Author's Note:
Okay guys, I give you Paul. Paul is notorious for his short fuse and his hot temper, so please keep that in mind while reading. There is some vulgar talk, some swearing, and some rather negative aspects to his story. I tried to get inside his mind and try to figure out why he is so volatile, yet can turn around and be loyal and likeable. This is what I came up with.
I will warn you, he does get called a derogatory name in his story – it sets him off pretty bad. In no way does it reflect my feelings about Native Americans – Just a story, okay? I imagine that whatever makes him phase for the first time would have had to set him off pretty bad. Don't get too worried though – Paul has his reasons for doing what he does, and I still think he is a strong character. I just think he has a short fuse on top of his loveable smart ass : )
Just an FYI – when the wolves speak to each other through their mind link, the font will be italicized.
Enjoy!
Paul
(September)
Paul crinkled his nose slightly as he fought to swallow the hard liquor. He glanced around the smoky little bar, hoping that no one saw him wince at the flavor of the alcohol.
He didn't normally drink. Ever.
In fact, this was the first time he had even been close to being buzzed in his entire life. His friend Ezra had given him the fake ID a few weeks ago, and this was the first time Paul had had the balls to actually try to use it.
The fight with his father earlier that evening had been the worst one yet. His father was quite the drinker himself, hence Paul's initial hesitation to give the stuff a try. However, after their last blowup, he was convinced that he needed a drink. Or twelve.
He had come up to La Push's seedy little Village Tap, and the somewhat believable fake ID had gotten him eight Jack and Cokes so far. He knew he wasn't all the way drunk yet because he still minded and noticed the flavor of the harsh alcohol.
Yes, all in an effort to forget about his father and their stupid fights. Honestly, he couldn't even remember now what had started their latest 'white trash throw down' as he referred to them. Paul would say something smart ass and rude, then his father would lecture him on being an immature punk, then Paul would fire back with something about his father being a lazy jackass…then usually one of them would throw something. Their brawls usually ended in the front yard as Paul jumped into the car they shared and tore out of the driveway. Obscenities usually ensued.
He raised up his glass, shaking it so that the ice tinkled against the sides.
"Gee, does that mean you want another?" the bartender asked sarcastically.
He nodded and slammed the glass back down on the counter. As his thoughts wandered back to his father, he made a face and looked away in disgust. He hated drinking, but it was the only thing that took his mind off his troubles. His mother lived with her boyfriend up in Makah, and she was never around. Living with her wasn't an option anymore – she had her own life to live, and Paul wasn't about to pile all the details of his shitty life on his poor mom. She had lived with his drunk of a father for years before finally leaving him when Paul was thirteen.
She had moved in with her new boyfriend a few months later. Paul's sacrifice had been to let her go and live her own life for awhile. He had made it practically all the way through high school without her, but it was times like this that he needed her support.
He couldn't blame her for leaving because, honestly, if he could too, he would have years ago. Living with an alcoholic, abusive father wasn't his idea of a good time either.
His father had always been a drunk; there was no way around it. As much as it had embarrassed him all his life, he was used to it. He was used to his dad showing up buzzed to his football games, stumbling up to the bleachers. He was used to having to pick him up at the bar, wasted. He was used to their refrigerator at home only housing beer, beef jerky, and whisky. However, he had never gotten used to the pain that his father being an alcoholic has caused.
Paul watched the brown liquid swirl together in the glass tumbler as the bartender poured. He met her eyes as she pulled the bottle back up, giving him a knowing look.
"Drowning some sorrows are we?" she asked. The woman was older, and obviously onto his charade – he was clearly not twenty one, and they both knew it.
"You could say that," he mumbled, raising the glass to his lips. "Can you leave the bottle?" he asked softly.
She eyed him sternly for a moment, and then her expression softened. "Sure. If you promise not to drive anywhere," she finally said.
"I walked."
"Okay, then."
She scribbled his tab down on the piece of paper, and he looked down at the worn top of the bar. He was actually glad that she had let him drink – she felt sorry for him and he knew it. Paul was a senior in high school, and La Push was small enough that she probably knew him. Not that it mattered. It wasn't very crowded in the small place that night. A few people sat at the small wooden tables, and not very many people were sitting at the bar. The jukebox was silent.
Paul took another long sip of the last of his Jack and Coke before pouring the brown liquid straight into the glass, sans mixer. He gulped it down, wishing to stop his mind from remembering the events from earlier that night.
Earlier, he had been in his bedroom, doing a rare dash of homework when his father had come home from work in a recognizable mood. They had fought about the car being low on gas or something stupid and trivial like that, and Paul had blown up at him. He remembered how his fists had shaken and clenched as his father's voice had gotten louder and louder.
He turned his head as a group of other teenagers came in. Paul recognized them as some boys that were seniors from Forks High school. He had played them in football earlier in the year, and he was instantly irritated that they were there. His hand shook a little as he raised the glass of Jack to his lips and gulped the rest of it down.
Their voices rang out in the small bar as the group of four laughed and yelled all the way up to the bar. Paul glared over his shoulder as one of them began playing some loud, annoying rap music on the jukebox.
I just want some fucking peace and quiet.
He turned his head back around to try to calm himself. Instead, he focused on the brown liquid as it shook in the glass. Reaching over, he tried to steady his hand, but instead the anger seemed to heat up and boil in his stomach. The louder the annoying group of boys got, the hotter his rage grew.
The sound of his own teeth grinding rang in his head as he gripped the glass in his hands. He was so angry that he didn't even notice when it cracked, shattering a few seconds later. Paul barely flinched as he wiped his hand on his jeans and glared over his shoulders again. The group of boys hadn't noticed him yet.
The bartender looked at him nervously as she visibly debated whether or not to wipe up the spilt whisky and broken glass that now lay in front of him. She stayed put as she watched Paul's obvious anger grow.
The four boys made their way up to the bar, laughing and yelling the whole way. Their annoying behavior was quickly getting on his nerves. They had obviously already been drinking a little bit; Paul could smell liquor on them as well. He uncapped the bottle of liquor in front of him, taking a swig right from the mouth of it.
"Boys," the bartender acknowledged them.
"Four Bud Lights. Make it snappy," one of them sneered at her.
Paul ground his teeth again. He shuddered slightly as his lungs tightened. It was getting harder and harder to breathe, and deep breaths were what he desperately needed right then. He knew he needed to calm down before his hot temper got the best of him, but he was having a lot of difficulty at the moment.
"Come on!" the other jeered at the bartender. She just shook her head and popped the tops off the beers. She looked like she was going to ask them to see some ID, but thought better of it.
They were standing in a small cluster just five feet away from him. His hands began to shake again as he gripped the wooden rail of the bar, still trying to look as natural as possible. Anger boiled inside of him as the annoying rap song pounded in his ears.
The bartender silently placed an empty glass in front of Paul, and he nodded in acknowledgement at her for giving him a new one.
