DISCLAIMER: I do not own these characters, Stephenie Meyer does. I just took them out for a little test run with my new love interest, second person POV. But, I do own Eclipse, an ipod and a newly decorated Christmas tree.


The Imprint

"It's not like love at first sight, really. It's more like… gravity moves. When you see her, suddenly it's not the earth holding you here anymore. She does. And nothing matters more than her. And you would do anything for her, be anything for her… You become whatever she needs you to be, whether that's a protector, or a lover, or a friend, or a brother."
Jacob Black
, Eclipse, Chapter 8, p.176

You push yourself harder, wind blowing against your fur, the smells drifting through the thick tree's and assaulting your senses. You can hear the voices of your pack members, but there a mere murmur as adrenaline courses through your veins.

The rush of running is giving you a high, your tongue lolling out of your mouth and drying as you push yourself to go faster.

Grass becomes soft wet earth, and your eyes focus on the road ahead of you. You know you'll have to change back, slip into your cut off jeans and pretend to feel human for a little while.

Slowing to a soft trot, you lean back on your hind legs and dig your claws into the ground, stretching your back and allowing the voices in your head to rise in volume. There setting shift times and calling days, but it's all a muffled tunnel of words.

Your alpha's voice echoes loud and clear as he states that you'll have midnight shift tonight, but for now you have to change back and attend school. You merely nod your head in agreement, knowing you can't reject the alpha's orders, and rushing a quick goodbye.

You feel yourself slip into a relaxed state, your muscles shifting and clenching and slowly transforming into your human form. The fur covering your flesh slowly disappears, and your paws turn into feet with toes. The rush of the change sets into your skin, a slight prickle under your flesh.

Pulling the shorts from the band around your left leg, you pull them over your nude body and start through the forest and towards your house, hoping for a quiet return.

Your beds warm when you fall onto the hard mattress, alarm clock still set for your wake up time. You have an hour before you have to slip into your facade and return to school since your change. You'll have to drift through bodies and hope they ignore the excessive heat rolling off your flesh in waves, hoping you can keep calm and ignore anything that makes you angry. But for now your eyes slip shut, and waves of lethargy roll over you, pulling you under and into unconsciousness for a little while.


The alarm beside your head rings in a high soprano voice, calling you back from your ocean of sleep. Fumbling with your weak and heavy limbs, you throw a hand up and onto your bedside table, smashing the weak electronic in your sleep induced fog.

Your curse under your breath, and throw the sheets off of your hot body, fumbling to throw the broken pieces into the trash. Some how you'd find an explanation to tell your mother, later.

Without a clock, you rush to throw an uncomfortable tee shirt over your exposed chest and start for your bedroom door, running a hand through your hair as a brush.

When you enter the living room, you see your mother sitting at the kitchen table, bills laid out before her, long black hair pulled into a bun. She greets you with a soft good morning and you return the sentiment, immediately starting for the plate of eggs she has laid out for you.

You spend breakfast chatting about little things and watching your mother stress about the bills that need to be paid, before you quietly remind her that you have to leave. She bids you good bye in a distracted voice, barely noticing your over heated skin as you kiss the top of her head good bye.

Your truck rumbles to life, and you've missed the sound of the engine as it revs and you quickly shift into drive.

The drive to school is uneventful, and your already suffering from cabin fever. You pull into the parking lot of your high school on the reservation, and find a spot, turning your car off and climbing out of the cab. You can see your pack from your position, and with a reserved sigh you start for them.

Mumbling words to each other about your shifts and what to do if you feel yourself slipping into wolf form, you mumbled good bye and start for your first class. Your heads swimming with everything you've learned in the past few weeks, words echoing and reminders penetrating the fog. The morning passes by slowly. Your teachers ask if your alright and give you the packet of work you missed in your two weeks off. You thank them and wave off their concerns, forcing yourself to focus on the words and numbers on the board.

And when the bell above your head rings, the sound louder than before, you wince at the harsh pitch. You swing your back pack over your shoulder, and start towards English class with a bored expression.

Bodies turn to stare as you enter, but you've gotten used to the attention, barely acknowledging as they openly stare at your physical changes.

Your slipping past gaping students and sliding into your seat, glancing up at the board and muffling a groan. Pop quiz, it reads. Those words cause you to curse under your breath, and bend down to grab your bag, sifting through it for a fresh piece of paper and a pencil.

You grab the required objects and bend forward to write your name at the top of the paper, grasping your pencil too tightly and feel it bend in half under your weight. The snap goes unnoticed, but you nervously glance around to make sure, anyways.

Knowing that was your only pencil, you turn towards your neighbor and lightly tap her on the shoulder. Her body freezes for a moment, but that's forgotten when she turns her head and locks her muddy brown eyes with your own.

Something shifts in your body, and you can see thick strings latching themselves to her. Suddenly nothing else matters. Suddenly all you can see is her brown eyes, and her long black hair, and the light freckles on her cheek bones. You notice the deep pink of her soft lips, the way her chest moves when she breathes. You can see the soft coating of red on her russet skin, and the way she's watching you.

She only matters. You don't care that the teacher just walked in, or that the broken halves of pencil in your palm are slowly turning to dust as your clench your hand around them tighter. She's your sun and your moon and your oxygen to breath. Your only happy when she is, and you feel her pain.

But at the moment all you can feel is her confusion, so you make yourself focus long enough to listen as the wrong words fumble from your mouth and out into the air.

"Can I borrow a pencil?"


Author's Note: I know it's not alot. And I know it has nothing to do with Edward or Bella, but I love this couple and I wanted to try my hand at Second Person POV. So, let me know what you think, and let me know if you know what coupling this is. ;)

Happy Holidays, and Merry Christmas everyone!

xx Cherolyn