PLEASE READ! If you read Chapters 4 and 5 before 4/19/2021, then please go back and reread them. Corrections were made and a few things were added, BUT MOST IMPORTANTLY: the end of the last chapter was changed and I don't want anyone to be confused. Reviews encourage me, so I would appreciate any thoughts. Thank you for reading.

Chapter 6

"Not much longer." I lie, not speaking to anyone in particular. Possibly just myself. I yank on the rope in my hand, soliciting a bleat.

Claire hears me and directs a look of annoyance. She knows that I cannot possibly know how much longer we will be traveling. After 6 months of stability, the attack on the night of my Joining began another period of anxiety and uncertainty. Jacob declared that we would be staying, much to the chagrin of the other members of the Pack. Nobody wanted to leave the spot that we had found such a long stint of security, but many believed that remaining there was a mistake. Our camp had been discovered by the beasts and historically, when that happens the tribe becomes a target.

The Alpha and many of the Elders argued that we now had walls surrounding the community, something that we have never had before. It was proposed that the Pack could more easily defend the people when all in one protected area, instead of stretched out in a caravan. Travelling would mean we would have to leave things behind. The missions that the Cullen's had gone on to bring back supplies for the tribe would be futile. The last time we travelled, in hopes of finding another safe location to settle down, there was nearly half of what we have now.

Also, during the periods of movement, casualty rates were exponentially higher. For the people and the animals. Thus, we stayed. A week passed before we were attacked again. Three days after that, a group larger in number than the Pack attacked and one of the beasts broke through our South Wall. Nine were killed.

So here we are. Three weeks into travelling. Whispers from the other Imprints let me know that we have only gone about 40 miles. I keep this to myself and pretend I never had the tickling thought to give up.

Not much longer. One more step. A little farther. Make it through the day.

Rumor has it that we are headed towards the mountains and will be living in caves. Jacob left two days ago with a few of the Cullen's to scout ahead.

Tearing down and packing took nearly a week; all the while fending off attacks. We really had accumulated a lot of stuff over the past six months. As appreciative as I am of the Quiluetes, I may be more so of the Cullens. They have no real ties to us, other than Nessie. Who knows what kind of life they could have made for themselves in this situation, but they stay nearby participating in protecting fragile humans. Despite not even being allowed within the walled compound that they had helped build, the Cullens brought us neccessities and amenities of their own volition. They could leave at anytime. Especially now that Billy Black is gone, Jacob may not fight very hard to stay. Or maybe that is just gossip from a few disgruntled tribe members.

The solution to taking all of our accrued supplies came from the Cullens as well. The tents and various large items were packed into a semi trailer that had six metal skis (three on each side) welded to the bottom of it. The Cullens helped make the plans, find the pieces, bend the metal perfectly, and weld it onto the giant container. Moving it was a whole other issue.

To the Wolves humiliation, they are the only creatures large or strong enough to pull it. When this idea was presented, there was a huge clash within the Pack. Noone wanted to do it and the Alpha voice was utilized. Now, two of them take shifts hooked up to the container by a harness and lead the tribe in our wanderings. When not pulling the trailer, the remainder of the pack keep a protective formation around us. When not on shift pulling or patrolling, they sleep in a covered sleigh pulled by a pair of cows. They are allotted six hours before they are shifting and working again.

The chickens and rabbits are transported in pens that the Quileutte made using sticks and husked bark. These pens are expertly stacked on six separate covered sleighs pulled by the rest of our cows. The sheep and the goats- Oh, the goats, have to walk. These stubborn, loud animals are tied together by the neck and are kept toward the rear of the caravan. With difficulty they are led in a line and herded by a group of people in a similar fashion to the Pack surrounding all of us. The most stubborn ones, the males usually, have seperate leashes and are pulled along by designated people.

I am one of those people.

Pursing my lips, I try to think of how to encourage those around me. Claire is the one who told me how far we have gone and she is having a very difficult time with it. During Quil's sleep shift, she leaves her ward with me and tries to spend as much time as she can with him. Unfortunately for some of the Wolves, most of the Imprints try to do that. The majority try to stay conscious of time and drag themselves away so that their man can sleep, but Claire does not possess that quality and Quil suffers for it. The past few days have been really tough on her, and consequently, him. Yesterday, she could not stop crying and her eyelashes froze.

