Jacob Black. Six feet, seven inches. Short, shaggy coal black hair. Beautiful brown eyes. Incredibly fit. Brilliant smile. Large hands. Looked twenty, was seventeen. Genius when it came to all things mechanical. And quite a listener. It was like he came from a mail order catalog. I couldn't get him out of my head, which really wasn't helping since I was trying focus on writing my English paper. It was Saturday morning (it wasn't raining, amazingly enough), the day after my car had died...and I still couldn't stop thinking about the way he had looked at me. It was unhealthy. I was sitting on my window seat in my attic room, staring out at the gloomy gray sky. In the distance, I could see the ocean, a pale gray smear against the darker sky. I sighed, tilting my head to the side as I bit down on the eraser of my pencil. It felt like I was avoiding the world. The Cullens because they were insane. Bella, because she was insane too. Tommy (who had called, asking if I wanted to hang out. My reply, "I'm sick.") because he was Tommy and the more I thought about tutoring him, the more I wanted to puke. Hell, even Jacob Black, since I had practically blurted my life story to him on the beach when my car had broken down. Oh God...that was so embarrassing.

Ok. Focus, Amber. "The main theme in Shirley Jackson's story 'The Lottery' appears on the surface to be about...his arms were so muscular and –" I threw the pencil against the wall with a growl of frustration. God girl, get a hold of yourself. I crumbled up the paper I had been working on and it soon followed the pencil. This was useless. But honestly, it wasn't my fault...my friends had said they were vampires. VAMPIRES. This wasn't a "she said you were fat" deal. This was a "disillusioned teenagers who had read too many fantasy books" deal. I sighed, tilting my head to the side, studying the sky outside. I hated feeling like this...like I had to hide from the world. Scrunching up my nose, I slammed my "Norton's Anthology of Literature" shut. Homework be damned. I was going for a walk to try and clear my head. Where would I go? I had no clue. All I knew was that I needed to get out, or my head was going to explode. Or implode. Either one.

Grabbing my gray sweatshirt and tugging it over my head, I started down the stairs, pausing as I walked by Jean. She was sleeping, as she normally did Saturday mornings. She'd be fine for a couple hours. Jamming a baseball cap over my messy hair, I kicked the screen door open and started down the muddy driveway and onto the main road, which really wasn't all that "main." As I walked, I was determined not to think about Jacob Black (God...why had Bella never introduced us?), the Cullens (I mean...he's such a cool guy!), Tommy (and he's got the nicest smile), Bella, (and killer abs...) or – I groaned in frustration. This so wasn't working the way I had planned. I blamed Jacob. He shouldn't have looked at me like that...like I was the only person in the world who mattered. It was unnerving.

I swung down another road, this one weaving its way through the woods – another forbidden path my grandmother had ranted about. "It goes through the bad land. The wolf land. They don't like our kind there." To which I always responded, "Yeah, yeah, grandma. I know. The wolves are our enemies." Honestly, I don't know why she always went on about it. I mean, come on. The wolves didn't like "our kind?" I kicked the dirt in frustration, scowling. I sometimes wondered if I lived in a world of secrets, because it sure as hell felt like it. Wolves who didn't like 'my kind' were the least of my worries. I mean, it wasn't like there were any wolves anymore. They had probably been gotten rid of because they were so close to Forks. The only people who probably came here were teenage girls who just wanted to be alone.

Still, here in the dark woods with old trees and thick undergrowth, it was easy to let my thoughts wander to the old stories my grandmother would tell me sometimes... Jean had always loved to talk about her descent. Now the stories came back to me – the legends of the wolves, of my family's ancestry, everything. Granted, I never believed them like Jean did...

And K'wati the Changer killed the chief of the wolves, and then fled from the other wolves when they pursued him, seeking out vengeance. K'wati left his people, the Hoh Indians, disappearing into the land. From that time on, the Quileute – the people of the Wolf – separated themselves from K'wati's people, who had once been part of their tribe...

I wasn't paying attention to where I was going, which really was to blame for the whole mess. Now, bear in mind that I took dance for a couple years, and I'm not without coordination. But when you're not looking where you're walking through a woods where there are various ledges and dips and hills, as well as handy logs and branches on the ground just waiting to trip someone...well, you fall.

As I tumbled ass over tailgate down the hill, crashing against various trees, yelping and whining as I went. And when I finally bumped to a stop at the bottom of the hill, flat on my back (staring in bewilderment up at the sky), I sort of wish I had looked where I was going. Sitting up dazedly, I stared around in dazed confusion, only to do a double-take when I saw two young men standing in the shadows, looking suspiciously like they were trying not to laugh. With a dark scowl, I got to my feet, touching my jaw (which was throbbing abominably) and pulled back my hand, eyeing the blood that was smeared on it, and then glared furiously at the young men with a low, "Got a problem?"

