A/N: Right - it has been a while! I've been ever so busy! Yikes! So here's the next chapter! Please, read and review!

xYruniwyliox

Chapter Eleven: KitPOV

A week later, I decided to get a tattoo. It was completely reckless. It was completely on a whim. But I was determined. Kida had two. One was of a hawk. She was beautiful. He said she reminded him of Ma. Protecting her nest, hunting anything that could be a danger. He said he'd get a bear when Da goes.

Benji….Benji's bloody covered in ink. He got some girls name done on his right ass cheek in Senior year, which of course made me hit the floor laughing the time he confessed to it. Then, on his ribcage on the left side of his torso, he has a native family silhouette, like an old cave drawing. It's us. It is truly heart-warming and beautiful. He also got a tiny little kitten done over his heart. He says it's me. I found out two years later, that Kida has a matching one. They are both seven years older than me, and they have loved me completely since the day I was born. One taught me to ride a bike, the other a sled. One taught me to train a dog, the other to protect myself. Everything worth anything I have done in my life, was done with either or both of them present.

Three and a half hours, and a shit load of pain later, I left the tattoo place in Port Angeles, where I was supposed to be looking for dog grooming stuff, with a small bandage taped across the nape of my neck. I had gotten a semi-silhouette of a wolf baying at a new moon. It was about a quarter inch smaller than my palm. The difference was, the moon was a silhouette, the wolf – well, I sort of had some inspiration. He was all grey with dark black specks on his flank, with a grey patch on his nose. The artist could not believe I had been so specific, but it was done, and I loved it. I could hide it, by keeping my hair down too!

I sorted Hunter and Kyri out with their grooming brushes and claw clippers before driving back home.

The next couple of weeks at work, I noticed, with the end of the summer term, some kids were asking for jobs. By the end of May, a young kid, maybe fourteen, fifteen years old swung by the diner. His name was Collin Littlesea. He wanted to learn how to cook, and Emily gave him like a seven hour a week shift with me, sort of like a kitchen whelp, you know the type: do the dishes, clean the counters, take out the trash. He was sweet, and eager to learn. I started by showing him how to boil an egg, then how to learn when sausages and bacon and burgers were cooked etc, and he drank in all the information.

One morning, a few weeks later, I was late for work, after arguing with Da. He'd disappeared again, and I'd had enough. "Da, you can't keep doing this. Where do you go?" I begged.

"None of your business. You have a life for yourself, so I need to keep occupied." He'd retaliated. I had pushed and pushed, to find out where he went, and in the end, he slammed the milk bottle so hard onto the table that it smashed, and a shard sliced my cheek faintly. It was a total accident, and I could see that. His eyes widened, but he didn't say anything. He merely called Hunter to him, and left. Kyri whined and put his head in my lap. "C'mon, silly. You're with me today."

I'd loaded him into the cab of my truck, and lifted the tarp from the bed a little so he could climb under and shelter from the rain if the diner got a little stuffy for him. Collin had freaked when he saw the cut on my cheek, and began shaking. I told him to calm down and thanked him for basically covering the breakfast shift. He was still pissed an hour later. I told him to cool it, or get out of my kitchen. He began shaking again, and I noticed he'd shot up like four inches since the night before. He was also a little bulkier – his t-shirt straining against the muscles of his shoulders. He'd calmed eventually, and when he finished, he left sluggishly. I was starting to worry about him.

"Hey," a voice startled me from my reverie and I sliced my thumb with the knife I was chopping tomatoes with. "Ouch!" I cried, clutching my thumb with my other hand, and raising it to my mouth. I wheeled around and saw Embry in the doorway. His eyes widened as he approached me.

"Sorry, are you okay?" he asked me softly. I nodded, "just don't sneak up on a chef. I could have done worse. I know people who've lost limbs, and even grated their own skin." I murmured. He chuckled. "That's disgusting." He finally said. I smiled and nodded.

"You do know how a diner works, right?" I asked him after a little while. He grinned sheepishly, and I turned and started searching for the first aid box.

"Yeah, I know." He replied. I spotted it then, just over his head. I started towards him slowly. "You know you're meant to order, over there, pay, over there, and wait, over there for me to cook your food?" I asked as I approached him, gesturing with my uninjured hand to the little window that led to the main area of the diner. He gulped. I grinned and shook my head. "It's fine. Let me just clean and cover this, and I'll do your sandwich, Em." I smiled. He reached for the box, easily reaching it and lifted me so I sat on the counter. He opened the box and rested it on my lap, pulling out an antiseptic wipe, and cleaning it. I closed my eyes, barely holding in the hiss of pain.

What a whiner baby. It's not even that deep! I thought to myself.

He reached into the box for a Band-Aid, and gently wrapped my sliced thumb into it, before placing a gently kiss to it, his eyes never leaving mine.

Holy. Shit.

I swallowed. My nerves coming back full force. I had never had a boyfriend before. I had never really flirted before. I never had time, and what with having two older brothers and a kennel full of dogs. But this man. Made. My. Knees. Wobble.

He smirked at me. He knew exactly what he was doing. "We'll be having a Bonfire on first beach this weekend. I…" he paused as he looked at my expression. "I want you to come." I gave him a small smile.

"I want you to come with me." He finished, his cheeks reddening. I turned my steel-coloured eyes to meet his cinnamon gaze, noticing for the first time, the trepidation, the worry that I might reject him plain to see, and so I smiled. Anything to ease this man's worry. "Like a date?" I asked. He stammered over his answer, like he wanted it to be a date but didn't want to presume. I gently grabbed his forearm.

"Relax, Embry. I'll only go with you, if it's a date." I clarified. He let out a breath and smiled. "See you there at eight." He breathed, kissing my cheek. My face flamed the colour of a tomato.