"What does it take to get some shots in this place?" one of the boys asked loudly.
"Just ask," the bartender snapped. "Do I look like a mind reader?"
"Easy sweetheart…you're kinda sassy. You're old enough to be my grandmother!" the other one laughed.
Paul pressed his lips together and blew a breath out of his nose as he tried to regain control. It wasn't helping.
The bartender said nothing, only pausing to give the four young boys an annoyed glance.
Paul looked at them sideways, his eyes unblinking and harsh.
"You got a problem there Squanto?"
That was it. It seemed to happen in slow motion after that. Paul's fist quickly connected with the first boy's face before the word was fully off his lips. He yelped out in pain as he fell to the floor, passing out cold.
His three friends gaped at Paul for a moment in surprise before all the alcohol they had consumed gave them their courage. Paul ducked and tossed his barstool down in front of them just in time to miss the first offensively placed punch.
"Get him!" The second boy shouted. The bartender shrieked as Paul tossed another barstool in between him and the other boys, and everyone else in the tiny bar moved off to the side to give them some space to fight.
"Stop it! Stop it I said!" she hollered. Paul's rage only grew as they all moved to the center of the small room, the three boys circling him. He panted and began to shake again as the drunken bodies moved around, taunting him.
"You got a problem there, son?" one of them jeered. The jukebox was still silent as they circled him, kicking chairs out of the way while they moved around him.
"Yeah, he seems a little moody, don't he?" another one added in. The last boy didn't even have to say anything. His cocky expression alone was enough to send Paul into another rage.
"I'm gonna kick your ass, white boy," Paul growled so fiercely his own tone surprised him momentarily.
Lunging, he grabbed the first boy around the neck and slammed his face down onto the table. He was grabbed by the back of his shirt collar and pulled away from him, getting his own body pushed against one of the wooden tables. It splintered under his weight and crashed to the ground.
Paul shook his head to clear it after the blow, and then kicked his legs out quickly, taking two of them down. The first boy was coming to again, and moved over Paul to deliver several quick punches to his jaw. Paul grabbed him by the shirt and rolled him over to straddle him and return the blows he had just been given.
"Ahh!" he gasped as he felt someone jump on his back.
The fight continued for several more minutes before Paul was able to grab a beer bottle and smack it on the corner of a table. He held it out to defend only to feel something being sprayed in his eyes that practically paralyzed him. He fell to the floor, furiously rubbing his eyes in defeat. He could hear the groans of all the boys around him as they all fought the fiery substance in their eyes.
"You boys!" the voice groaned, yanking them all apart.
"I'm sorry, I had to do something before they ripped the place apart!" He heard the bartender yell.
"Don't worry Scarla, it's our job. Outside, now!"
He felt himself being pulled up and moved outside into the crisp night air with the rest of his attackers.
Shit. Cops, he thought.
"They started it," Paul mumbled as he rubbed his eyes.
"Shut it," the cop grumbled, slamming him up against the hood of the car. Paul groaned as he felt the cold metal of the handcuffs being secured around his wrists. And it would only go downhill from there.
x-X-x-X-x-X-x
"Your bail has been posted. GET UP!" a voice roared.
Paul groaned and opened his eyes. His head was pounding, and it felt like his brain had been shoved through a meat grinder. Staggering slightly, he stood and straightened up. Besides being a little stiff and sore from sleeping on a jail cell floor all night with a slight hangover, he felt okay. The police officer led him out of the cell to a desk, where he began his paperwork.
Then, the officer did a double take.
"What?" Paul snapped at him. The officer raised one eyebrow and shook his head.
"You were pretty beat up when they brought you in this morning, but you look fine," he said slowly.
Paul frowned, looking down at his hands and arms. He had expected them to be beat up or at least a little cut and bruised from his antics last night, but they looked fine. He turned his arms over and over, looking at them in wonder. He grabbed a silver picture frame off the desk in front of him and looked at his reflection in the metal. His face was absolutely fine too. Not a scratch.
"Weird," he whispered, touching his cheek.
"Yeah," the cop said flatly. He finished the paperwork and shuffled him out to the waiting area where his father was waiting. Paul's stomach tightened as he took in the expression on his face. There was none. And that was not good.
The ride home was silent. Paul leaned his head on the cool glass of the passenger side window, wishing he could just be sucked into the cracked vinyl seats. But to no avail.
They arrived home to their tiny house, his father slamming the door shut behind him. Paul walked in next, and cringed as his father went to the fridge to grab a beer and crack it open. Glancing at the clock, he noticed that it wasn't even eight in the morning yet.
Great.
He looked around their disheveled little house, shaking his head. It was a shell of what it used to be when his mother lived there. He had never noticed until she left what her little feminine touches had done to spruce it up and make it feel like home. Paul missed her at times like this more than ever.
"Dad-"
"No. You let me speak." His father gripped the aluminum can in his hand, his dark eyebrows furrowed.
Paul closed his mouth, his hazel eyes falling to the floor. He could already tell that this wasn't going to be pretty.
"This morning…consider that the last one."
"The last one what?"
"Handout."
Paul was speechless. His father had practically never given him anything, much less a handout.
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
His father leaped out of his chair and slammed the beer down on the coffee table. "Don't you speak to me like that! I'm your father, and you better clean up that mouth of yours while you're talking to me, boy!"
Paul laughed bitterly. "You'd never know you were my father by the way you act!"
"You better watch it son…"
"Or what?" He challenged. He felt his fists ball up at his sides, his breath growing more ragged in his tightening chest.
"I might be older now but I'll still take you out back and kick your ass."
Paul snorted. "Nice thing to say to your son. And I'd like to see you try."
His father inhaled sharply, his dark eyes lighting up. "Times like this I understand why your momma left us."
That was the last straw.
"Me? You think she left because of me? You're a lousy drunk and you ran around behind her. I can't blame her one bit for leaving your sorry ass! Fucking piece of shit!" Paul growled, beginning to pace. His heart was racing in his chest, and he suddenly began to panic as it sped up even more.
"You better watch it-"
"Or what? You gonna take me out back and beat me? I'd like to see you try old man. I really would."
"You always were a smartass, Paul. Lousy, good for nothing-"
"She left because of you, and you can say whatever you want to about it, but you know the truth. She left because you were a shitty husband and an even worse father."
His dad was silent for a moment. They stood on opposite sides of the living room, both of them panting with anger.
His father was silent for a moment before taking another long swig of his beer. "I'm done with your lazy ass and bad attitude. You been takin' advantage of me for years. Get yer shit, and get out."
Paul's mouth fell open in shock. Then, he could practically feel the anger and rage boiling up in his veins as he stood in the living room with his father as he drank.
"You're kicking me out?" he hissed. "I'm still in high school and you're kicking me out?"
"Looks that way, don't it?" His dad asked him casually. "I'm sick of you and your crap. Getting caught in a bar and forcing me to have to bail your sorry ass out of jail? I'm not doin' it anymore, Paul."
