A/N:I'm so very grateful for all the reviews and likes, even if I don't respond to them. Call me shy, because I just never know what to say. But I'm tickled pink, honestly I am!
Anyway, here's some of our sunshine boys. I don't own anything except this dramatic little take I've spun here. All credits to Smeyer, even if she did us dirty with how she treated these babies lol *heart eyes here*
JACOB BLACK
"Jacob do this, Jacob bring me that," I grumbled mockingly. I made a spectacle of pounding each foot into the dingy old carpet that covered the stairs on my way up. "Here's a neat idea, why don't you do something for a change."
Rachel always treated me like I was her personal servant, commanding me around like she was the queen of the house. Well I was fed up. Being the youngest, however, I didn't have much say in the matter. Even mom and dad turned their eyes blindly. Families help each other, they'd say, cooing on about how she loved me, and appreciated everything I did for her. There was a whole spiel about how lucky my sisters were to have such a helpful little brother. I could recite it by heart, but I wouldn't exactly say the same in return.
"Wait up, Jake!"
Quil Ateara bounded up the stairs behind me, leaping from step to step like an excited puppy. I pictured him with a wagging tail, and a huge sloppy tongue flopping over the edges of his big mouth. His worn red shirt was as caked with grime like it usually was, and covered in stains. But it was still his favorite one, and he wore it as often as his mother would let him. Quil was built from a myriad of disproportionate attributes, where everything seemed to grow at their own rate. While he had wide hands, they were fixed at the end of long, thin arms. His head was much too large for such a wispy frame, with lashes too long for the slanted eyes they shielded. I thought he resembled some sort of bobble head with that goofy grin always plastered over his full lips. We didn't really get along. Or rather, I couldn't stand him and he didn't care, determined to hang around my little red cottage as often as he saw fit. Quil never seemed to notice the offhand remarks I made at his expense, and if he did, he was just too stupid to put the pieces together. On top of sharing a grandfather, our dads were best friends, and so they always lumped the pair of us together as though it made us best friends as well. We were cousins, and I loved him fiercely, but that didn't mean I liked him one bit. I waited impatiently for whatever dumb suggestion he was sure to offer.
"Whatcha doin?" He grinned, mischief and questionable intentions scribbled over his wily face.
I gawked back at him, knowing full well he'd heard my sister's request. He blinked back, and, with a frustrated sigh, I replied. I'd never get rid of him otherwise, and maybe not even then.
"Just grabbing a hairbrush and some ties for Rach."
"Oh, cool." But it wasn't, really. "I'll come with you," he sung, wandering ahead before I could protest.
"Cool," I repeated dryly.
He sauntered towards the twin's shared bedroom, pushing open the door with absolutely no respect of their privacy. I raced in behind him, but by the time I made it in the door, he was already rifling through their stuff like a bandit. I rolled my eyes, but proceeded to search through the chaos of the room for the desired items. The knowledge that they were not at all where they were expected to be came with the intense urge to rip my hair from my scalp. Maybe if they cleaned their room I'd have an easier time finding their stuff for them. Better yet, they might learn to get things for themselves instead of always making me do it. I muttered a few words I sure hoped mom wouldn't hear beneath my breath as I trudged back to the edge of the staircase.
"IT'S NOT THERE," I called down at the top of my lungs. A long silence passed before she yelled back.
"Check the bathroom."
I rolled my eyes, but dutifully did as her Royal pain in the butt demanded. At a glance, I spotted it on the sink, dripping wet and filled with long dark strands of forgotten hair. Ew. No way was I touching that. I scooped up a few hair ties, and called down for her to catch them, watching with devious amusement as she scrambled over where they scattered. The glare she fixed at me was almost worth the labor.
"Couldn't find the brush," I shrugged.
She breathed out an annoyed gust of air. "Whatever, I'll come look for it myself."