Her face continues to grow more sour by the second. I attempt to distract her, "Did you ever read the Harry Potter books?" She responds with a side eyed glare, before focusing forward and yanking on her goat. Waiting for a break in the bleating of the animals, I finally say, "Did you watched the movies?" Sometimes we described plots of books and movies to each other to pass the time. It entertains us and keeps the stories fresh in our minds. In time, through the generations, some stories will be lost forever.

With an exagerrated eyeroll Claire responds tightly, " I don't feel like talking right now." She does not look my way. Not only is she making Quil's days difficult, she is beginning to weigh me down. Childishly, in my own frustration, I decide to annoy her even more. A little payback for her rudeness. We are close in age and formed an easy friendship years ago, so I know exactly how to push her buttons. Innocently, I begin to hum. From my peripherals, I notice her nostrils flaring. Selfish satisfaction spreads in my lower abdomen. I realize I am picking a fight but do not stop.

Claire looks over at me multiple times with an obviously angry face but she is ignored. I am only humming after all. As her patience runs thin, and right before I feel as if she is about to burst, I catch one of the Wolves looking at me. It is Quil. His eyes plead with me. My face flushes from being caught. I avert my eyes and halt my noises. All of the pack on shift just saw that interaction. Including Paul. I walk in silence the rest of the evening.

One foot in front of the other. Make it to dinner. Almost there.

The call is made. It is time to stop for the night. The covered sleighs and the semi trailer are circled loosely. The animals are kept in the center. As many hammocks as we can fit are slung between the sleighs. This is our way of keeping the goats, sheep, and cows in and it acts as an effective alert system for when they try to wander away. Around this is a perimeter consisting of small cold weather sleeping tents. Most of them fit only two people. A teepee is erected and a fire is started in it. This is where the food is cooked, and the fire will be kept burning all night. The children and elderly are encouraed to sleep in this space, but everyone is welcome to stop in at times if they get too cold. The Wolves run patrol throughout the night and ensure that any animal that escapes is returned.

While the community prepares the area for the night, Emily starts dinner. A few rabbits are slaughtered for a stew with carrots, potatoes, and turnips. The aroma wafts through the air; my stomach rumbles. Though we do not cover a lot of distance very quickly, we continuously move and are consistently on our feet. The tribe eats twice a day, breakfast and dinner. The Pack, however, consumes as often as they need. At the encampment, there was a storage full of jerky and now it is exclusively eaten by the shapeshifters. Feeding the animals is the hardest. The chickens can mostly sustain off of our scraps, but the other animals need a steady input of grains and vegetables. We ration them, but it affects their output as well. Eventually, we will not be able to sustain if we do not start growing again.

The Wolves shift down one by one to be served first. Not three minutes pass between the food hitting their plates and the next person lining up to eat. The portions are small, but the speed at which they inhale the food is impressive nonetheless. As soon as the last member of the Pack eats, usually Sam, the rest of the community lines up. First, is the children. Then, the elderly, the women, and lastly the rest of the men. The stew is watery. I get one cube of rabbit meat, the equivalent of a fourth of a potato, half a turnip, and half a carrot. I long for bread, but give thanks for what is in front of me.

I stand against the large metal container. The wind is whipping and the trailer is positioned strategically to block as much from the harsh element as possible. The teepee's walls indent in on the side of the wind current and the sleep tents flap violently, but none blow away. Janie comes to stand next to me. She is clutching her bowl closely. Similarly, we both have one glove off; the one holding the warm bowl.

Slowly we sip the broth, savoring it. Past the sleighs I can see hills blanketed with evergreens. Though I do not possess an astute sense of direction, I know that the sun sets in the West. The setting sun is to my left, so I must be looking South. I have been trying to make sense of where we are going and from what I have gathered, I think we are headed SouthWest. The gossip about living in caves lines up with my assumption, as the Rocky Mountains should be this way. However, rocky peaks create depth to the blue sky all around us, fueling my uncertainty. We tend to stay out in the open, as it is easier to move and harder for things to sneak up on us. The paths we take are scarcely littered with trees and we avoid them the best we can.

Finishing our dinner allows for conversation. Janie is most often in the middle of the caravan formation, so I do not usually see her until this time of day. She walks with Dad and they both pull a pulk sled. His is much longer and contains our family's clothing, tents, and the larger items we did not leave behind. Janie pulls everything else; mostly just pillows, blankets, the cat, and sleeping bags. All our family of four (including Sarah) owns is on our backs and in these two sleds. Sarah, of course, walks back with the ovine and bovine near me. She sticks with the larger herd, but I see her often.

