A/N: This out of the blue update has been sponsored by a perforated eardrum (mine) and the sheer determination of this story's unfailing beta (aka our girl, H). Merry December xoxoxoxo

thirty-nine.

(Jacob)

Jacob's private fears — Leah veering off the road, unable to control the car one-handed, ending up in a ditch somewhere along the 101, dead — are allayed the second he hears the Rabbit's engine approaching. His first thought is that he needs to spend a day with his head underneath the hood because the timing belt sounds a little off. The second is a fleeting but hopeful wish for the evening to pass quickly, ending with Leah at his side. The third is his regret that Embry ever extended an invitation to Bella.

After last weekend, he's spent the week unsure if he still wants to be friends with her anymore — or even if she still wants to be friends with him. Hearing that her plans to be turned into his mortal enemy after her graduation have apparently solidified seems to have helped make his decision — because surely it will be impossible to maintain any kind of relationship when she has red eyes and wants to devour Charlie (or, God forbid, Leah) — although it appears that Bella has made a different decision entirely.

It's as if she has forgotten all about the last time they saw one another. His friend (ex-friend?) bounds down the sandy banks of First Beach, barreling towards him with a grin on her face that stretches from ear to ear as she calls his name. She even manages to make it all the way over to where he is sitting on the log bench with his brothers without stumbling. That is until the last five yards or so, anyway, when she inevitably trips over her own feet. It is only owing to muscle memory (because it's Bella, after all), or perhaps their innately superior reaction times, that Quil's hands shoot out to catch her just in time.

"Wow. Thanks." She is a little dazed as she looks up, hands gripping her saviour, although Jacob thinks that he sees a flash of disappointment in her wide brown eyes as she registers who exactly it is that she clings to. "Oh hey, Quil."

"Hey, vampire girl. I see you survived," he teases easily. "We all took bets on if you'd—"

Embry nudges Quil with his elbow, a little too forcefully for it to go unnoticed by anyone else — least of all Bella, whose gaze narrows suspiciously when Quil takes the hint and very quickly snaps his mouth closed again.

"If I'd what?" she presses, straightening defiantly.

"Be allowed to come," Jacob says quickly. He's not about to tell her about Quil attempting to earn some quick cash based on whether she'd arrive in one piece or not. Particularly not when it's his girlfriend's name on the line.

(Paul had been so sure Bella would turn up in tears and practically on her knees, begging for someone else to drive her home, that he'd put down fifteen whole bucks. That was if Leah allowed her to make it as far as La Push, of course, a caveat that Quil had wholeheartedly endorsed.)

"Of course I'd be allowed," she replies, perhaps a little too defensively for them to believe that her accepting Embry's invitation didn't require her bloodsucker to be thoroughly convinced. She turns back to Jacob, her disapproval clear for all to see. "Where were you?"

He doesn't have to ask what she means. He shrugs. "Leah offered."

"Where'd she get to, anyway?" Embry asks. He hasn't quite recovered from the mishap in the Swan's kitchen earlier this afternoon — nor the subsequent visit to the clinic — and Jacob isn't entirely ignorant to the fact that the pair of them haven't been alone yet. Likely because Embry fears there will be yet more blood spilt, which of course means that he is totally going to go completely overboard with Protection Duty over the next few days to make sure nothing else happens to Leah on his watch.

"I don't know . . ." Bella makes a show of looking around as if Leah's absence has surprised her. "She was right behind me."

Embry tilts his head, considering. "Did you kill her?" he asks then, entirely straight-faced.

Although Quil laughs, Jacob knows from the tightness in Embry's shoulders that the question is not entirely a jibe, and he can't help but throw a worried glance over the dunes where Bella first appeared. He feels as if he is forever toeing that dangerous line between reasonable sanity and unreasonable insanity: one part of him knows that Leah is alive, of course she is, yet the other part of him — the animal part of him — wills his legs to move so he can see that for himself.