The youngest of the twins turned brightly on her heels, making her way back to the cluster of girls locked in a hair braiding train on the living room rug. I could hear her muffled voice explaining to them, and remembered Quil, who was still in her room. What was that idiot doing anyway? As I rounded the corner into the doorway, my limbs seemed to lock in place. It was then that I remembered the very first thing I'd ever learned about Quil Ateara; never let the bugger out of your sight, not even for a second. Panic seeped into my bloodstream and a flush crept over my neck. Quil beamed back, holding up his find as though he'd reeled in a halibut too magnificent to have been caught in the reservations river. But in his slimy little fingers was definitely no fish, and certainly not a sight I'd ever be able to un-burn from my mind. Unfortunately, Rachel chose that moment to burst into the room, and I knew he'd never make it out of the house fast enough, much less alive. It only took a second for her to spot the piece of cloth dangling from his index finger, bright blue with chocolate chip cookies all over it. Her eyes slid down to the open top drawer on the dresser, her underwear drawer, and her brown eyes bugged right out of her head.
"Oh. My. GOD!" She squealed. She lunged for him, but he was smaller, faster, more determined. "Drop it you little pervert!"
Quil flew between her body and the wall, slipping just out of reach. "Lookie lookie, I found a cookie," he chanted.
He giggled a maniacal little laugh, before tossing the thing my way. To my eternal mortification, I felt traitorous hands reaching to pluck them from the air on reflex.
"Oh god. Oh god..oh godohgod!" My sister's underpants were in my hands. Nothing could be more horrible than that.
My body was torn between hurling my guts there in the hall and withering away into nothing. I was going to drop it, - seven years old was way too young to die, I decided - but then there was a very furious girl stampeding my way, and again my muscles reacted faster than my brain. So I threw it back. It soared over her head and landed in the other boy's eager grasp. Rachel roared her outrage, cursing me out against her better judgement, and Quil booked it out the door with her underwear. She chased after him, nearly grabbing his flailing limbs on several accounts, but always seemed to be just a second too slow. Quil was fast, evasive to the extreme despite his obvious lack of self-preservation.
He'd miraculously made it down the stairs without so much as a scratch. I watched the scene play out from the lowest step, careful to remain out of reach. The only thing standing between him and his inevitable death was a circle of slack-jawed prepubescent girls, their hair braided at the top but still unruly and unfinished at the ends. Several sets of eyes danced between the two and nobody breathed. As Rachel stalked to the left, he prowled right, flashing a fresh gummy gap from where he'd recently lost another of his baby teeth. He may be lacking in childish chompers, but he still had a long way to go before anyone would call him mature. It's probably why his adult teeth hadn't come in yet. Quil smugly twirled the pair around his fingertips, causing Rachel's voice to drop low, her tone seething and dangerous.
"Give. It. Back," she warned.
"Why, are they your favorite?" He challenged her, waggling his brows and digging his grave deeper than ever. "Do you wear them often?"
"I'll kill you like the bug you are Quil Ateara, so help me god."
"You have to catch me first," he teased.
She flung through the circle, and he turned, but she clipped the edge of his beloved t-shirt and yanked. Hard.
"Careful what you wish for, twerp," she said as their bodies tumbled to the floor. The rolled about in a messy, wriggling heap, and he screamed. It was higher in pitch than nails on a chalkboard, and the cluster of adults came scrambling in from the kitchen. Surprise halted them in their hasty tracks as they struggled, and failed, to comprehend the wild scene playing out before them.
"You scream like a girl, Ateara," laughed Leah Clearwater.
It set the rest of the girls into a giggling frenzy, and they began to egg Rachel on as she wrestled the younger boy on the rug. She straddled his back, effectively pinning him to the floor, and unleashed her worst upon him.
"Yeah, and he fights like one too," spat Rachel, as she pummeled the boy beneath her. It was clear that he was at a severe disadvantage, and one of his tiny arms curled over the back of his head in a weak attempt to protect himself from the flying fists. The other was tucked safely under his chest, still clutching the cookie panties for dear life.
