree. My feet dangled over the edge peacefully and I estimated that I was a good fifteen, maybe twenty feet in the air. Low enough, I decided.
For the first time since I found out I'd be moving, a genuine smile spread across my face. It felt nice to relax, to not hate everyone around me for not including me in the decision of how my life would play out. I felt relaxed and ready to take a small nap, having refused one in the plane ride and the car ride, when I heard them.
A bunch of boys at the beginning of the forest.
They were complaining, grumbling about the fact that someone named Sam had made them go into the woods. That it wasn't their fault that "the idiot decided to stomp off into the woods thinking she'd be safe."
They'd be horrible hunters, I decide, rolling my eyes. Even with my back to them, pressed against the tree and completely out of their line of sight I know how many there are: four in total, two walking more ahead than the others. Their feet crunches down into the earth, snapping every twig and leaf in their path, with an air of almost arrogance around them. As if they own the damn forest.
My name. My name, Ryim, pops into their conversation and suddenly catches my full attention. I turn my body to face them and watch as the near me, still unaware that I can see them perfectly and hear every word their saying with a clarity not many people have.
The first to come into view is tall – though they all stand at what looks like six feet at the least from this height – with an arrogant gait about him. He is shirtless, as are the others. His dark hair is short and a tribal tattoo adorns his right arm, though I see this is not an individualized trait. The other three sport the same tattoo in the same place on their right arm. I notice the way he holds himself and I'm sure that he thinks he's hot stuff, which I'll be happy to disprove if I am given the chance.
The one to his left, walking slightly ahead of the two in back, is almost a complete opposite. The two share the same dark, tanned skin that I assume is normal with the locals as the other two look similar, but the way he holds himself is different. No arrogance, but a hint of playfulness.
The third boy that I study is vaguely familiar, in the same way that Billy's house is and I assume that this is because this boy is Jacob Black, the cousin I'd been introduced to when I was ten and visiting La Push. His looks haven't changed much, though the height and muscles definitely have. I sense a more commanding presence off of him, though it's laced with what I assume is worry – I can just make out of the creases in his forehead as his urges the other to keep an eye out.
The last boy, who appears to be the youngest of the group, is wearing a smile on his face, his eyes sparkling in amusement of the joke that had just been told. He looks similar to the group he is with – built, tall, with dark hair and tanned skin. But he seems different to me and I decide it's because he seems to be genuinely kind hearted.
After deciding that I know as much of their appearance that I need to, I tune into their conversation. Not surprisingly, it is still about me. The arrogant one continues to complain, earning annoyed sighs from the others and a plea to focus from Jacob.
"It's not my fault your cousin decided to get lost in the forest," He argues back to the group, anger rising in his voice.
The fact that I am annoyed that not only have I become the topic of suggestion or the fact that my brother and his snooty girlfriend sent them in after me, but am getting insulted causes me to clear my throat, catching the attention of the group who have walked right past me. They're surprised, eyes wide as they tilt their heads to see me sitting casually in the tree. The trees made it extremely dark and that added with my height in the tree made them miss me. I can see that a few are questioning if I'm the girl they're looking for.
I don't fight the smirk that finds its way onto my face. I really don't like to be insulted on my skills with the forest.
"I'm not lost."
I half expect the arrogant one to snap out something snarky, but it never comes. Instead, when I look I find him staring, very openly, with his mouth slightly agape. A shiver runs up my spine at the intensity of his gaze. It is unnerving, but I ignore him and the comment of knock it off, Paul, that Jacob gives, turning my head away.
Aware that my attempt at a nap will be futile, I scoot closer to the edge and drop, landing swiftly on my feet before any of the boys can make a move to catch me. Completely unharmed, I stand and stretch my hands above me head, earning confused and shocked glances.
"We're only forty feet or so into the forest, straight in from the house. I highly doubt that anyone would get lost in such a short distance."
My words don't seem to reach their ears. Instead, the youngest stutters out a question.
"H-how did you do that?"
My eyebrows rise. "Do what?" I question, before I remember that it isn't everyday people see someone jump a good twenty feet to the ground and survive unscathed.
"Jump from that tree!" The jokester shouts.
Yes, I affirm my earlier accusation; they would all be horrible hunters.
"I just did. It's really not that hard," I insist and it isn't. At least, not to me.
I can tell they want to ask more questions and I can feel the arrogant one, Paul as I heard the others call him earlier, still staring at me. Instead of sticking around to be bombarded with questions I did not want to answer, I turn and quickly make my way out of the forest. It is a short distance to the house and I cross it quickly, soon standing at the door to the house I assume my brother is in.
Christopher's voice is loud and booming, and he is once against complaining that this – I assume he means my actions – is why he cannot take control of me. I scoff, rolling my eyes. Bull. The reason he cannot take care of me is that his precious girlfriend demanded I be shipped away.
I push the door open and walk confidently into the living room, where it is full of life. My brother is sitting next to Jane on the couch. I contain the laugh that I want to bark out at the concern that she has managed to fake. Besides them there is a man in a wheelchair – who I remember is Billy – one girl, and three other boys who, much like the four I ran into, are shirtless.