Jacob leashes his irrational wolf and plants his feet. Leah will not thank him for hovering.

Beside him, Bella tucks her hair behind an ear, suddenly nervous to the point that she is barely able to look at any of them in the face. "We just talked, that's all. She's . . . intimidating."

"She's a pussycat, really," Quil says cheerfully, his laughter only getting louder — likely buoyed by the fact he's up fifteen bucks and has more money coming, because Bella's not shed a single tear yet and isn't showing any signs of trauma from being left alone with Leah for nearly half an hour. Jacob estimates at least twenty-five dollars going into his friend's pocket by the end of the night.

Bella gives a tight, polite smile as if she doesn't believe it but isn't willing to argue the point. Not in front of Jacob, anyway, who is now both wondering where his girlfriend has gotten to and dying to know what she talked to Bella about. That, and trying to stop himself from seeking her out.

"Don't let Leah hear you say that," he says, dragging his eyes back to the group. His girl throws punches for those kinds of comments. Anyone would be better off calling her feral — at least they would have a better chance of surviving, then. The most they'd be in danger of would be a wicked smile.

Quil rolls his eyes, waving a dismissive hand. "I'm not scared of her." His voice is steady, but everyone recognises the flagrant lie.

"Come on Bella." Embry assumes the responsibility of steering her towards the group, which Jacob suspects is so Quil can't assume the task and leave them alone together. "Come sit down and say hi to everyone."

The girl looks worried, but she allows herself to be ushered away. Meanwhile, Quil is left to push Jacob towards the bonfire, who is too busy looking over his shoulder to pay his friend's persistent nudging any attention.

Go, stay. Stay, go.

It's a no brainer. He goes. Fuck his irrational wolf. It's not exactly as if he wants to be here anyway. If Leah's found something better to do, then he wants in on it.

Quil is too fast, all but grabbing him by the scruff of his neck a second before he manages to dart out of reach and head towards the sandy banks. "Oh no you don't. Leave her be, man."

Even with two or three inches of height advantage, it is surprisingly difficult to shake Quil loose. Seems someone has been working out.

"When you imprint," he growls, "I'll remind you of this, and you'll—"

Quil chuffs a laugh, his grip unyielding. "God, I hope not. I don't want to turn into a complete sap, thanks."

"I'm not a sap, you bast—" he starts to protest, even though he knows he kind of is where Leah is concerned and that she would be the first to say so.

"Oh, shut up. Stop struggling. She'll come when she's ready, alright? Y'really think chauffeuring your sort-of ex-girlfriend up here was on her bucket list? Give her a minute to recover."

"What? She offered! You laughed at her!"

"Yeah, so did you. It was funny. But we all knew she was offering just so you didn't have to do it," he says, and Jacob freezes at that. He's still frozen as Quil sighs and pushes him away. "Well, Em and I did, anyway. Jeez. You used to be smart, dude."

Huh.

"Hang on, you haven't got a bet on whether she actually turns up, have you?" Jacob asks suspiciously.

"No, but that's a good one," Quil says, suddenly thoughtful. "Ten bucks she disappears and we find her holed up studying somewhere. Who'd be stupid enough take it, y'think? . . . Hey, Jared!" he yells. "Come here!"

The bonfire is in full swing by the time Jacob and Quil eventually meander over. Bella is still working her way around the Pack in Embry's shadow, greeting his brothers with all the enthusiasm that only a totally oblivious person could muster. Emily seems the most pleased to have her in their company; in contrast, Paul is the only person who doesn't stand to greet her, opting instead to make a show of flapping his hand back and forth in front of his face.

"Keep the bloodsucker stench downwind, will you?"

Other than that, Jacob is surprised to see that, despite everything, she's (mostly) treated like someone who belongs. Of course, Sam still seems a little upset with her, considering that she welcomed the Cullens back into her life so quickly, but then again Sam is upset about a lot of things lately so Jacob doesn't dwell on that too much. Besides, it's not just Sam — although they appear to have moved on from it, the whole Pack felt varying levels of betrayal when Bella ditched them as soon as the bloodsuckers returned from Edward's failed suicide mission.