"Get off of me, you cow," he called out, the words muffled by the carpet. Shocked gasps rung out in a unanimous, harmonized chorus. If steam could come out of Rachel's ears, I'm pretty sure it would have.
"I am NOT a cow!" She shrieked.
Either to prove her point, or just to shut him up, she dropped all of her weight down. Her thighs squeezed the life out of Quil, and his face pinked as he fought to breathe. He tapped fruitlessly at her legs, bucking and thrashing to escape her death grip. Finally, by the grace of whatever spirits were watching out for the foolish boy, his fingers tangled into her long hair. He wrapped it around his hand and pulled, launching her from her vantage point and onto the floor beside him. Surprise glittered his features for half a second before sense kicked in and he scurried yet again out of reach. Rachel jumped up, angrier than ever, and ran after him with deadly intent. As they sprinted past the kitchen doorway, two firm hands snatched the pair back by the scruff of their shirts. It was all over now, I thought.
"What is going on in here," Billy chastised, releasing his grip.
Two mouths opened at once, their voices spilling over each other in an incompressible gush of panic. They both fumbled to get in their sides of the story, until my father held up his hands. Silence washed over the room once more as he fixed them each with.. the look. It was a mastered art, passed down to each Chief of the tribe from the ominous Elders. It was a look so engulfing and nerve-wracking that you had no choice but to behave, and tell them all of your secrets. He scanned over the room with that withering gaze, before finally settling it on me. Crap. His brown eyes met my own, but they were the eyes of the Chief and not my father. I gulped as he beckoned me forwards with an expectant raising of his brow. Of course I was the one to be caught in the crossfire.
"Yes sir," I nearly whispered, stepping down from the last stair towards him, into the line of fire. I looked over at Quil, who's lip had begun to quiver, and who's face held a sorrowful resignation. My intentions had been to see him punished for putting me in this position in the first place, but something in his eyes held my tongue. I knew he would accept whatever grueling punishment, for there was sure to be one, without complaint. His expression was one I'd never before seen on his face, and it surprised me. I recognized regret, clear as the moon in a midnight sky, and shame. But above all there was fear. I'd never known Quil to be afraid, and I immediately felt pity for him. He knew that nobody would be on his side; they never were. But for all the times I'd sneered him off, not once had he turned me in to my parents. It never got him down. He took it in silent, resilient stride, and tried again each day we were forced into each other's lives to make the most of it. To make an honest friendship out of nothing. I thought back over the whole debacle, how we had ended up here in the first place, and a decision was made. I would be on his side, even if I had to bend the story a bit to my father. Words flew from my mouth in an uneasy rush.
"Rachel made us go look for her brush and hair ties for her, instead of doing it herself. And we couldn't find them so I told him to look for the ties while I checked the bathroom and he thought I said.. something else. Quil found her panties and was going to put them back. She came up though and she started yelling and chasing him around before he could." I stopped only when breathing became necessary, squeezing in air like I'd never tasted it before.
"That's not-" Rachel began to protest, but was silenced. Billy's eyes turned on a wide-eyed Quil, who bore a look of utter disbelief.
"Is this true?" the chief asked dubiously, searching the tiny face for even a hint of lie. But Quil nodded in earnest, and I was relieved that he had enough wits to play along.
"You little liars!" Rachel dove for Quil, but her foot caught on the dip in the floorboards and she fell flat on her face.
I laughed, earning myself a disapproving 'tsk' from my mother, but Quil bent to help her up. That was a power move if I ever saw one, and was sure to aid our argument. She pushed him off roughly, rising on her own with indigence and wounded pride. To my surprise, and major relief, nobody was punished. Sincere apologies were dealt like cards, and the offending fabric returned to it's rightful owner to be stashed away in its proper place. Then Quil and I were sent outdoors with a stern warning to behave ourselves, and the girls were bribed into the kitchen to help my mother with her baking. Rachel nearly died when she found out what they were making, and Quil had sat on the couch eating the fresh chocolate chip cookies with an exceptionally sly grin. He hadn't said much after that. Afterwards, we walked along the path towards the river, one we'd travelled together more times than I could count. But this time, I wasn't rushing ahead of him, or trying to discourage his presence with mean jabs under joking pretense. He fell into step at my side, and I drank in his thoughtful, faraway gaze.