"Ryim, dear," Billy starts, turning his wheelchair to face me. I offer him a soft smile and he continues. "We thought you were lost."
"I wasn't lost," I assure him, just as the four boys I left in the woods come bounding in.
Of course, the first thing the jokester boy – whose name I have yet to learn – decides to shout is, "She jumped down twenty feet from a tree!"
This little fact sends my brother ranting and I throw a rather mean glare in the boy's direction.
"Calm down Christopher," I snap, nearly calling him turtle. "I'm very much alive as you can see. Besides, I've jumped from much higher heights before."
Whipping his head in my direction, my brother takes a few steps and stops only when his face is inches from mine. "Enough! You spend too much time in those damned forests of yours! You could get hurt and won't be able to protect yourself. What do you see in spending so much time there anyway?"
I've tried to be somewhat manageable since I boarded the plane. Not once did I insult Jane and her constant need to look in a mirror every five minutes. I didn't snap at my brother in the car ride, when he continued to send me aggravated and worried glances in the rear view mirror. But I would not stand and take it anymore.
Blocking out the presence of everyone else in the room, my face hardens into the mask I wear when I hunt. I reach out quickly, turning my brother around in his spot, bending his arm behind his back. I ignore the yelp that leaves his lips, aware of exactly how much pressure I have on his arm and knowing that it will not break.
The room falls silent, save a few gasps that escape the group. They are all surprised that I'm stronger than I look and I let them be. I don't like to be underestimated.
"Don't you ever tell me I spend too much time in the forest," I hiss before I push him forward, watching as he stumbles forward, nearly falling.
He manages to catch himself and turn to face me, rubbing his now sore arm. I don't do these things on purpose. It's not like I want to aggravate him. He provokes me – does things and says things that he knows will push me over the edge.
"Maybe if you spent enough time in those damned forest you'd be man enough to defend yourself against a girl."
One of the larger boys in the group stands and clears his throat. "Ryim, right?" He asks, to which I stiffly nod my head, peeling my glare away from my brother and fixing a soft gaze on the boy. "My name is Sam. Why don't we get some air outside?"
I don't know Sam – I can tell that he is the leader of the group, strong and powerful, but I don't know him. Still, I nod my head and notice that as soon as I shift to leave, so does Paul. A hunter at heart, I notice much more than the average person and at times, like these, I wish I didn't. It sends another weird shiver down my spine as I follow Sam out.
As it turns out, everyone in the living room decide to follow us, except Billy, my brother and Jane, which is fine by me. It's an awkward feeling standing on the grass of Billy's lawn, but I'm ever focused on the people around me, and their movements. I don't know why, but I feel on edge, sensing something off.
"Are you two always like that?" A voice breaks through the silence. It's Jacob.
I nod my head. "And he always starts it."
Paul's hand twitches – it's a small movement, but I catch it. He wants to reach out to me and, on instinct, I move slightly further away from him. His face drops immediately and I feel the tiniest hint of guilt well up in me, but I push it away.
"I remember you two fighting when you came to visit that one year."
"And I'm sure it was his fault," I add, a small, soft smile now on my lips. Just being away from my brother seems to lift my mood. "Sorry about that though," I apologize. "He has a way of getting under my skin."
They all nod their heads and for a moment we fall back into an awkward silence before the young one of the group, who introduces himself as Seth, speaks up. "How did you make that jump?"
I answer quickly and with a shrug of my shoulders. "Instinct."
"Instinct," he questions, pushing for an elaboration. But I don't have one.
"I've been good with that kind of thing every since I was little. It's easy for me, like I've done it for hundreds of years."
"That's a little weird to think of yourself as having done something for a hundred years when you're only seventeen, isn't it?"
I nod my head, and say with a smile on my face, "I'm a skinny girl with strange gray eyes who hunts in the woods and strives better in their than the real world. I'm the definition of weird."
The group bursts into a round of laughter and Jacob walks over to me, draping an arm around my shoulders. His laugh shakes my body and the heat rolling off of him makes me glad I had decided to wear shorts. "You're going to fit in perfectly."
I can't help it – I smile. His words bring a bit of comfort I don't remember seeking. Maybe, I think, it won't be so bad in La Push, Washington after all.
Then my trained eyes catch the jealous look Paul is shooting at Jacob and I know that things are going to be much more interesting than I expect.
Welcome, my dears, to my new story: Ryim Hawthorne: Extraordinary. It is, as you've guessed, an imprint story. I've been toying with this idea for a while. Ryim Hawthorne has been my favorite character for a long time, but I've never written anything with her and this is kind of a test. Ryim, if you haven't guessed, isn't an ordinary girl. She lives pretty much to hunt in the forest, climbing trees and pretending as though the outside world doesn't really exist, and has a killer eye for detail. And she's got a temper. Don't worry, the next chapter is filled with more interactions and more history on Ryim. Oh, and there's going to be more running in the forest - against the warning of the pack (so it's going to be fun!).
Let me know what you think about the story so far and about Ryim!