To his credit, not even Billy treats her any differently than he usually would when she nervously waves at him (likely cowed by all her relentless phone calls that he had to answer before she was told about the imprint), although that may be because the old man is a little preoccupied with grumbling about this afternoon's Mariners game against the Texas Rangers which they lost. They're set to lose the next two games, too, if they're all being honest, but of course nobody says that to his face.

It's not until Bella finally sits on the ground beside Emily that Leah finally crests the dunes, and Jacob knows he is not the only one on the beach who lets loose a sigh of relief. Her expression is as enigmatic as ever, skin gilded with the last rays of the summer sun, and it requires actual physical effort to abstain from running to her in a pathetic show of imprint-infused adoration.

Sue, who had been particularly unimpressed to learn that her only daughter was driving to Forks and back with an injury that's barely begun to heal, looks as if she is ready to deliver both a stern lecture and a tight hug. Even Sam's stormy expression seems to soften a fraction (much to Jacob's eternal chagrin), although his eyebrows quickly knit together again once he spots the bandage she is sporting on the hand she holds close to her chest. It seems that not even a first-hand replay from Embry has been able to prepare him for seeing the after-effects in the flesh.

Jacob feels Sam's gaze before he notices it, and he turns slowly to face his stare. The indisputable accusation in his Alpha's eyes is clear, the silent question as loud as it would have been if he'd roared it across the fire: What the hell were you thinking, letting her drive?

Leah would answer by saying that nobody lets her do anything. Jacob answers by shrugging, knowing that it will infuriate him. Unfortunately for Sam, the Alpha inside is powerless to act upon his ire, not unless he wants to be having an awkward conversation with Emily later tonight.

Sam turns his back on him. Maybe it's not a conversation he'll be having with Emily, but Jacob has a feeling that it'll be a conversation they will be having before long.

Not that Sam will care for his rationale.

In truth, he had stopped himself from voicing his reservations about Leah going all the way to Forks for the second time in a matter of hours. Not because she was going to be alone with Bella and . . . things . . . were undoubtedly going to be said (because Leah has never been known to keep her thoughts to herself), but because the imprint had felt frayed enough with everything that's gone on today alone. He might not have considered her true motive (according to Quil, anyway), but he had known that another misstep between them was all that was needed for him to regress into the same nervous wreck he'd been in that first week after imprinting. Leah would surely run away screaming — for good this time — and he wouldn't be able to hold it against her. So he'd bitten his tongue and watched her go, fighting to ignore the miasma building in his belly.

Now, when their eyes meet, the bond between them feels almost tangible; it tugs on his every breath, yanking impatiently as it yearns to reunite them despite only being separated for a little over an hour, and he wonders whether she is fighting as hard as he is to keep her cool after the long day they've had. So much for taking Memorial Day to rest and spend time together. Tomorrow she'll be back at school, he'll be back on patrol, and within the week she'll be starting her finals. They're hardly going to get a minute to themselves.

Leah bestows him a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes, one of understanding, and it doesn't take long for their feet to carry them towards each other.

Jacob stops himself short, raking his eyes over her form just as hers rove over his, and it feels as if they spend an age scanning each other for any sign of change, injury, or otherwise. He has a million questions building in his throat and wants nothing more than to pull her against him, but the thick bandage around her hand and the unnaturally subdued look in her eyes make him hesitate. He can't blame her if she is wary of him. It wasn't too long ago that he was losing his temper and shedding his skin, after all.

He knows there is very little that frightens her these days, but that side of him is still something that she has rarely ever seen. And aside from apologising to one another, they hadn't had too much time to recover from it before Embry and Quil had been barging their way into the garage — not enough time to determine whether things have changed between them. They've bickered before, sure, but today is the first time he's had to leave to phase out of anger — to actually put distance between them. It's usually the opposite way around — she's always the one who's calming him down, the only one who can soothe the wolf when it rises to the surface.