"Why did you save my ass in there?" He wondered, finally breaking the quiet evening air. His tone was dry, lacking the usual vibrant flavor that I'd come to associate with Quil Ateara V.
"Cuz we're friends," I shrugged, embarrassed for some reason.
He shook his shaggy head of hair in frustration. "You don't even like me, Black. I'm not stupid, I know you haven't wanted me around all these years."
He had noticed after all.
"If I weren't your cousin, you'd probably never let me in your house. Yenno, if you had a say in it." We both snorted at the last bit.
"I'm sorry I'm always kind of a jerk to you," I admitted. Guilt turned my cheeks a rosy red, and I could have sworn I saw him grin, just a little.
"Kind of my ass Jacob, you're really mean man. My feelings are pretty sore from all the beatings you give them."
For a short moment I was inclined to feel bad, until I realized that he was absolutely messing with me. The kid was actually pretty funny sometimes.
"Thanks for having my back," he whispered. I almost wasn't sure that I'd heard it, but I nodded. A fond smirk ghosted over my lips, parting the tension. He matched it with a bright smile of his own.
Neither really sure what to say, we just walked. An array of hidden birds chirped in the rustling trees, and the synchronized patting of our footfalls spoke more than words ever could. It was a comfortable comradery. A thought prickled at the back of my skull.
"Hey Quil?" I smirked, and he cast a sidelong glance my way. "You know Rach is your cousin, right?"
He stopped walking, and his tanned skin took on a greenish hue. I hadn't realized he could look so pale.
"We're never talking about this again," he winced. Then, either from embarrassment or excitement, he took off down the path. "Race ya to the river," he called over his shoulder.
For the first time in my life I followed him, willingly, with rich laughter bubbling from my chest in tidal waves.
...
I wasn't even sure what the joke was anymore, I only knew that my gut was bursting and my vocal chords would be sore for days. Still, the howling laughter cascaded abundantly from our lips. Embry was rolling about the floor with his eyes squeezed tight. Quil had his mouth hanging open as though to finish his dramatic re-enaction, but the words were lost in a fit of giggles. One foot stood on top of the spare mattress that had been placed on my bedroom floor, with his knee bent to prop the other foot on my bed. He had a t-shirt tied around his neck like a cape, and held a staff we'd made by jamming toilet paper rolls together.
"As King of you idiots," he bellowed valiantly. "I hereby declare tha-"
But we never got to hear his decree. The rough pounding on the front door, followed immediately by the chime of the bell cut his announcement short. The boys looked to me, confused, and I shrugged. I had no idea who it might be at such a late hour. Three sets of ears perked, listening carefully for the sound of Rebecca's feet treading the stairs. My dad, who has spent all day on the lake, hadn't made it back yet from the Clearwater's, where they were undoubtedly cleaning, scaling, and filleting an ungodly amount of fish. Mom was out with her cousins for the day, doing whatever it was that women do, and Rachel was spending the night with Leah. That left poor Rebecca in charge of the three Stooges. The door creaked loudly as she swung it open. Deep and unfamiliar voices flooded the entrance. At the formality of their tone, unease welled in my still aching stomach. I crept to the edge of the staircase and peered down. Two men in police uniforms stood stiffly in the doorway. One caught my eye with his hardened glare, and he swallowed thickly before averting his gaze back to my sister.
"I'm officer Brooks, and this is Officer Haggard," he said. I noticed how his voice trembled ever so slightly. "Is there a parent or guardian around we could speak to?"
"They left me in charge," Rebecca chirped confidently. "Is there a problem?"
"I think it would be best if you called an adult home," he insisted.