One of them glanced at the other, the smile curling up on his lips, "Nah honey, I'm fine. I'm not the one who tumbled down that hill." When he called me 'honey,' my gaze narrowed further and I dusted myself off, turning to take a step and crumpling to the ground when I put pressure on my right foot. I was unable to stifle a sharp cry of pain as I sprawled back to the ground, touching my right ankle tenderly. It was swelling up slowly and was a mottled black and blue color. I didn't notice that the young men had come over until one of them said, "I suppose we should let Jakey know..."

I twisted around sharply and wrenched my ankle in the process, a low groan of pain escaping me again. I was about to promise myself never to make fun of Bella for being clumsy again when I remember that I wasn't talking to her. But back to the matter at hand – "Who the hell is Jakey and why would he care that I just sprained my ankle?" The two young men cracked identical grins and the taller one nudged the other, "You want to go let him know, Quil?" I lifted one eyebrow. Quil? What kind of name was that? This Quil fellow nodded and then lazily made his way off to the forest. Then the other guy just sat down opposite of me, still grinning as if there was some huge joke. I stared determinedly back, trying to look my angriest as I demanded, "What the hell is your problem? Who the hell is Jakey? Why are you looking at me like that? And who the hell are you?"

The guy grinned, I glared. Paused, looked him over, and then flopped back onto the ground – why was he bare-chested in this weather? Come to think of it, why had that Quil guy also been bare-chested? Good God – was it just some custom of well-built young gentlemen of the area that I had never known about before?

"I'm Embry. Embry Call. Jakey is Jacob, your dark-haired lover. I'm looking at you like this because it's so damn amusing...Jakey said that you were a feisty one."

I sputtered furiously (mainly at the whole 'dark-haired lover bit) and protested, "I've only met him once. Well, twice, but the first time doesn't really count. So why on earth would he care that I got hurt?"

I would never get a reply to my question, because Jacob himself came bursting through the underbrush, looking wildly around as if in a panic. Quil followed a few seconds, looking wickedly pleased with himself. Embry glanced up, "What on earth did you tell the poor boy?"

The following conversation was entirely confusion, and let me staring blankly.

"Nothing – just that Amber fell down a hill and hurt herself..."

"BADLY. YOU SAID BADLY. Ryder...are you ok?"

"Yes, Jake, it's just my ankle but –"

"Well, perhaps badly but –"

"I sent Quil, sorry I thought –"

"– I'm really fine and it's just –"

And so on and so forth.

It all stopped suddenly when I screamed, "OH SHUT UP."

All three young men whirled around to look at me, and Jacob came hurriedly to my side, crouching down and glancing over me anxiously, "Where'd you hurt yourself?" I sighed, not understanding why he was so worried, but suspecting that nothing I said would change his mind. So instead I merely pulled up my pant leg up to reveal the bruises that were partially hidden by my shoe, "See, really Jake, it's not that bad..."

And then I sucked in sharply when I felt his fingers gently brush over it. It wasn't so much that it hurt...it was just that his hand was so hot against my skin and yet he was so gentle... I glanced down at his hand and then up at him. His eyes were fixed on my ankle as he tugged my shoe off (way too easily, given that it was still tied) and then rolled my sock down gently, his eyes still fixed on it. I looked up with slight embarrassment to Embry and Quil, who had mischievous grins spread out over their faces, both of them smirking down on me."

"Jake –"

"Ryder."

He had started calling me 'Ryder' about half an hour after I met him. I didn't know why he had decided to call me that, but I sort of liked it. Usually when people gave me nicknames it was something like 'Amy' or 'Ambear' or something equally stupid. But I liked 'Ryder' for some reason.

"Jake, really, it's not that bad! Look, I can stand on it just fine and" (I fell back onto the ground after a feeble attempt at standing) "and I really don't need you poking me and prodding me like I'm sort of –"

"It's broken, Ryder."

I stared. Oh no. This was so not on. I could not have a broken ankle. I never broke bones. Never in my life... I had always been the more graceful one out of my friends and never went tumbling around hurting myself. And so, I protested his announcement that it was broken, "Jacob, it's not broken. Just...sprained. Or something. Really."