A new smile plays at the corners of Leah's mouth as she watches him, quiet and dry. "Guess the honeymoon period is well and truly over, huh?"

As always, he is unsurprised that she can read him so easily, that she understands the concern he is trying so desperately to hide. Sometimes it makes him wonder if Leah has a direct line to his thoughts, navigating the valleys of his brain just as adeptly as his brothers. She calls it her sixth sense, or her freaky radar — if she is in a particularly jovial mood. Personally, he'd settle for it just being freaky, the way they understand each other.

"They do say the first year is the hardest," he tells her solemnly.

Leah bites down on her amusement, pushing her hair away from her face with her good hand. "Isn't that meant to be about marriage?"

"Are you proposing?" he asks, and he grins triumphantly when it elicits the same kind of laughter from her that he was seeking. Maybe things haven't changed that much after all.

"Shut up," she scoffs. "Come here."

He doesn't need telling twice. He all but falls into her, or perhaps she falls into him; he can't tell. He only has the presence of mind to make sure that he doesn't crush her injured hand as he gathers her close, not caring that the whole Pack or the Council or even Bella are probably watching. It wouldn't be the first time, or the first bonfire they've begun this way.

Leah presses her cheek against his chest and draws a deep shuddering breath, instantly relaxing, and he tightens his arms around her in response. She is the perfect height for him to comfortably rest his chin atop her head.

"Are you okay? Are you in pain?"

"Some. Nothing I can't handle," she mumbles, stubborn as ever. She presses her bandage against his back, pulling herself even closer as if to prove a point. But she can't fool him.

Guilt starts to work its way back in, and he holds her as tight as he dares. "I should have gone with you."

"That would have defeated the whole point," she says, all but confirming what Quil told him about her reasoning for going. It still stuns him a bit stupid that she would go to such lengths for him — that she has and will go to such lengths. These are the things that he is meant to be doing for her. "Besides, I wanted to talk to her. Did she say anything?"

"Only that you're intimidating."

"Good." Leah's tone sounds as equally proud as it does pleased. "She said as much in the car, but I thought that she might have been playing it up a bit to get into my good graces. She thinks you want us to be friends."

That new detail throws him off for a second. "Is that something you want?" he asks carefully, but her snort is a touch too scornful, revealing all he needs to know. "I thought so. Me neither. In fact I'm pretty sure I can't think of anything that would be weirder. Or more awkward."

"Thank God. For a second, I wondered if I might have to start playing house."

They share a quiet chuckle. Although the idea is somewhat . . . intriguing, to see what kind of friends they would be, what kind of relationship they would have, it's not something Jacob is entirely convinced would work out when Bella's life has an expiration date.

"S'pose we better go and sit down," Leah mumbles a few minutes later, when they both finally feel somewhat normal again and the thing that binds them is feeling a little less taut.

"Yeah. Probably," he agrees, peering down at her. "You wanna go say hi to everyone first?"

Leah screws her face up, hand fisting in the back of his shirt. "Not really. Today has just been . . ."

She has no word for the end of that sentence, but whatever it might have been, he would have agreed. "I know."

She sighs. "Can we just go home?"

"Whatever you want, honey." She always has the best ideas, but he knows better than to tell her this, or else he'll have to live with her shit-eating smirk for the next few days. "One of the guys can drive Bella back; they won't mind."

"Ugh. I almost forgot about her. I promised her bloodsucker we'd have her back by eleven."

"She has legs, doesn't she?" he grumbles into her hair, feeling petulant all of a sudden. Toying with the idea of going home and potentially climbing into bed with her, only to have it taken away from him in the same breath may have something to do with it.

Leah laughs as she reluctantly pulls away, taking her sweet time. She puts her game face on and wraps her good hand around his, straightening her shoulders.

"Come on then. Let's get this over with."