Rebecca nodded. She shifted on her feet to silently encourage them to step inside, and they tiptoed through the living room. Something about their nervous nature rung off warning bells in my mind, but I wasn't sure why. Maybe it was because they were from the Forks police unit, and they didn't usually come to the reservation. Or perhaps it was just the sight of strangers, workers of the law no less, sitting in our living room. As Rebecca dialed in the number for the Clearwater's home, I stumbled back up to my bedroom and closed the door.
"Who was it," Embry urged half-heartedly. I pressed my back into the wood, feeling dizzy.
"Cops," I replied. My voice felt tense, unfamiliar in my own ears. Quil's eyes lit up with curiosity.
"Seriously? What do they want?"
I bit out a reply through tightly clenched teeth. "Not sure. Becca's calling my dad though."
A heaviness settled over the three of us, and we moved our gathering to the staircase. We sat staggered on the higher steps, staring into the lion's den as we waited for the sound of the truck rumbling up the driveway. Ages past in tense succession, the cops sipping nervously at the water offered to them and avoiding our young eyes. It was clear that something was gravely wrong. What it was, however, remained a tight-lipped mystery. Finally, my dad's sturdy footsteps knocked against the wood of the deck, and the door swung open. I felt relieved that he was here, as though his presence alone was shelter enough from the onslaught of intrusive thoughts riddling my terrified mind.
Dull pleasantries were exchanged. Then men all shook hands, and the kids were sent begrudgingly upstairs. Out of sight, but not quite out of earshot, the four of us huddled together with craned necks. We inched as close as we could, silent and stealthy, so as to hear what was said.
"There's ... -n accident... -the road leading... You're wife, she was... -didn't make it."
I could pick out that my mom was a factor, but aside from that, it all sounded like nonsense to me. I cast a glance towards Quil, seeing the same befuddled expression as I had. But Embry's entire body had tensed and his gaze drilled holes in the floorboards. Rebecca's tanned skin took on a sickly, sallow hue, and I knew it was bad.
"What is it?" I whispered. Tears prickled at her eyes in huge, fat drops. She refused to let them slip down her cheeks.
My sister smiled at me, but I knew it was forced. She shook her at me, almost defiantly, and moved towards the stairwell.
"It's going to be okay, Jake, I promise," she cooed. "They're going to find her, and then they'll realize that it's all just a big mistake."
Embry eyed her helplessly, pitifully. I didn't understand. Find who? Find her where? Nobody was making any sense. She whispered to herself before she stomped down into the living room. "She's fine. Mom's totally fine."
"Rebecca," cried my father. His voice broke, almost like he was crying, but I didn't know why that could be. Rebecca said everything was just fine. So why didn't it feel that way?
"Honey, please go back upstairs."
She ignored him entirely, setting her sights sharply at the officers. "Why would you say that," she demanded.
I heard the cop, Officer Brooks I thought, stutter an apology to my father. As I tumbled down after her, despite Embry pleading with me not to, I saw my dad wrap his arms around Rebecca.
"Relax, kiddo. Breathe," he hushed. Her whole body was trembling violently, and it took me a moment to see that she was crying. She pushed his arms off her shoulders, whirling back towards the men in uniform.
"No. Daddy, they're lying!"
The officer's eyes danced over everything in the room except the somber pair before them. It was like they were giving as much privacy as they could in the small space, like whatever they were witnessing was a private affair. Dad hugged her tightly to his chest again, and this time she let him.
"No, baby. She's gone," he whispered softly into her hair.
Acid lapped at the back of my tongue. I wanted to run, but my feet were bolted and soldered to the floor. There was a pounding, in my head I realized, like I was standing dead center in a drum circle. There was no air left in the room, but I fought to pull in air anyways. Rachel's sobbing voice was faraway, hollow, unrecognizable.
"They made a mistake," she whimpered, crashing down into the arms around her. "It's someone else. It has to be somebody else."
Dead.