"I'm your son!" Paul suddenly roared, smacking a lamp off the table next to him. It collided with the wall and crashed to the floor with a chunk of drywall.
His father was silent as they both seethed at each other for a moment.
"Get out. Get your shit and get out."
x-X-x-X-x-X-x
Paul slung his bag over his shoulder as he walked down the empty streets of La Push. It was still early in the day and somewhat warm, but he knew it wouldn't stay that way for long. He would have to figure something else out.
After he had packed a bag of clothes, he had snuck out to the garage and grabbed a few bits of camping gear that still looked useable, but hadn't found much. After his father had sunk further into his alcoholism, much of the house and their belongings had fallen to the wayside.
"Piece of shit," he muttered under his breath as he began to walk. His boots scuffed along the road as he walked. He was dragging his feet because he knew he wasn't really in a hurry to get anywhere in particular.
Looking up at the sky, he grumbled to himself as it began to cloud up even more than before, a light drizzle falling.
Figures, he thought bitterly. He walked along the side of the road for a few miles, staring at his feet. The road he was on traced the edges of La Push, but that was fine with him. He didn't really feel like seeing anyone anyway.
Slowly, his mind drifted back to the night before. Between getting tossed into jail and having his father kick him out of the house, he hadn't really thought about what he had done at the bar. Paul had always had a short temper, but it had grown noticeably worse in the past few months. Silly, trivial things now set him off in the biggest temper tantrums that left him feeling like a testy two-year-old.
"Stupid shit," he mumbled to himself, kicking absently at a stray rock. When he reached the edge of town, he found himself on First Beach. Gratefully, it was practically empty of visitors, so he sat down against a fallen tree. He dumped his bags down on the ground, shrugging out of his shirt. Sweat beads rolled down the sides of his face, although he didn't really feel tired. Wiping them away, he frowned again as he realized how cold it was outside. The wind whipped off the waves and bit at his tan skin, but he realized that he felt almost…comfortable.
"Add that to the list," he muttered, crossing his ankles. He sat on the beach for several hours, thinking about the previous night. Regret and shame flashed through him as he replayed the scenes he could remember in his mind. He remembered cracking the bottle on the table, the shards of glass flying everywhere.
Would I have really done something with a broken bottle? I could have killed someone with that.
He winced when he realized that he already knew the answer – yes.
Thinking back now, he couldn't remember why he was even so angry with them. They were just another group of teenage boys in a bar where neither party belonged. Loud, stupid peers had never really bothered him before. Why did it bother him so much now?
His hangover had gone away, and he realized that he would be very hungry soon. Glancing in his wallet, he pulled out several crumpled ones. That, mixed with the change in his pockets, added up to $12.76.
"Super," he muttered, shoving the crumpled money back into his wallet.
He squinted as he glanced up the beach. The sun was masked by a thin group of clouds; they were so thin that he could still see the outline of the sun through them.
His stomach grumbled loudly, and the meager lump of change in his pocket seemed to grow more and more daunting. He knew he wouldn't be able to survive on a little more than twelve bucks. What the fuck am I gonna do? He thought.
Glancing down at his hands, he turned them over in front of his face. They seemed…bigger. In fact, now that he thought about it, everything on his body seemed bigger. Yes, everything. He smirked with satisfaction when he thought about how all of his body parts had significantly grown in the past few months. He hadn't had a chance to test out his new 'equipment' as he referred to his newer, larger anatomy. His gut had told him that he should probably stay away from girls for a few weeks as he got used to his new hot temper. He had seen enough of his old man beating on his mom before she had left him that he wasn't about to risk that.
I wouldn't ever hit a girl…I couldn't live with myself if I did that. Not like Dad…
He had decided that it was just best to keep his distance. Lately, his father had given him enough emotional baggage to deal with that there wouldn't have been room for a girl if he wanted one.
I just wish I understood why everything fucking pisses me off so much these days.
Frowning, he realized that it was a little strange that he had grown so much when he was this old. Normally, teenage boys grew when they were thirteen, fourteen, fifteen…but eighteen? It all just seemed strange to him.
Not that I'm complaining, he thought. So far, his beefier body had come in handy, especially when it was paired with his hot temper. He had always been a bit short fused, but this was ridiculous. His temper had gotten so out of control that he usually needed his new muscles to get him out of trouble.
Paul had been in at least one fight a week at school for the past month. It was over stupid shit really; someone gave him a wrong 'look' or didn't move out of his way fast enough. These days, the smallest little thing was enough to set him over the edge to insanity and rage.
Before he knew it, it was beginning to get dark on the beach where he was sitting, and he knew he needed to do something about shelter for the night. He felt slightly panicky as he packed up his bags and tried to decide which way to go. Getting kicked out was a first; he had no idea what to do or where to go.
Where the fuck am I gonna sleep? Shit….
Annoyance danced at the front of his thoughts as he trudged down the beach, mentally listing off places to go. He had a few buddies he could probably crash with but would he want to explain that his drunk of a father had actually kicked him out?
Great, now they'll think I'm an ever bigger piece of trash than they probably already do. Not what I need right now.
His stubbornness was not waning. He couldn't bite back his pride and ask one of his buddies from school for help. In his mind, that would just be flat out admitting that he was a complete loser.
Soon, he found himself in the woods of La Push. The tall, moss covered trees stretched up towards the sky, blocking out almost all of the remnants of the bleak sun up above. Ferns stretched and wound themselves into the underbrush that lined the forest floor, further expanding the green landscape. Tossing his bags to the ground, he sighed heavily as he surveyed the area. He was about fifty feet into the woods, just far enough from the beach that he could still pleasantly hear the waves crashing against the rocks, but it wasn't deafening.
Looking around the quickly darkening forest, he shuddered slightly. His body was still warm, strangely enough, but his nerves were starting to get the worst of him. Being out here all alone in the wilderness…it was quite daunting.
Suck it up, ya wuss. So you have to camp a few nights! Big deal...you're a Native, this is what we do. Shouldn't be an issue…
He stood in the woods, jutting his chin out defiantly. Looking around, he began to gather a few pieces of wood together to burn, hoping that they weren't too wet to make a fire. After digging in his pockets for some lint, he was able to get a decent sized fire going, much to his relief. At least if he had a fire he would be somewhat warm. Rolling out his thin sleeping bag, he glanced around the woods surrounding him.
It was almost dark now, and he knew that things in these woods changed when the sun went down. Animals would be out soon, looking for food – and they weren't just raccoons and rabbits. Bears, wolves, cougars….Washington had them all. He shuddered when he thought about being caught in the woods by a bear. Not many people survived to tell about bear attacks.
He leaned back against a tree, debating what to do next. If he could sleep out there for the night, then it might be possible to sneak into the locker room at school early enough to catch a shower.
I'm now homeless and I'm worried about school…yeah Dad, I'm a pretty bad son, he thought bitterly.