Six hotdogs, a bag of supersized chips and two litres of root beer later, Jacob is finally relaxed enough that he doesn't scowl when Bella predictably finds her way back to his side.

She scoots close enough that he doesn't have to look to know Leah's gaze has sharpened with displeasure from where she's squished between Paul and Embry (he can sense it) — they're debating the merits of pineapple on pizza, with Collin and Brady chipping in their two cents whenever they can get a word in edgeways (or at least, Brady is; Collin is too busy staring at Leah, mouth agape in something like awe — or maybe that's just owing to the fact the kid has the biggest crush on her known to man; he can never string a full sentence together when she's within ten feet of him. The only reason Jacob hasn't injured him is because the kid is thirteen-years-old, as clueless as he is harmless. He also happens to be his first cousin). Sam, Jared and Quil are sitting with the elders, locked in a discussion about something or other — nobody has a chance of eavesdropping over Leah and Paul yelling animatedly at one another about the yellow fruit (although if the looks on Emily and Kim's faces are anything to go by, who are practically wrapped unashamedly around their wolves, Jacob is willing to guess it's a rather explicit conversation about how close they have been to catching and decimating the redhead).

"You grew again," Bella accuses lightly, drawing his attention. It's a poor conversation starter, even by her standards.

Although they are sitting, Jacob has to look down to see her face properly. She seems strikingly pale underneath the waxing crescent moon, more so than usual. Smaller, too; he noticed earlier that her head doesn't even reach his shoulder these days, although she seems to have gained back the depression weight she had lost over winter. She doesn't look like a strong wind might knock her over anymore, and the gaunt look she'd adopted whilst her darling tick family were God-knows-where has almost completely faded.

Jacob harrumphs loudly around his seventh hot dog, stomach close to bursting. "Guess I did."

Bella mistakes gluttony for hostility and shifts nervously. "Are you okay?"

He's aware of what she is asking — they haven't seen one another since he told her about the imprint, after all, when anything that could have been between them was shattered with such finality — but right now he is more concerned that he's not going to finish his seventh hotdog. Maybe if he ditches the bread . . .

"Jake?"

He groans. "I'm so full that I'm about to puke."

An empty bottle of root beer hits the side of his temple, and he lazily turns his head to see Seth close by, who is sprawled out after eating his body mass. "My dad used to say all pigs sleep after they eat."

"Explains why he and Billy were always snoring before our moms could make them do the dishes," Jacob responds, and the grin he cracks is easily mimicked by Seth — way easier than it would have been six weeks ago.

Bella sits forward, the smile on her face not as easy — nervous, even, as she edges her way into the conversation so as not to be forgotten. "Charlie's the same."

Seth smiles good-naturedly. "Just wait 'til my mom cracks Dad's fish fry recipe. You'll never be able to wake him then," he says, stretching long and wide with a yawn to match. "Man, I gotta get up or I'll be the one asleep. D'ya think I should go defend my sister against Paul before they kill each other?"

"Sounds like she's doing just fine," Jacob laughs. "It's Paul you should be worried about. Maybe go and make sure she hasn't made him cry or something, or else we'll never hear the end of it."

"Good idea."

Seth sluggishly pulls himself to his feet and lopes over to the other side of the fire, leaving Jacob to his full stomach and a quiet Bella, whose eyes he can feel watching him. She's probably chewing on her lip in apprehension, maybe even flushed red as the last time they were left alone together springs to mind.

If she's expecting him to apologise, then she'll be waiting a long time. Luckily, he's not holding his breath for an apology from her, either. He'd just rather forget the whole thing and carry on with the pretence the last few weeks haven't happened.

The silence between them ticks on for a few minutes, during which Jacob begins a fight against his eyelids which are starting to droop (pigs indeed) when Bella finds her voice.

"Did Jared imprint on Kim?"

"Huh?" is all he can reply because it's not what he'd been expecting her to say — or even that she was going to be brave enough to say anything at all. He lifts his head, following Bella's line of sight. She is studying Jared and Kim with thinly-veiled interest; his own is brief, quickly returning to watching Leah. "Oh, yeah. They're a bit obvious about it."

