One: New Beginnings

La Push, Washington. Of all places, this was where I was supposed to find this mysterious person Trista told me about. La Push was a small Indian Reservation in Washington; this is where all those myths about the Quileute wolves were.

You would think that myths and legends would be fake, unreal, stupid. That werewolves, vampires, fairies, even witches and other mythical creatures were just a bunch of stories and movies. But believe me, all my life, I've known that these things were real. I didn't need to watch Underworld to know that vampires and werewolves were enemies; I've had my fair share of encounters with a great amount of monsters to see it myself.

Washington was basically the country for these creatures, no one knows why, but it just is. Seeing this place for the first time, though, didn't seem so bad. I thought something would just jump out in front of me and start a fight. And that was the last thing I wanted, I absolutely hated it. I probably wouldn't even fight back, I was too scared. I wasn't a witch, werewolf, pixie, elf, werewolf or whatever else there was in world. I couldn't tell you what I was, because I didn't even know myself. I just ran around and sparkly, glowy stuff came out of my palm if I needed to stop someone from hurting me.

I walked down the road to find the little house I was staying at. My guardian, Trista, told me that she knew some people down here. She didn't know that I was in La Push, let alone Washington. She probably didn't even know I was missing. I walked along the road, beside the forest, something Washington was known for; their beautiful terrain. Everything was moist and moss covered. I've never seen a place like this, but despite the beauty I knew that where there were forests, bugs were bound to be close, and that was not good. Bugs were my great weakness. And heights too.

27 Ocean Drive was where Ms. Wyoming lived. Apparently she was Trista's old teacher from her old reservation, who knew everything about us. Maybe I could even ask her what we were, since Trista could not find time in her oh-so-busy life to inform me. That is if Ms. Wyoming let me stay at her place.

I finally arrived at the little red house that had little patches of grass and tiny petunias surrounding the front porch. I walked up to the door, nervous, and quickly knocked three times. A few minutes passed and I regretted running away from home. That is until a small, old woman opened the door. She had an abundance of grey hair that was put into a bun on her little tanned head and she wore a light pink cardigan with some brown pants. If you heard the word grandma, the first image you would think of would be this woman.

"You must be Caramina." Ms. Wyoming stated, with her soft voice. It exuded wisdom and kindness in some sort of way, "Why don't you come inside, it's going to pour soon."

I tried not to cringe as she said my ridiculously hideous name but I was also surprised. Was she waiting for me? Did Trista know I was here somehow and asked this woman to let me into her home?

"Oh, don't be startled, dear," she said with a musical laugh, "I knew you were coming here some time ago. I've been expecting you."

"Did Trista tell you I was coming here?" I asked her; nervous again, "Is she going to come here to get me?"

"No, no," Ms. Wyoming informed me, "Trista told me you would be coming this way and she asked me to let you stay here. She was worried about you; you should call her before she gets worried. You know how she is."

I sighed with relief. I never wanted to go back to Cooperstown, North Dakota again. After what happened, I couldn't bear being in my skin anymore.

"Oh," was all I could say to the nice lady, "thank you."

"Well, I assume you would like to wash up and eat something. Must be a long trip here." She said, sweetly smiling at me, "Oh, and your room is the one beside the bathroom. You'll have to make your own bed. The sheets are there, but there is only so much one little woman could do."

"Thank you." I repeated before she left for the kitchen. I looked around her cramped, little space. It had a home-sweet-home feeling to it. I realized right then that I loved it. I already felt at home, although I was standing in the front entrance for about ten minutes.

I took my overstuffed backpack, filled with clothes, toiletries and my diary. I walked up the light wooden stairs and went to my room, which was the furthest one from the stairway.

I put my bag down and looked around my tiny enclosed space of a room. It had a twin bed and on top of the mattress, soft purple sheets and a pillow. After making my bed, I decided to lie down for a while. I was so exhausted from all the walking, although I had help from a random person that gave me a ride. Soon enough, I fell into the best sleep ever.