He was tired from his stressful day, and he soon drifted to sleep against the tree. He jerked awake several times in the night when a slightly sour, sickening smell wafted into his nose. He would sit up and gasp, looking around frantically…but would see nothing but the fire burning in front of him. Several times he had added more wood to the flames, hoping that it would deter any large animals from coming near him.
His heart pounded in his chest when he was startled awake, and each time he became more anxious than the last. When daylight finally started to creep into the woods, he relaxed a little. It had been a long night.
He passed his house on the walk back from the beach – he had to fight the urge to steal the car he and his father usually shared. Most mornings, he would drop his dad off at work and take the car to school. This morning, however, he noticed that his father was still home. Paul shook his head and kept walking. He was done there – done with that house, done with his father, and done with that part of his life. He had made up his mind after spending the night out in the woods.
Sneaking into the school was easy enough – he had been at the little reservation high school long enough to know how to break in when he needed to. He quickly showered in the locker room, trying his best to appear normal. The last thing he needed today was to get teased about being arrested and kicked out of his house. As he dressed, he only hoped that no one had heard about either occurrence.
Paul listlessly ghosted through most of school that day. His mind was consumed with panicky thoughts about where he would go and what he would do next. He had no family in town, and no friends that he was particularly close with. Sure, he had acquaintances and people he hung out with sometimes, but no real close buddies he could stay with. His pride would have stopped him from asking for help anyway.
As he sat in math class, he blankly looked at the students around him, specifically the girls. If only he had a girlfriend – maybe if he did he could have stayed with her. Shaking his head, he pushed the thought away. His temper would have been enough to scare any girl away, especially these days. None of the girls at the reservation school had ever really appealed to him anyway. They all just seemed…so immature. He didn't care for that – he had enough problems as it was and didn't need to be dealing with some immature sophomore's petty drama.
After class, he walked to his locker to switch out his books and try to make it look like he was paying attention in class, even though his mind was a million miles away.
"Heard you got into a little scuffle up at The Village Tap the other night, Paulie," the boy next to him, Scott, said.
Paul clenched his teeth and slammed his locker shut, coming face to face with his annoying classmate.
"Whoa, calm down," he laughed, shutting his own locker. He gave Paul a worried glance and looked like he immediately regretted bringing it up.
"I've told you like eighty times not to call me 'Paulie' he growled. Before he could control himself, he grabbed the boy by the neck and slammed him up against the locker.
Stop it! What are you doing you idiot? Not another fight! His mind screamed at him. Paul knew he couldn't afford to get into another fight, not with being arrested the day before.
However, there was another side, another voice that echoed after his conscience.
Who is he to talk to you like that? He deserves it. Get him….
A low, guttural growl escaped his throat as he pushed Scott up against the orange lockers, his grip tightening. Scott flailed and kicked beneath him, his eyes wide.
Students around them moved to the side with amazed glances as they watched Paul torture Scott.
"Dude, let him go!" Another student yelled, pulling at Paul's shoulder.
"Stop it!" a girl shrieked. Out of the corner of his mind, he realized that a lot of people were witnessing yet another unexplainable outburst, and he fought to regain control of himself. With a dissatisfied grunt, he flexed his hand one last time and then let his grip go. Scott fell to the floor, his dark brown eyes wide as he gasped for breath. The color in his face soon returned to normal, and Paul backed away.
The whispers began, and the students filtered away from him as he stalked down the hallway.
Shit.
x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x
Later that night, Paul fumbled in his pocket for the granola bar he had saved from lunch. He had already eaten the sandwich and the soda he had gotten from the school lunch line, and he was already hungry again.
Paul had returned to his campsite not far from First Beach, and his fire had restarted without much trouble. He was still hungry, but that was the least of his worries. It was getting dark again, and tonight the animals in the woods around him were more active than they had been the night before.
Off in the distance, a wolf howled. The sound made the hairs on his arms stand up as he leaned against the tree, staring into the flames. He looked around, suddenly very paranoid.
Relax. You were fine last night, you'll be fine tonight. Just chill the fuck out.
He drifted to sleep after awhile, his hands clenched at his sides. He had his hunting knife beside him on the ground just in case, but he knew that wouldn't save him if something large decided that he was dinner.
He frowned as he slept. In his dreams, a pair of hazel animal eyes was watching him sleep from the tree line. Its breath showed up as puffs of white in the chilly night air. Then, the pictures changed. Instead, the legends of his forefathers that his dad had told him when he was little swirled inside his mind. The dark skinned men in his dreams began to move and change in the dream as they became large, dark shapes that he couldn't identify.
Then, one of them lunged at him suddenly in his dream. As it came closer to his face, the strange dark shape took the form of a white and grey wolf, baring its teeth and snarling.
"Ah!" he gasped, sitting up straight. His eyes were wide as he grabbed the knife and gripped it tight. Something rustled in the trees behind him, and he leaped up to his feet, his eyes even wider than before.
His heart pounded in his chest as he searched the dark woods with his eyes, his hands starting to shake. Suddenly, the sound was on the other side of the small clearing.
It rustled the leaves, and he caught a glimpse of something. Then, it was on the other side again, breaking a twig. A few seconds later, he heard another rustling of leaves off to the right.
Whatever it was, it was taunting him. Circling him…like prey.
Paul breathed deeply, his hands still shaking. He looked around the tree line of the clearing incredulously as he realized that it wasn't fear that was making him shake. It was anger. He was angry that whatever it was in the woods was teasing him, testing his patience. He became aware that his gut wanted whatever it was to come forward so that he could fight it.
What the fuck? I want to fight it? What has gotten into me!
Suddenly, a rumbling growl escaped his lips as he stood in the center of the clearing beside his fire, slightly crouched like he was ready to spring. Another twig snapped behind him, and he whirled around quickly to see nothing.
Another few noises sounded in the darkness, and soon Paul was panting with rage.
"Show yourself!" he growled as a strange tremor wracked his spine. He winced as it continued up into the back of his head, making him shake even harder.
Looking down at his hands, his mouth fell open as they began to blur wildly. He faintly heard another rustle in the leaves behind him, further igniting his anger.
"Ah!" he groaned in pain. The next tremor of fury lifted him from his feet as it ripped through his body, making him cry out again. Fire ripped up his spine for the second time, and for a moment he actually thought he had fallen into his small camp fire.
Then, Paul hit the ground. On all fours.
x-X-x-X-x-X-x
Holy shit it worked. Huh.
Paul looked up suddenly, jumping slightly. The pain was gone, but…something was definitely off. He looked around as he tried to determine where that voice had come from. He hadn't said anything…or thought anything. There was definitely something there.
He tried to say 'Hello?' but instead he heard an animal whining. Jumping again, he felt something large and fluffy dart beneath his back legs.
Holy shit!
He then realized that he was on all fours. As an animal.
What the fuck? His mind screamed at him. Something was wrong…very, very wrong.