The unwelcome visitors lifted from their perch on the worn couch. Did they notice that the house smelled of cinnamon and tea? Could they smell her warming aroma over the pungent trickling of wood smoke from the stove? I frowned, because there was no reason they could. It was all just a blanket in the background to them. But they stood, rocking uncomfortably as they sought for the words to say. But someone was dead, and there was little more explanation needed.
As their presence swept swiftly to the door, Officer Haggard blinked blankly at my father.
"Everything will be ready for you at the hospital when you want to make the.. arrangements."
What was there to arrange? Had I misunderstood, like Rebecca had said?
"You're welcome anytime you want to see the bod-.." he cut himself off, but not in time. Not before the damage could be done. "Her. If you want to see her."
Dad nodded, but I wasn't sure if he had heard a word of it. They closed the door on their way out, or maybe somebody closed it later. I wasn't sure. I couldn't remember. I didn't care. It was when that shiny cruiser disappeared down the drive, their lights silent as the night sky, that my bindings broke. I bolted through the door, and out of the house. The fresh air tasted of salt and trees sliced at my skin as I tumbled through the woods. I was running blindly, just needing to get away. Away from the house that smelled of her, and the memories of this town. Away from the news and the memories and the people I was leaving behind that would never understand. Away from the people who already did.
Dead. My mother was dead.
...
An invisible boulder dropped down on my chest. I fought to pull in each breath as the grass beneath me began to sway. Agony and unbearable heat poured out from the boy at my feet, a geyser of flame and rage and betrayal. His body was unrecognizable, in the same way mine was. He was too big, too handsome, too superhuman. The boy should be lanky, and he should be grinning his goofy clown smile. But his features were far from amused. They had been contorted into a twisted mirage of hostility towards me and the men at my side. He was fighting; clawing at the sides of the pit dug out for him by his ancestors, wrestling with himself not to let the beast out. He was battling his own bloodstream. He no way to know that if he'd just let go, his torture would end. That he would finally understand his heritage, and the sacred histories few of us ever heard. He'd know why I had abandoned him, and that he didn't need to be afraid. So I did what I'd done that first time, so long ago. A lifetime ago.
I stepped over the high wall between us and into the line of fire.
The moment his eyes sought out my own, I saw the flip happen. He wasn't fighting with the boy he was, or the thing he was becoming. Suddenly, he was battling the friend who hadn't been on his side like he'd promised to always be. I wasn't the brother that had his back, or his cousin. I was the enemy, a target, prey. His tanned skin erupted into caramel fur, darker than my own wolf's, with a faint white glow around his eyes and snout and legs. The overtaking didn't stop with his phase, however, and I swallowed my soul as he gave way to the creature entirely. To my horror, all shreds of Quil were swallowed down by the animal. He willingly shrunk back, turning his back and a blind eye on me by giving it express permission to do whatsoever his wolf decided I deserved. There would be no mercy, because there was no Man. I shuddered into the flesh of my own wolf, warning him to hold back just enough that I might draw Quil out before there was significant damage. I called for him through the pack mind, which was eerily silent, and I doubted even an Alpha's order would reach him.
The chocolate coloured Wolf dove into the air, his paws pressing into my russet shoulders. I let him topple me back, using the momentum to roll over and kick him into the air with my hind legs. He whimpered as he landed, but didn't back down. He lunged for me again, getting the feel for his new lupine form, and snapped his powerful jaws for my throat. I was faster, pinning him with my razor teeth against the back of his neck. I tested my grip, squeezing, and he growled. One of his back paws came up from the dirt to kick at my snout, dislodging me from my position over him. He whirled, sinking first his claws, then his teeth deep into my shoulder. I spun from his grip, using my weight to knock him to the dust yet again. This went on for hours, but he didn't relent, and I had to remind myself several times that he wasn't the enemy. I put weeks worth of restraint to the test, suffocating the primal urge to tear him to pieces for daring to wage this war. Eventually, thoughts trickled through the link as he grew tired, but they were still feral.
'Fuck, Quil, cut it out,' I groaned, irritated at the wounds littering my body. He snarled in response, but I could have sworn I detected a growing sliver of humanity.