She and Dad are eating in their tent tonight. Janie and I share the one right next to theirs. Sadly, nothing blocks our sleep situations and we will be subject to the wind tonight. It will be loud and cold. As if reading my mind, Janie says, "Mona asked if I could stay in her tent tonight." She speaks over the wind.

I raise my eyebrows in surprise, "Really?"

"She invited me and Cara."

I whisper under my breath, "Cara and me." That is my mother in me.

If she hears me she does not let on. "We are going to have a sleep over. Mona has some nail polish and we are going to give each other manis and pedis." Janie squeals and her excitement takes over her features. She leans in closer, speaking faster, "She won't tell us the colors because she wants to surprise us. I'm really hoping one is lavender. I'll do my fingers that color. Maybe a blue for my toenails. Or a darker purple to be matchy." As she rambles on, her enthusiasm seeps into me. I wish I had been invited. Of course, I am older than them and not in their little friend group, but I wish I could do things like that. Forget all the crazy and just be normal and girly. I smile as she goes on and listen intently, asking questions and giving suggestions. I offer her my tweezers so they can do eyebrows as well.

Abruptly Janie becomes serious. She grips my arm, "You don't mind, do you? I don't want to leave you alone." The thought has already crossed my mind. I am going to be even colder than I expected.

I answer without hesitation, "No! Of course not. I'm so happy for you." She beams. I confess, "I might be a little jealous too."

"Oh," surprise and realization flash in her eyes, "I can ask if you can come."

Yes please. "No, no. I'll be fine. I'm pretty tired anyway."

"Oh, ok. Are you sure?"

No. "Definitely. I'm so excited for you though."

She grabs my arm again, but she searches the area on tip toes until she finds her friends. They beckon her, "Oh, I'm going to go." Janie walks away beaming. "I love you." She throws over her shoulder.

"I love you too."

A scratching sound on the side of my tent yanks me from my slumber. Dad's voice follows, "Time to get up." Last night was cold and I remember waking up a few times shivering. My dreams were incoherent and I feel as if I had balanced on the fence between awake and asleep. Just hearing my dad and knowing what awaits me, stirs anger in my chest. I am grumpy. In this world, that does not change anything. So I begin my day.

In the past, I would have been grossed out about using a bucket as a toilet, but I relieve myself without much thought. I argue with Claire in my mind as I wipe down and dress. I am impatient when tying my makeshift snowshoes to my snow boots, and have to start over. Twice. The imagined conversations become more violent as I pack up my tent. The wind is blowing harder than it had in the night. I move quickly and leave my belongings with Dad. Trudging toward the breakfast line, I spot Diddy, my goat. He is among the large group of animals, but as I walk past he is unmistakable. He looks me dead in the eye and huffs. I respond with a sneer. He does not seem very happy either. Today is not going to be a good day.

During breakfast, my confrontational thoughts are no longer directed at Claire, but Diddy. I swear, if fights me today. OOO! Just you wait, goat.

With food in my stomach, my frustrations subside slightly. Tiredness still remains, but I can think more clearly. I cease my complaints and ficticious arguements and look to the sky. Shades of grey. Not a wink of blue poking through anywhere. Today's forecast: cloudy with a chance of a breakdown.

Sighing, I search for the good things. Breakfast. Leftover stew... Closing my eyes, I try to push all negativity out with my breath. I'm alive. My family is alive. Clothes, food, community. I can sleep better tonight. It's been three days since we even saw a beast.

With that, I try to start over. Janie greets me as I open my eyes. Her joy is infectious and my mood is nearly cured. She describes her night and shows off her fingernails. Pink. There was no purple. She tells me her toes are painted red. There were only two colors. She whispers about crushes, but refuses to share names or many details. I find myself smiling. Today is not too bad I guess. I say a prayer and push on.

Diddy is as troublesome as I had predicted. He does his best to undo all of the emotional hard work I put in this morning. I last a few hours before I stoop to mumbling threats on his life. "I'll do it. I swear. I'll eat you."