I can't believe it really worked. I thought you would never phase.
He looked around in fear, this time realizing that he indeed had not spoken. He couldn't speak. He was…some sort of animal.
Wolf, the voice answered.
What? What is that? What…am I hearing voices? He thought in a panicked flurry of thought.
No…it's me. Don't attack me, okay?
The voice in his head was calm, but slightly excited. He could sense that it didn't want to hurt him, but he still didn't exactly trust it.
What? Attack?
Just...just don't. Stay still. You have a knife in your leg.
Paul glanced down with his large, animal head at the mild stinging in his left leg and realized he had stabbed himself when he…changed. Wincing, he heard himself whine as he realized he no longer had hands to use to pull it out. Limping slightly, he tried to sit but soon abandoned that idea.
He heard a twig break in front of him, and he snapped is head up and widened his eyes that could now see much better in the dark. That's when he saw it. A large, horse sized black wolf slowly emerged from the underbrush, his head dipped low and his tail raised up straight and wagging from side to side slightly. Paul wasn't sure why, but seeing the animal's tail wagging slightly set him a little more at ease.
Instinct, the voice answered.
What? Paul thought.
Instinct, the loud, deep voice answered. It had a distinct sound in the tone of it that made him calm a little, but he was still panicked to be hearing it in first place.
What is that?
It's me, the voice said. The animal in front of him wagged his tail and barked softly, his eyes lighting up.
Paul's eyes widened for a moment as he realized that the voice was coming from the large animal in front of him.
We're…linked mentally. The voice you hear is mine. I'm Sam.
Holy shit that giant wolf is talking to me!
The huge black wolf rolled his eyes and sat back on his haunches, wrapping his tail around him at his feet. He yawned, exposing his rows of sharp, white teeth.
Holy shit… Paul thought, stumbling back.
You know, you can talk to me and not about me. I'm right here.
What...what…can you...hear me? Paul thought.
What part of 'mentally linked' do you not get?
So…you can really hear me and talk to me? We can talk to each other?
The large animal rolled his eyes again. Yes. Now are we going to get that knife out of your leg or not?
Paul glanced back down at the blade that was wedged in his back thigh and winced as he was reminded of the burning pain that was steadily growing.
Ulgh…yes.
Don't bite me.
Huh?
I'm going to pull it out with my teeth. Just don't bite me.
The large, black wolf moved slowly closer to him, and Paul felt the hair on his back stand up.
Stop it, the voice commanded. Paul felt himself instantly relax. Now it was Sam's turn to be amazed.
Wow, I really am the Alpha. He did exactly as I said…whoa…the Elders weren't lying.
Lying about what? What's going on?
Shut up and hold still.
Paul cringed as he felt Sam's powerful jaws close around the handle of the blade, and he actually heard himself yelp as Sam yanked it out and dropped it to the ground.
Will I need stitches? What the…what am I going to do? I stabbed myself!
He felt the panic start to rise in his chest as he glanced back at the blood wound in his grey fur.
Just relax…and watch this… Sam said.
Paul turned his new wolf head to look back at his leg. His jaw fell open as he watched the gash in his fur slowly close up and scab over, the fur around it molding back into place slowly.
What the…
We heal fast, Sam said flatly to him in his head.
What the fuck…. Paul muttered to himself. He looked back at the animal in front of him. Uh…thanks? I guess…what…wow, this is weird.
I know. I just can't believe someone else phased. This is incredible! The deep voice rumbled happily.
Wait...phased? What are you talking about?
The black wolf sat back down a few feet away, opening his mouth to let his tongue hang out the side lazily.
Yeah...phase. That's what you just did, and it's what I did, too. I've been waiting for someone else to do it for a long time.
Wait...you mean...you're a human, too?
The black wolf closed his mouth and growled softly, an annoyed expression on his animal face.
Did you think I was born like this? A mentally talking wolf? Do you normally talk to other giant dogs you find in the woods?
Well...no, Paul admitted. But…this isn't normal. What's going on?
It's a long story. Follow me. The large animal stood, moving through the woods. Paul stumbled a few times, but quickly got the hang of walking on all fours. He followed the black wolf to the edge of the forest where he paused.
Gotta check to make sure no one is out here…
Why?
Sam turned around and looked at him, his wolf eyes wide. What would you do if you saw a horse-sized wolf walking down the beach?
Okay Okay…
Sam led him down to the tide pools that lined the rocky shore, and the two of them slunk up behind a large group of boulders.
Look down.
Paul gave him a skeptical glance before leaning over and looking at his reflection in the glassy, shallow water.
Holy shit…is...is that me?
Sam nodded. Yup.
I'm a…a wolf. A HUGE wolf. What. The. Fuck.
You finally changed. Took you long enough…But…you're a wolf now, just like me.
Forever?
The animal moved its head from side to side. No, not forever. We can change back.
So we're werewolves?
No. Not werewolves. Shape shifters. Didn't you pay attention to the legends?
Paul's mind moved back to his father telling him the tribal legends when he was a child. His memories were blurry and fuzzy, as he didn't remember hearing them much after his dad began drinking and avoiding tribal meetings and family gatherings.
Oh…sorry to hear that, Sam thought.
Paul's mind reeled. Wait…you heard that? I mean...you saw that?
About your dad? Yeah. You thought about it, didn't you? Wow, this is a little weird, Sam thought.
Paul was instantly angry. You stay outta my head.
I'm starting to wish I could, Sam said. The large black wolf stood up, swishing his tail in an irritated manner.
The last thing I need is for you to throw a temper tantrum. You seemed irritable-
What are you talking about?
I was watching you for a few days. Dad kick you out?
Wait, what? You've been watching me?
The wolf nodded. Yeah….Harry told me that a large teenage guy got arrested at the Village Tap the night before last for starting a fight. So I went over to your house and heard your dad kick you out. You've been camping.
You saw all that?
Yeah. Sorry man…That sucks. My dad left me and my mom, too, Sam admitted.
Hey, I don't blame my mom for leaving. You stay out of it, Paul snapped at him.
Whatever, just…I had to hang around 'cause we all thought you would phase soon.
Who's 'we'? Paul asked indignantly.
The tribe's elders. They told me to watch for someone else to phase and when I heard about the fight…and then when I saw you, I knew.
Wait...saw me? Paul's mind flashed to his growth spurt…the heat…the shaking…the anger fits…
Yeah. That's it alright. You didn't think you grew a foot and gained like a hundred pounds of muscle for no reason? Yeah right. Wishful thinking, sport.
Okay, alright…so you were in the woods? Is that why I was so pissed?
Um, yeah. The wolf tends to bring that side of us out.
So that's normal?
The black wolf nodded. Unfortunately. You can learn to control it though, or at least that's what Harry says.
Harry?
Yeah…Harry is my girlfriend's…father.
Why do you say it like that? 'Girlfriend'?