Paul's tone was every bit as annoyed as I felt. 'Just tear him a new one already, that'll wake him up.'
The rest of the pack had tried multiple times to intervene, but Quil always slipped through their barriers with effortless fluidity. He was liquid in their grip, in a way none of us could boast to. No wolf with practice was even half as cunning and evasive as Quil was naturally. Even if I could simply overpower him at his most primal, I refused to play my hand. He was my best friend, and, although our falling-out had been unavoidable, he was at least owed a fair chance to take me on.
'No,' I stated firmly.
To my chagrin, even Sam seemed ready to toss in the towel. They were weary of the waiting game. I watched as the debate played through his mind, uncertain over which path was the best to take for the greater good. There was only so long he could allow this to keep up, as it was always a gamble on how much time it would take for a new pup to regain their skin.
'No,' I repeated, leaving no room for argument.
Quil lunged for me again, springing higher into the air this time. His underbelly hit my back, knocking me off-balance. I rolled from underneath him, but he pounced , pinning me with his weight and his paws. I perked my ears dominantly while I awaited his next move. Surprisingly, it didn't come. I watched his ears slick down, and felt his knees begin to bend despite his advantage. The Wolf was submitting, cowering away from my superior scent. In a show of affection, I lapped my tongue over his nose. He flinched back, making a noise that held a striking resemblance to the boy inside the animal.
'Did it seriously just lick my nose?'
The familiarity in the voice sent me rocketing to my feet, pushing the smaller bundle of fur off with ease. I bounced around him playfully, unable to reign in my excitement.
'Quil, can you hear me?' I laughed.
He turned his head side to side, searching for the source. 'Jake?'
Both Jared and I let out a triumphant yip, and Sam chuckled. Quil's coffee coloured eyes narrowed on me. He scrutinized me warily, noting the resemblance between me and my wolf, and his thoughts turned quickly to disbelief.
'That's impossible,' he murmured. I wagged my tail, automatically flashing him images from our tussle. He seemed bewildered, noticing for the first time that he was on four legs. I watched as he backed up frantically, as though he could escape his paws by stepping far enough from them. 'What in the motherfucking hell?!'
Sam's black form inched forwards carefully. 'It's okay Quil,' he urged.
'Okay? I think I'm a fucking dog right now! Who are you? How is any of this okay?'
'Cool it, Ateara,' Paul laughed, slipped down to the grass and resting his head lazily on his paws.
Sam showed rather than told Quil about the legends. He remembered them, we all did, and it hit him like a brick wall. He shivered slightly before collapsing silently to the dirt. His gaze fell further than the invisible horizon, devoid of thought as he struggled to process. It was a lot, and so he was failing miserably.
'This is a dream,' Quil decided, firm in his reasoning. 'People don't turn into wolves, those are just stories.'
'Yeah, well we do,' said Jared, his tone as stale as his mood.
Sam spent the next hour or so explaining the ins and outs of wolfhood, while the rest of us just hung around for moral support. Each of us took our turn phasing before him by way of introduction, getting him used to the idea of placing a muzzle to the voices he suddenly found thinking within his head. We tried to explain the shift to him, and how to fall back into his human form, but nothing seemed to be working. Finally, an exasperated Jared unwittingly offered a new suggestion.
'How come Embry gets out of pup duty,' he whined.
A moment of silence followed as Sam stewed over the words. Quil must have harbored an anger that was too great to allow him to shift, even if it was just in the background.
'That just might work,' I mumbled, more to myself than any of them. Sam nodded, thinking deeply as well.
Embry had been all but forgotten in the chaos of the night, but perhaps if the two made amends Quil would be able to find his flesh again. Sam flicked his eyes in my direction. I nodded, already backing towards Bella's house in search of the one boy who might be able to draw the human out from the newest member of the pack.
...