"I'll say," she mutters. "What about Sam and Emily?"

"Yep. Imprinted. Thought you would have figured that out with all the time you spent around them before — well, you know. Before Italy."

"I just thought they were really in love," Bella tells him, embarrassed.

"If only it was as straight-forward as that," he scoffs over the crackling fire, unable to stop it from sounding completely derisive, or at least, even enough to cover the underlying bite to his words. Then again, he doesn't think anyone would have been able to miss it — it's not an easy thing to hide, not where Sam is concerned.

"What do you mean?"

He shakes his head. "It's complicated. And not exactly something I want to explain where everyone can hear. They won't thank me for it."

(Plus, Sam looks a heartbeat away from killing him still, and it's plain to see that he's hardly thrilled that Bella's hanging around again. It's no secret that he had kind of been counting on their shared hatred for the Cullens, thinking that she was the one person in the world with as much reason to hate the Cullens as he did. It is an understatement to say that Bella accepting them back into her life as if they'd never hurt her has not only been a kick in the teeth for Jacob, but also to their longest-serving Pack member, too — especially when Sam had been the one to find her in the forest. It's a wonder any of them are managing to treat her normally.)

"Okay." She sounds disappointed but, surprisingly, somewhat understanding. "Tell me later, then."

"Maybe," he says, looking over at her cautiously. "It's not really my story to tell."

It doesn't shake her determination. "I want to understand imprinting better. I mean, I didn't really . . . We didn't talk about it much last time," she says quietly, ducking her head to hide her cheeks that are deepening with colour because she knows she is as much to blame for that as he is.

Maybe more so.

She takes a few seconds to compose herself. "Today's made me think that perhaps there's a lot more to it that I don't understand."

"Nobody understands it — not fully. We're not even one-hundred percent sure why we imprint. Everyone's got their theories, but it's just . . . something that happens, I guess. But it's like I said the other day — it doesn't happen to everyone."

"The rare exception, not the rule," she mutters, recalling his words.

He's not surprised that she remembers so easily. "Right," he says, and turns his attention back to his imprint across the fire. He doesn't really want to talk about it anymore.

Leah and Paul haven't killed one another yet, though it's more down to their mutual respect for one another than Seth's insistence to referee their debate. They enjoy riling each other up too much to truly cause any upset between them. In fact, Jacob thinks that Leah is about the only person who can match Paul blow-for-blow in a verbal sparring match. A physical sparring match, however — that's something Jacob claims for himself.

"I have another question," Bella says then.

It's a damn miracle that he doesn't groan. "What?"

"Have any of the others imprinted?"

He smirks at her, leaning back on his arms. "Hoping for a change of scenery?" he teases.

"No," she says, face reddening again. "Just trying to understand. You and Leah don't act like Sam and Jared, or Emily and Kim. You're less . . . obvious."

"Trust me," he laughs, "we're really not. But being around imprints can be kinda strange to someone who's not Pack. I'm guessing that she's just trying to give us a bit of space, considering what happened the last time we saw each other."

Bella's eyebrows knit together. "You told her."

"Of course. Don't you and Edward tell each other everything?" he asks. He doesn't mean for it to sound like a challenge, but he knows she takes it as such when her shoulders stiffen and she turns away from him.

Belatedly, he supposes it was probably the wrong thing to say. After all, Edward knew about the imprint and didn't tell her for weeks and weeks, and it only makes Jacob curious about what else they might be keeping a secret from one another. Not that he particularly cares.

Either way, he's struck a nerve.

"It's getting late," she mutters.

He rolls his eyes. "It's barely nine, Bella. Come on, you're here now, so you might as well stay. The elders haven't even started yet."

She looks skeptical. Almost suspicious. "Started what?"