Paul watched as Sam's mind flashed to a picture of a familiar looking Native American girl. She was pretty, especially through Sam's thoughts. Paul stumbled a little as he watched Sam's mind flash to her long, raven colored hair, her dark brown, almond shaped eyes…her long, shapely legs…her perfect tan breasts…
Holy shit! Paul laughed.
Crap! Fuck, I did not mean to think about that…shit…
What the fuck was that?
The black wolf tucked his tail between his legs and Paul watched in awe as Sam tried unsuccessfully to push the thought of Leah's breasts to the back of his mind.
Wait no, I wanna see that, that chick is hot-
Paul didn't have time to finish the thought before Sam snarled and bared his teeth. He lunged at Paul, and he panicked for a brief second. Then, something else entirely happened.
Paul jumped to attention, the hair on his hackles rising up. He heard an awful snort and then a deep, guttural warning growl that was so terrifying it almost scared him.
Take it back! Sam ordered.
What? Paul feigned innocence.
You heard me! Take it back! Sam grumbled.
She's hot, man, not gonna lie…Paul thought menacingly. Sam snapped mid-air at his flank, and Paul skittered out of the way. He raised up his paw as he tried in vain to punch the wolf in front of him, and he grew even more angry when he heard Sam laugh at him in his head.
Nice try, pup, Sam sneered.
Come over here and say that! Paul shot back, feeling his ears flatten. Sam lunged at him then, sending them toppling over each other on the rocky beach. The first time Sam's jaws bit down on his new, tough flesh, Paul yelped out more in surprise than pain.
Serves you right!
If you didn't want me to see it, then why did you show it to me? Paul asked as he rolled to his feet. He shook his head, trying to get his bearings back.
It was an accident, you ass! Now stop thinking about it! Leah will kill me and I'm already in enough shit as it is.
She mad that you're sharing? Paul jeered.
Paul watched again as Sam thought about all the late nights, cancelled dates, and unexplained absences flashing through his mind.
That sucks, bro.
Yeah, I'm in enough trouble, so stop fucking thinking about my girlfriend naked!
You started it…and no complaints here, by the way. I'll have to say hi to her at school tomorrow, Paul laughed.
Sam growled at him, a vicious snort escaping from his black snout. I already don't like you…
Never said you had to, Paul sneered.
He heard Sam sigh in his head. You have no idea…
Paul thought for a moment, the mental picture of a naked Leah popping up to the front of his mind. Sam lunged at him again, his eyes black as coal and his teeth bared once again.
x-X-x-X-x-X-x
Paul glared at Sam through his new eyes.
The two had finished their scuffle and were licking their rapidly healing wounds back in the woods at Paul's campsite.
Was that really necessary?
Think about it again and I'll kick your ass, Sam growled to him.
Paul ran his rough tongue over a gash in his paw that Sam had left with his teeth.
This is disgusting, he said with a wince as he licked at the blood.
It helps it heal faster. Stop whining.
Paul moved to sit up on his haunches, quickly forming questions in his mind.
Okay…so how do we change back?
Sam looked up at him from his own battle wounds, and began to pant nervously. Paul watched as he tried to push certain memories of living like a wolf for days at a time from his mind. Paul felt himself begin to panic.
What do you mean? It's hard to switch back? Will I be like this forever?
Sam sighed in his head. No. It isn't permanent. If you concentrate and calm yourself, you can change back. It's like…riding a bike.
Spare me, Paul snapped.
Fine then. I'm just saying...it gets easier to change back.
Okay, so how do I do it?
You probably won't be able to for a few days. It took me three or four days to calm down enough to do it.
Okay… Paul shifted on the ground, his head darting to the side when he noticed his tail moving beside him.
It's involuntary, Sam thought to him. He glanced down at his own tail, which was now lying flat on the ground.
Weird, Paul thought. Okay, so you've told me the how…now tell me the why.
Paul watched once again as Sam tried to push thoughts out of his mind.
Why are you doing that?
Doing what?
Trying not to think about…what is that? What…
Sam winced as images flashed through his mind of meetings with the tribal elders. They had sat Sam down and told him about why he changed..
You've got to be shitting me.
Sam sighed in his head. I wish I was. It's all true…the legends and stories…the cold ones.
You mean…there really are such a thing as vampires?
I'm afraid so. That is why we change, and that is why you and I have begun to phase. They're back in the area, more rampant than ever, and it's our duty as wolves to protect our people.
Just like the legends..
Yes.
Paul's mind reeled again as he fought to bring back the memories of the stories he had heard about their tribe. They had always been taught that the cold ones were so evil…
Sam brought back the memory of the broken, drained body he had found a few weeks before, showing Paul the bite marks on her mangled neck.
Leeches, Paul thought bitterly. That's what they are.
Sam nodded his wolf head, and the two were silent for awhile as Paul tried to come to terms with everything.
The legends were true. He was a werewolf…or shape shifter, as Sam called it. He was there to kill the cold ones.
The vampires.
x-X-x-X-x-X-x
For being as angry as he originally was, Paul was able to phase back after several hours. He winced in agony as his bones shifted and retracted, being sucked back into his spine. He was left on the ground in a quivering mass, his hazel eyes wide.
Standing up, he stretched and examined his tan skin. There were no marks from phasing, nor were there marks from fighting with Sam.
Wow…I'm normal again. This is fucked up.
He watched in amazement as the black wolf crouched slightly, morphing quickly into the body of a tall, tan-skinned, naked teenage boy. Sam gracefully went from all fours to standing upright in a matter of a few seconds.
He looked up at Paul, and Paul instantly recognized him. "Oh, I do know you!" he said after a few moments.
Sam looked at him strangely, then shook his head. "Here," he mumbled, tossing him a pair of worn basketball shorts. Paul looked down, a surprised gasp escaping his lips when he realized that he was naked.
"What the-"
"Can't phase with clothes on – they get destroyed every time," Sam explained, pulling on his shorts.
Paul made a disgusted face and pulled on his own pair, standing upright. "Wow…I'm not even cold!"
Sam shook his head again as he wiped some dirt off his arms and torso. "Nah…the heat from the phase keeps us warm. Harry said my temperature is close to 107."
"Are you shitting me? How are we not…dead?"
Sam just shrugged. "No idea. How do we turn into giant dogs? Again…no idea."
Paul looked around the darkening forest, his eyes adjusting. "Wow…I can like…see and hear everything."
"Yeah…just a perk."
"Man…people aren't gonna believe this-"
Sam's large hand slammed against Paul's chest, surprising him. "No," he said firmly. "You cannot tell anyone about this. This is a tribe secret – only the elders know."
Paul looked at him in surprise. "Oh…fine," he grumbled, stepping away from Sam's hand. Sam looked sorry that he had been so blunt, but quickly shook it off.
Both boys glanced up at the trees that veiled the sky, surveying the light rain that had begun to fall.
"You can come stay at my place," he said. "My mom won't care…much."