A commotion up front halts all movement. The reaction of the Wolves is what unsettles me. They all seem to flock toward it, but most get sent back to their positions to ensure security. Anxiety builds in me. What if something is wrong with Janie or Dad? I search for Sarah. I recognize her jacket and the way she moves. She too is straining her neck in an effort to see what is happening. I doubt she can see anything more than I can. We are too far back. Our eyes meet once and we acknowledge each other with a nod. It takes about thirty minutes for the news to travel to where we are. Old Quil is sick. Possibly dying.

My breath catches and I cannot speak. Claire leaves me with her goat and rushes to him. Memories of him play in my mind. Most vibrant are the ones from Paul and my Joining day. I remember his words. He had urged me to use my voice, to not be afraid. He spoke of my strengths and gave me confidence. I think of his wrinkled face, clear authoritative voice, his strong hands, the stories and history he knew and shared, .

Gossip travels faster the second time. He passed with his family by his side.

The sun is just slightly past highnoon when we begin to circle and create the small camp. I do not know the exact distance we travelled today, but I am sure that when looking back I can still see the area we stopped last night. We set up as usual, but Emily does not start cooking. It is too early. I struggle to stake down my tent because of the wind and Dad helps me.

"You ok?" He asks. He never quite understood everything about the Pack and the Imprinting and he avoided talking about it or acknowledging it, but he always supported me and I knew that he was also grateful for these people.

I sigh deeply, "Yeah. I'm ok." I had lost people closer to me. Despite the love I have for this people, Old Quil included, I was not wrecked. My heart ached for his family and those that loved him. Their grief, I know it all too well. Gloom glazes my thoughts knowing an integral member of the tribe is gone and things will never truly be the same without him. I answer honestly again, "It's sad though."

He nods. "You can talk to me if you need to." I looked into his blue eyes, examined his bearded face, and smiled.

"Thanks Dad. I love you."

"Love you too, J."

Not a lot of information is passed on. Tasks are not put out, it is as if we are in limbo. My tent looks so inviting and I long to climb in, yet I do not want to be inconsiderate. Standing outside of it, I watch the Quiluette people move about. Their feet drag and more than one wipes their face. Even from a distance, I can tell they have been crying. Once more, I feel like an outsider looking in. Dad and Sarah slip into their yellow tent and Janie is off with her friends. Accepting that there is not anything I can do, and not knowing what is expected of me, I give in and go inside. I regret not doing this sooner; I have wind burn on my cheeks. I remove my snowshoes, but leave on my boots. I want to be ready if something happens. Stepping outside of the norm is making me anxious and I will not feel comfortable until after dinner.

Once again, a scratch wakes me. Panic strikes me as I am unable to see. I am in complete darkness. My eyes have not adjusted. Another scratch.

Regaining my wits along with my eyesight I croak, "Yes?"

A smooth unmistakeable voice, "Uh, it's me." Paul. A long silence as I think of how to respond. I am surprised and still groggy. Not a good combination. "It's Paul." I sense disapointment. Does he think I did not recognize him?

"I, uh, I know." I sit up and sidle up to the tent door on my knees. My fingers grasp the zipper, but I do not move. "Is everything ok?"

"Quil died."

"Yeah, I know. I heard." I respond slowly. "I'm really sorry." There is no response. I wonder if he has left. "Paul?" I say cautiously, low enough that a human would not have heard it over the wind.

The man answers gruffly; his voice is a little thick, "Yeah?"

Not knowing what else to say, I simply use, "I'm sorry."

Paul clears his throat, "I have your dinner." He noticed I did not eat? I do not know why I am surprised.

"Oh. Um..." Quickly I unzip the door. The illumination from the moon is almost nonexistant, he is just a silhouette.

Paul crouches down. I assume he has extended his hand with my bowl. Reaching out, I feel the air until I feel skin. Is he not wearing a shirt? I recognize it as his forearm, and feel the strength and warmth of it. Involuntarily, my body reacts. I feel a twitch between my legs and my lower abdomen tightens. Blood rushes to my face and as quickly as I can, I find the bowl. To take it, my hand must remain on the back of his for a second. The painstaking awkwardness makes me want to disapear. He cannot leave fast enough. Instead, he asks, "Can I come in?" May I.

I know he can see me and I blush harder. Not this again. "Sure." I answer to my own dismay. Holding the bowl level, I crawl back onto my sleeping bag. After he enters, he zips the tent back up. His dark figure settles to the right of me, where Janie sleeps. She clearly is not here. Unwilling to make converstation, I bring my bowl under my chin and slowly shovel in the food. The broth has cooled and is not as satisfying, but as it reaches my stomach I feel instant relief. I did not even feel hungry until this moment.