"We didn't meet just to eat through a week's worth of food," he says, rolling his eyes. "This is technically a council meeting. It's Collin and Brady's first time — they haven't heard the stories yet. Well, they've heard them, but this will be the first time they know they're true. That tends to make a guy pay closer attention."

"A council meeting? Should I even be—"

"Embry invited you, didn't he? It's fine. Just . . . listen."

Although still visibly confused, Bella draws herself upright as the atmosphere begins to change and the circle around the fire begins to settle. She sits pin-rod straight, apparently prepared to do exactly as he tells her for once. It leaves Jacob wondering whether there was a method to Embry's madness after all, despite how little he cares to investigate that thought — because it'll be her first time, too, and maybe she'll finally learn something. Maybe she'll pause to think, however inevitable her future seems right now. Perhaps she thinks she's going to get some of her answers about imprinting.

Seth traipses back over to their side of the fire and sits on Bella's other side, closely followed by his sister, Embry, Paul, Collin and Brady; the younger boys look particularly anxious about their first meeting, dithering about as they take an age to decide where to sit. They phased weeks ago but are still unsure of exactly where they fall within the Pack's hierarchy.

Eventually, Leah seems to make their decision for them when she sits next to Jacob, forcing the pair to nervously take up residence between Paul and the elders once she drags Embry down beside her and Quil inevitably scoots over to fill in the last gap. Their own hierarchy has been established for months now.

Jacob opens his arm for her, and she tilts her head up to kiss his cheek before leaning firmly against his side. "Hey."

"Hey. Did you have fun?"

"Oh, yeah. Fun," she says, gathering every last modicum of sarcasm this side of Washington into that single syllable. She tucks her legs underneath her. "Paul chose a weird hill to die on. Next he'll be telling me pineapple and chocolate go well together. Freak. What about you? Did you have . . . fun?"

"Oh, yeah," he retorts in the same tone. "Fun."

She presses her lips together, hiding her smile in the crook of his shoulder just as he hides his own in her hair, and neither of them moves again for the longest while as his father begins to recount their history. It's mostly for Collin and Brady's benefit, but also for Bella, who Jacob can tell is listening with rapt attention, if her stillness on his other side is anything to go by.

Even when Old Quil takes over from Billy and launches into the story of the third wife's sacrifice, her attention never waivers. The same can be said for Leah, who Jacob realises has not heard this particular tale in full before (at least, not with renewed perspective) — she seems to be hanging on to Old Quil's every word, and he wonders whether this story has been specifically chosen because of the two people who sit either side of him.

Maybe he's just being paranoid and thinking too much into it. Nobody knew Bella would be in attendance. Either way, despite his very best attempts, Jacob cannot distract Leah, not with his fingers dancing over the small of her back or running through her loose hair. She doesn't stop him though, and nobody else mocks him for it.

"—then the third wife did something the Cold Woman did not expect," Old Quil's gravelly voice continues over the fire, though Jacob has heard this enough times that he could speak the next words by heart. His fingers keep up their dance across Leah's skin — he is more intrigued by her reaction than anything else. "She fell to her knees at the blood drinker's feet and plunged the knife into her own heart.

"The blood drinker could not resist the lure of the fresh blood leaving the third wife's body. Instinctively, she turned to the dying woman, for one second entirely consumed by thirst that she was unaware of Taha Aki's teeth closing around her neck.

"He was not alone now. Watching their mother die, two young sons felt such rage that they sprang forth as their spirit wolves, though they were not yet men. With their father, they finished the creature.

"Taha Aki never rejoined the tribe. He never changed back to a man again. He lay for one day beside the body of the third wife, growling whenever anyone tried to touch her, and then he went into the forest and never returned."

Hell, even Bella seems to understand the significance of that. Seems to understand what they all do: that the third wife was an imprint. She sucks in a sharp breath only half a second after Leah does on his other side, and he wonders whether he sees the significant looks that seem to be passed around the fire between certain members of the Pack — whether Leah notices them, too, and if she returns them in kind.