"I don't wanna put you out," Paul spat out, still surprised that a guy he barely knew would offer such a thing.
Sam stopped walking and turned to look at him skeptically. "You have somewhere else to be?"
Paul thought a moment, glancing back at his long extinguished campfire and pile of belongings that were quickly getting soaked by the late evening mist.
"No," he said quietly, dipping his head. He strode back to the campsite, picking up his belongings and slinging them over his shoulder.
Sam watched, a somber look on his face. The two boys walked through the woods, barefoot and shirtless all the way back to Sam's mother's house, which wasn't far from the beach. They walked inside, and Sam led him to the couch where he would be sleeping.
"We have to meet with the elders tomorrow morning," Sam said. "They need to know about you."
Paul sat down on the soft couch, his tired body grateful to have a place to rest for a moment. "Cool. So…what do we do now?"
Sam just shrugged. "I usually patrol at night…that's when they come out and tend to strike. Harry mentioned that they can't be seen in the sunlight. I guess it gives them away."
"Really?"
Sam nodded. "Yeah…but…he also said that on a cloudy day they can come out, too. That's why they like it here – barely any sun, plenty of rain…they can pretend to be human."
"How will I know?"
Sam's nose winkled up as he stared blankly at the floor. "You'll know," he said softly.
The two boys sat there for a few hours, talking about the legends, the cold ones, and about being a wolf. Paul was still a little panicked about the whole thing, but tried his best to act like his normal macho self.
"How in the world did you do this by yourself?" Paul finally asked him as Sam settled into the armchair. He reclined back, sinking into the leather.
"It was…interesting. I freaked."
"Um, yeah…no shit," Paul muttered, lying down on the couch. Sam smiled to himself, but his tan face still looked drawn…and tired.
"It was very tough. I mean…I disappear all the time to go to meet with the tribal elders, and even though my mom still thinks I've gone crazy she knows that they're…'helping' me."
"Does she think…?"
"She thinks it was drugs. I disappeared for days and came back and I couldn't say what had happened. They all thought I was nuts."
Paul nodded. "I still feel like I'm dreaming," He admitted, listening to the sounds of the rain on the rooftop.
"Rest assured that you are not. That's what the hard part is. I had to figure out what to tell my mom, and Leah…luckily Harry was my boss at work."
"Was?"
"Yeah…" Sam said slowly, folding his hands behind his back. "I mean, you can't go to work. You shouldn't even really be around people for awhile. Not until you get things under control. It took me months to figure out how all of this…worked."
"Won't your mom be home soon?" Paul asked. Sam nodded.
"Yeah…"
"She won't mind I'm here?"
He shrugged. "She might, but what's she gonna do? I'll just tell her you needed a place to crash."
Paul looked at him, giving him a grateful nod. He was still a little weirded out by the idea of just crashing at a random dude's place, but anything was better than sleeping out in the rain. He would take what he could get.
x-X-x-X-x-X-x
The next day, the two boys went and met with Harry Clearwater and Quil Sr. so that Paul could hear the legends again from Old Quil. Harry also explained to him the importance of protecting the tribe, and all that went along with it. Paul listened carefully as the two men spoke to him, and had begun to accept his fate.
"My boy…you two have been chosen by the forefathers of this tribe to continue on with the tradition of protecting the innocents from the demons that dwell nearby," Old Quil said with an official nod.
Paul glanced at Sam, and the two of them looked somberly ahead at Harry and Quil. Harry nodded in encouragement at Paul, and then Old Quil continued.
"You are now brothers, bound by the powers of the tribe. Go now, and rely on each other to protect and serve your people," he finished.
Paul nodded and stuttered out what Quileute farewells he could remember, and then he saw Sam stand to leave. Once inside Sam's truck, he looked over at him.
"Scared yet?"
Paul's determination flared up. "Hah, no. If they say that's what I'm meant to do, then I'll do it, simple as that."
Sam just clicked his tongue and turned onto the main road in La Push, headed east.
"Where we going?"
"I have an idea," he said, pulling onto a dead end road. They arrived at a small, shabby looking house, and Paul glanced over at him strangely.
"Why do I have a bad feeling about this?"
x-X-x-X-x-X-x
An hour later, Paul glanced down at his arm as he and Sam drove back to the house.
"It's already healed!" he exclaimed, rubbing the pad of his finger over the slightly-raised ink.
Sam glanced at the new tattoo gracing his own arm and nodded. "Figures."
"Wow," Paul mumbled, pulling his sleeve down. He and Sam had just gone to the house of a guy that Sam used to work with, and the two of them had gotten tattoos.
"It's the symbol of our tribe since before anyone can remember…I figured it was fitting," Sam explained.
Paul glanced over at Sam's arm, the black ink peeking out from under his sleeve in the tribal tattoo.
"It's fuckin' sweet!" he laughed, hanging his arm out the window.
"It'll be a reminder, I guess."
"Yeah…so…who else is joining this little band we got goin'? Who's next?"
Sam frowned at the road as he drove, turning onto his own lane. "Let's hope we're the last ones."
Paul snorted. "What? Why's that? Come on, man, this is cool. I get it now – protectors. Tribal warriors…it's awesome. Why wouldn't you want more people?"
Sam parked in the driveway, slamming the door shut behind him. He leaned over the hood at Paul, and spoke low.
"More wolves means more bloodsuckers. That isn't good news for us," he said in a quiet, sure voice.
Paul kicked the tire at his feet, the toe of his borrowed boot bouncing off the rubber. "Yeah but…people are gonna start thinking we're like…gay or something if it's just the two of us, always hanging around in our shorts."
Sam rolled his eyes and walked inside where his mother was cooking dinner. It was a Saturday, so she had been home all day, and the boys had tried to avoid her as best as they could.
"Hi, boys," his mother said, eying Paul as he walked by her. She glanced up at Sam, and he gave her a tight smile.
"Hey mom," Sam muttered, touching her elbow. He grabbed a loaf of bread, a butter knife, and a jar of peanut butter off the counter and took it into the living room.
"We're going to eat soon!" she yelled after him. Sam's face broke into a grin and he gave her a wink.
"I'm a growing boy!" he shot back playfully. She stared after him for a second, then her face slowly broke into a worn looking, tired smile.
"Okay then," she said softly, stirring the pot on the stove in front of her. Paul didn't miss the confused look on the woman's face.
Sam walked into the living room where Paul was already sprawled on the couch, and he began making himself a sandwich.
"You hungry?" he asked Paul.
Paul glanced down at his stomach and noticed that it was gurgling in a funny manner. "Yeah, guess so. Come to think of it…I'm always hungry nowadays."
Sam just nodded again in his silent, somber manner and leaned back in the armchair. Paul slapped his sandwich together and chewed thoughtfully for a moment.
"Aren't you gonna do something with your girlfriend tonight? Leah?"
"Why?"