Even in the dark I can feel Paul watching me. I do not allow myself to stare but I do recognize that he has a T-shirt, long pants, and boots on. A loud gurgle comes from his side of the tent. I stop and ask, "Are you hungry? Do you want some?"

He clears his throat again, "No. I'm fine."

Suspicion and guilt flood me, "This isn't your food, is it?"

"No." He responds simply.

With disbelief I press, "Are you lying?"

Annoyance laces his tone, "No." I look in his direction and frown. "Do you think I would lie to you?" Paul's tone is different again, possibly disapointment or sadness.

I pause for a second, choosing my words. "To make sure I ate... Yes."

He nods. "You're right, but I'm not. I had my own bowl."

I place the unfinished stew down between us. Furrowing my brow, I inquire timidly, "Was it peaceful?"

"Yeah." He says. "He went really quick." This is another time I think he would lie to me, but it is the answer I wanted so I do not question him.

We sit in silence for a while. It is mostly comfortable. I finish my bowl of cold stew. Paul speaks first, "I don't have patrol again until the morning."

"Yeah?"

"Sam made a few schedule tweaks. He's trying to let us get more sleep. We haven't seen any creatures lately and he thinks we can stay here for another day." I raise my eyebrows at this. That sounds heavenly. He continues, "Jake is on his way back. They found a place about 50 miles from here."

Information. Rarely am I privy to it right from the source. I know that Jacob is communicating with them through the shared pack mind. Intrigued, I ask, "Will we be living in caves?" It is the rumor.

Paul scoffs, "No. Well, not entirely." I lean in, curious. "He found a place up against a cliff. We'll use it to our advantage and if there are caves I'm sure we will utilize them." He flashes his winning smile. Wow. Even though I cannot fully make out the rest of his features, his bright teeth shine. "It's actually a resort."

Disbelief coats my words, "What? A resort?" My lips twitch in response to his smile and the electricity building in the tent.

The serious man gives a short genuine laugh and the information bubbles from him, "Yeah, it's some mountain resort. A huge main cabin with fireplaces and wood stoves. Plus, a bunch of individual cabins."

Overjoyed, I swallow a lump in my throat. My eyes become hot. "Really?" Is all I can ask. I cover my smile with my hand. "Really?" I repeat. "When did they find it?"

"This evening, right before dinner." His tone became solemn again, remembering himself. "Quil won't get to see it." A switch flips and the electric current is shut off. I breathe deeply and look down. No, he never will. Realizing this shift in mood, Paul changes the subject back and elaborates, "Most of the cabins are under snow. They had to dig a little to even get into the main one. We'll have to put in a lot of work. Digging everything out and fortifying the place, but it should be good. We should be able to stay. We'll fight to stay."

My smile returns and my chest swells. This is the hope we need. "Thank you for telling me." I say sincerely.

"Anytime." After a brief pause he says, "Your, uh, sister is sleeping in her friend's tent again." How does he know so much? Eyes and ears everywhere. It has always been this way. He keeps tabs on me just like the other guys do with their Imprints. They all help each other too.

"Oh?"

Confident Paul stumbles as he quickly asks, "Would it be ok if I- if I stayed here?" A sickly feeling washes over me. I wish he had not asked that. I wish he had not ruined the moment. I feel as if every answer is the wrong one. Either wrong for him or me. After a few moments without a reply, Paul says, "I'll sleep over here."

Though outside of my comfort zone, I accept, "Sure." I quickly add, "I'm pretty tired though, so I'm going to lay down now." Sleep will afford me with the opportunity to avoid any more awkwardness.

He replies, "Yeah, yeah. Of course. So am I." Paul and I have not spoken this much in what feels like years. I can barely remember the last time I saw him smile, really smile. Yet here he is, grinning. Baring teeth so white I can see them in the dark. Uncontrollable, contentment fills my soul. I look away and focus on getting ready for bed.

I remove my boots. The majority of my other clothes I take off under the covers and then lay them at the end of my bag. I give Paul one of my top blankets. My mind swirls with thoughts about the resort, Old Quil, Paul's smile.

Wind rustles the tent, but tonight I am warm. After all, I have my own personal space heater.

This one was super long. Maybe too long. Hope you enjoyed. Please drop a review. Thanks again.