He gave me a withering look and I scowled back, but listened as he replied shortly, "If it's not broken, walk on it. If you can't, we're going to the hospital." Oh, this was just getting ridiculous. Embry and Quil were trying desperately not to laugh. Jacob was looking annoyed with me and them. I was just in such pain from my ankle. So, determined not to make it worse by having to go to the hospital (besides, Jean couldn't afford to pay the bill), I took a deep breath and stood up. Pain shot through me as soon as I put pressure on it, but I forced myself to stand upright. I took another step, and then another, sending a "don't you dare say a word" look at Embry and Quil as I slowly limped my way down the path about ten feet (in quite a lot of pain) and then turned to look at Jacob, who had straightened up and was watching me with faint amusement, but still with worry. And then, confidently, I walked back to him. Pain, pain, pain... It kept wrenching up and down my leg.

"See?" I said proudly, staring up at him from where I had stopped, pretending (quite well, I thought) that I wasn't hurt in the least. He looked down on me, his brown eyes locked on mine with such an powerful stare that I felt color starting to creep into my cheeks, which had paled when I hurt myself. That stare lasted for a few intense seconds and for one wild moment I actually thought he was going to kiss me – his head lowered ever so slightly, his eyes flickering down to my lips. The spell his eyes cast on my was only broken when Embry (or was it Quil?) coughed pointedly.

Jacob took a step back, color seeping into his russet toned cheeks and he glanced down at my ankle again and he remarked quietly, "It's broken, Ryder."

"Fine," I said shortly and with a dark glare up, up, up at him. "But I'm not going to the hospital. I don't need to." Jacob sent me a look of disbelief and then with a faintly animalistic growl in his tones, "You're going to the hospital." I blinked in surprise, about to protest when he took a step forward, and in one quick movement, had picked me up in his arms and was striding calmly down the path.

Never having been one to appreciate being swept off my feet by someone bigger then me (even as a child, I had protested when my father would pick me up without my permission and swing me around), I began yelling in protest, "JACOB BLACK, YOU PUT ME DOWN RIGHT NOW OR I'LL –"

My threats careened onwards in such a manner, getting angrier, more profane and more violent as he went down the path, still carrying me like I was some damsel in distress and he were my Prince Charming. Except I doubted that Cinderella or Snow White ever fought this hard. Or that Prince Charming had such a damn hard head, because Jacob Black had a damn hard head. I realized this when I attempted to punch him to make him let me go and my knuckles just made a rather sickening "thud" sound.

By the time we were out of the forest, I had resigned myself to being carted around like a sack of potatoes and was having a pleasant (well, as pleasant as I could be with an apparently broken ankle) conversation with Quil about the pros and cons of being home-schooled when I realized we were out of the thick trees and were near a small house with a gravel driveway. There was a ramp up to the front porch, and on the porch itself was a man in a wheel chair, with long black hair and a weathered, kind face. He looked up as he heard us coming, and a smile broke over his face.

As Jacob carried me up the porch, he glanced over at the man in the wheelchair, announcing, "Ryder, meet my father, Billy Black." Still tangled up Jacob's (incredibly muscular) arms, I lifted a hand, "Hey, Mr. Black. I'm Amber...Amber Ryder." The smile spread even further over Billy's lips as he nodded, "I've heard all about you."

"Daaaaad," Jacob groaned as he gently set me down on a porch swing, "Do you have to be so..."

"Honest?" Billy cracked another grin. I coughed, focusing my attention down on my broken ankle. Quil and Embry had apparently given up fighting the laughter and had doubled over in the front lawn. Jacob was glaring at all of them, rubbing the back of his neck before grumbling, "She's got a broken ankle."

Billy nodded, not too phased by this apparently and remarked, "I'll call the hospital while you take her over."

"I'm not going to the hospital!"

I'm ashamed to say that I practically bellowed the sentence. Everyone finally quieted down and looked at me in faint astonishment, as if none of them thought that a girl my size could make a noise that loud. Hah. Surprise, surprise.

"Ryder!"

"Black!"

"BOTH OF YOU."

We both glanced over at Quil in surprise. Embry burst out laughing. Billy just kept smiling at me and Jacob.

Somehow, someway, they got me into Jacob's car. I was protesting almost all the way (I only shut up when Embry made a comment about us fighting like an old married couple) and when we finally pulled into the parking lot, I was determined to walk in on my own power, having had enough of being carted around. Standing outside the hospital, I looked into the doors quietly, and then turned around, "I'm not going in."

"Ryder, listen..."

"No, you listen. I don't know where you get off thinking that you can boss me around but if you think I'll walk into that hospital when we can't aff –"

I broke off, snapping my mouth shut, not wanting to get into that. However, Jacob neither looked dumb or was dumb, because he merely replied quietly, "It's been taken care of."

With that, he put a hand on my arm and propelled me towards the hospital doors.