Well, at least he's not as paranoid as he thought — the Council definitely picked this story for a reason.

"Time passed, and not all of Taha Aki's descendants were destined to become wolves when they reached manhood. Only once in a great while, if a Cold One was near, the wolves returned.

"When another coven came, your great-grandfathers prepared to fight them off. But the leader spoke to Ephraim Black as if he were a man, promising not to harm the Quileutes, and a treaty was agreed.

"They've stayed true to their side, though their presence does tend to draw in others, and the sheer number of them have forced a larger group of protectors than the tribe has ever seen," the elder ploughs on, his voice turning somewhat hoarse now, but for one moment his gaze seems to rest solely on Bella. They all notice. "Except, of course, in Taha Aki's time. And so the sons of our tribe again carry the burden and share the sacrifice their fathers endured before them."

The circle is silent for a long moment. And then—

"Burden," Quil scoffs loudly, a sentiment that is loudly agreed by the youngest members of the Pack.

It still amazes Jacob that his friend is the person who fears Old Quil the most and yet is the only person brave enough — or stupid enough — to openly mock anything that his grandfather says, especially in front of the whole damn tribe. Jacob's own father would have had his hide before he could blink if he'd dared do the same.

Several members from both the Pack and the Council roll their eyes at Quil, their collective sigh long-suffering. Then Jared throws something in the youngest Ateara's direction; Jacob thinks that it looks suspiciously like a rock. Whatever it is, it bounces harmlessly off the side of his shoulder, but save for a lazy flip of the bird he tosses in his brother's direction, Quil barely seems to notice it.

And just like that, they all fall back into their natural rhythm.

Bella doesn't speak, and neither does Leah — they are both so still beside him, their breathing even and deep, that Jacob thinks they might quite possibly be asleep.

God, he hopes not. But before he can bring himself to check (the guys are really going to get a kick out of this one), Leah lifts her head from his shoulder and offers him a quiet smile. It blinds him, and he doesn't have any words to give her because there aren't any that seem right — not even the three that have been playing at the forefront of his mind, begging to be said. He almost forgets where they are.

Her cell buzzing without warning from her pocket ruins the moment.

"Dammit," she mutters, awkwardly fishing it out of her front pocket and flipping it open. "I set an alarm. It's nearly ten-thirty. We gotta leave if she's going to get back in time."

Daring a look down at his other side, where Bella has still not moved a muscle, Jacob sighs.

"She's asleep," he says, which only makes him start pining for his own bed again. Or Leah's — he's not particularly picky where they end up as long as it's in the same place. "Ugh. You think he'll meet us at the treaty line?"

Leah's scoff is quiet and dark. "Are you asking me if I think that he's waiting as close as he possibly can without starting a war?" she asks humorlessly, stretching her legs out and rolling her neck. "Because he's definitely doing that. I bet he followed us right outta Forks and has been parked up halfway down the one-oh one all evening, plotting murder."

She has a point there, but at least it's better than the thought of Edward actually crossing the treaty line to come and find Bella himself. Jacob does not doubt that the bloodsucker would do it if he thought that Bella was being held hostage, in danger, or something equally as outlandish.

"Are you up for another trip?"

She is already fishing the keys to the Rabbit out of her other pocket. "Nah, I think I'll stay here," she says. And then, at his incredulous look (because he hadn't banked on actually being alone with Bella, even if it is rightfully his turn to take one for the team), Leah shakes her head.

"Oh, you're so easy. Of course I am. You're driving this time, though. And we're coming straight back home," she says in a tone that leaves absolutely no room for argument. "Some of us mortals have school in the morning. Finals to study for, lives to live, that kind of thing."

"Yes, ma'am," he quips, snapping a salute. "That just leaves one last question . . . Are you going to wake her up, or am I?"

Leah is up on her feet before another word can be said, already starting off towards the banks of the beach without so much as a goodbye to any of their family.

"Thanks," he calls dryly, and he swears that her answering laugh matches his brothers'.