It took Embry less than ten minutes to coax Quil out of his wolf form. He apologized, swearing on his life that he'd fought the Alpha's order with all he had in him to spill the secret to his best friends. It was accepted without question, but Embry went so far as to replay the day he'd inadvertently tried to trick his wolf by writing a letter and 'accidentally' throwing it in the mailbox. He had failed of course, but the attempt was enough to satisfy the new wolf. Embry led him straight to Emily's, the rest of the pack silently in tow. The hearty aroma of a home-cooked meal was enough to bring us to our furry knees, and upon being told that he could not go inside as a wolf, Quil had found the will to be the Man again. They offered a brief explanation of Emily's scars, reminding him not to stare. Sam promised to lend him a pair of shorts, and he and Jared hurried inside ravenously, hot on Quil's heels. That left just Paul, Embry and myself on the enclosed lawn. Embry had really kept his cool while handling Quil, who wasn't experienced enough to grasp his animal cues just yet. But his irritation had been potent to the rest of us. The slight twitching of his otherwise stiff tail was the first sign, followed closely by the dull hum of his carefully concealed thoughts.
His sharp gaze fell first on Paul, replaying his time with Bella. It was mostly cleaning, with a few moments of lighthearted chatter once she woke up. I could practically feel the relief and adoration pouring from Paul, and it was sickening. Not because I loathed the pairing; I wanted Bella to be happy. But because he'd never so much as given a single shit about her before, and now he was completely awestruck. It felt thoroughly unnatural to me, and I couldn't comprehend it. But all of that was pushed aside as Embry focused on me. He had a glint in his eye, one that reminded me of.. that look. It was his own brand of the mastered art, an expression that had been passed down from tribal elders to each Chief. It was every bit as engulfing and nerve-wracking as my father's was, to the extent that I had no choice but to behave, and tell all my secrets should he ask for them.
'I know that you guys were busy,' he began, his tone even. 'But I saw it play out, and one of you could have clued me in.'
Shit. He was right, of course. Quil's initiation had dragged on far longer than any of ours, and kn top of that, he was Embry's best friend too. We should have considered his worry, and anticipated that he would want to know why his best friend had been triggered so early. But until we had needed him, nobody so much as thought to explain what was taking so long. My shoulders dipped low, ashamed.
'I'm sorry, Em. We'll be better next time, we just got lost in the moment of it.'
It wasn't an excuse so much as it was an explanation, and he seemed to accept it with poise.
'Okay,' he said, nodding. Embry hesitated for a moment more. 'You think he's gonna be okay?'
I smirked as I remembered the resiliently silly nature of Quil Ateara V. Embry smiled softly too. 'Yeah, he's going to be okay. Once the shock wears off, our Quilly's going to be good as new.'
Paul barked a laugh at the nickname, already compiling a healthy handful of comebacks. Just then, Quil ambled outside sporting his first pair of cut-off shorts. He lifted his hands to his mouth, cupping his lips to create a makeshift megaphone.
"EMILY SAYS TO COME AND EAT."
The three of us flinched back. His booming voice reverberated through our superhuman eardrums in a shocking explosion. It seemed to rattle our spines as it echoed over the moonlit arena. We shifted out of our wolves, standing butt naked in Emily Young's yard and covered our bleeding ears.
Paul scowled at the grinning boy on the deck. "Shit, kid. No need to yell, we have super ears remember?"
"Oh I know," replied Quil. "It was just a little payback for you all being dick's this last few weeks."
"You're so dead, Ateara."
Embry launched himself over the rapidly decreasing distance, catching Quil seconds before he could dart back into the safety of the house. The two toppled to the wooden boards of the deck in a tangled mess, and Quil shrieked. This life suited him, maybe more than it did the rest of us. I stepped over the wrestling pair fondly, shaking my head at the familiarity of it all. Everything in this moment was perfectly as it should be, and I basked in its warm glow.
"Damn," Paul groaned mockingly, toeing over them. "I was hoping he'd at least get in a few jokes before anyone killed him."
"You think you want him dead now, wait till you hear his impressions."
"Dear God."