Paul shrugged. "It's a Saturday. Just…figured. You've been cooped up with me for a whole day and half, I figured you'd want to see her."
Sam thought a moment, then nodded. "She's kinda mad at me for how I've been acting lately…but, I should go see her.
Sam rolled his eyes and shoved the rest of the sandwich in his mouth. "Whatever. No…um...I figured we could go hang out in La Push, maybe see if we can tell if anyone else is…about to change."
Paul nodded. "Yeah yeah…that's fine. Can we phase again?"
Sam shrugged. "I guess. Why?"
"I just wanted to see if I could really do it again is all."
"Trust me, you can."
x-X-x-X-x-X-x
The next week passed by in a blur for Paul. Sam did escape a few times to visit Leah, but for the most part, he was busy helping Paul master the art of phasing.
Paul had inadvertently destroyed most of Sam's clothes that were given to him on loan, and he still had trouble controlling his short temper at times. The week passed by quickly as the two spent hours watching the La Push teens from the woods, waiting for the next sign of who was to phase next.
Sam suggested that Paul take a few weeks off of school, so Harry Clearwater had called up to the reservation high school to tell them that Paul had mono. They were all grateful that Harry was such a respected member of the tribe, for no one questioned Paul's absence once.
Paul was even more amazed with his wolf traits. He loved running and patrolling for leeches; the more the elders told him about the vampires, the more he wanted to actually catch and destroy one.
They had been hunting several of them for a few weeks now. Each time the trails got closer and closer to La Push, further igniting Paul's rage. He never had any trouble phasing into a wolf; phasing back, however, was a lot harder.
It was the next Saturday, officially eight days after he had first phased. Paul sat on the couch at Sam's house, his eyes darting up to the clock as another episode of COPS came on. He was antsy for Sam to get back from wherever he was with Leah so that they could go phase and patrol for more vamps.
Where did he go? Makah? Stupid, Paul thought, tapping the remote against his tan knee.
Another episode came on a half hour later, and Paul stood and went to the window to look. Where the hell was Sam? Wasn't he just going to a birthday party?
His question was answered a few minutes later when Sam burst through the front door, his dark eyes hollow and blank looking. He stood there for a few moments, his hands shaking. Paul stood up and walked over to him, giving him a strange look.
"Sam? You okay?"
"What?" Sam asked, looking up at him. He would start to show the faint traces of a smile, then he would quickly look away and frown…and then the process would repeat.
"Where have you been? Didn't you just go to a birthday party for a toddler?"
Sam gave him a blank stare, then he broke into a smile. "Yeah...uh…shit…Leah's…second cousin...once...removed…I don't know," he mumbled, running a hand through his short, black hair.
Paul looked at him as he raced into the kitchen and quickly grabbed a glass off the counter, filling it with water. He filled it to the top and chugged it down quickly, turning to lean on the counter once he was finished.
"What the fuck is the matter with you?" Paul asked, giving him a bewildered look. He tried to catch Sam's blank stare, but he was unsuccessful.
Slowly, a smile crept onto the large, tan face in front of him. "I have no idea," he stuttered.
"Um, try to explain," Paul snapped, crossing his arms in front of him.
Sam sat down at the table, and Paul followed, sitting down across from him. He watched as Sam stared off into space, a completely blank, open mouthed stare consuming him.
Paul was quickly losing his patience. "Did you like…get struck by fucking lightning, or what? What the fuck is wrong with you?"
Sam's gaze moved sluggishly over to Paul, and he blinked several times. Then, a strange, giddy sounding giggle fell from his lips. Paul frowned. Normally, Sam was calm, reserved, and in control, almost stoic. This made no sense.
"I…I met a girl," Sam stuttered, the same stupid smile creeping onto his face. Paul looked at him in strange wonder, shaking his head.
"Um, so? You went to a family birthday party and met a girl…like, your cousin? I don't…what are you talking about?"
Sam shook his head. "No no no...it's Leah's family…it was…it was her cousin."
"Um, congrats? You met your girlfriend's cousin. Is that supposed to be significant?" Paul snapped.
Sam's head whipped up and he frowned. "Wait…Leah…Leah? Crap…Leah. My girlfriend…uhhh….we need to go talk to Old Quil."
Paul made another disgusted face as he followed Sam out of the kitchen and to the front yard. He shook his head as they stripped down and tied their clothes to their legs, both preparing to phase.
"Dude, what the hell is this about?" Paul snapped once they were about to change into their wolf forms.
Sam shook his head and let the tremors overtake him. Paul soon followed, figuring that Sam wouldn't be able to hide it in his head on the run to Old Quil's house.
Paul felt the familiar heat tingle up his spine as he prepared to let the wolf overtake him. Phasing got less and less painful every time he did it now, and it practically felt good at this point – it felt like it worked out all the aches and kinks of being a human teenager, for nothing really hurt when he was in wolf form. If something was sore or bruised, it healed much quicker as a wolf, and it was almost therapeutic for him to make the change now.
Once he hit the ground on all fours, he began to follow Sam as the two of them darted through the woods. Paul let one part of his mind pay attention to the rapidly passing ground beneath him, while the other side listened in on Sam's thoughts.
However, Sam was only having one thought at the moment, and it wasn't really one he understood.
Emily. Emily. Emily.
Paul's mind searched Sam's memory for what happened at the birthday party and just those two words were enough to send off a switch in Sam's mind.
Paul watched from Sam's mind as he finally gave in and replayed the memory for him.
Your guess is as good as mine, Sam thought absently at they ran.
Paul observed as Sam remembered walking into the Makah house, surrounded by all of Leah's family members. They were there for Leah's second cousin Claire's first birthday party, and the house was all a bustle with people saying hello and greeting each other. Then…something else happened.
Leah's mother, Sue, introduced Sam to Leah's cousin. Emily.
Paul sucked in a breath as Sam remembered touching the teenage girl's hand. A feeling of a deliciously hot but wonderful fiery feeling zinged up his hand and his arm, wrapping itself around his heart. His eyes dilated to fully take in the sight of the angelic looking, tan skinned creature in front of him as a heated flush rose in her shapely cheeks. Sue said the girl's name, and it echoed in his head.
Emily.
Paul tried to snap himself out of it and away from Sam's mind as they ran towards Old Quil's little house on the edge of town. He tried to keep his thoughts quiet as he let Sam do his own internal thinking. For once, Paul didn't know what to say or think.
Both boys pulled on their clothes and walked up to the porch, Paul glancing sideways at Sam as he worriedly rapped on the wooden door.
Old Quil fumbled around for a few moments before yanking the door open, his dark eyes falling on a panicked looking Sam and an even more confused Paul.
"Quil," Sam breathed, bursting inside. The old man jumped out of the way, his old face drawn and worried.
"What is it, boy? Has another changed?" He asked gruffly.
Sam shook his head, and the three of them rushed into the kitchen to sit down at his worn, round table.
"What is it?" Old Quil prodded. Sam looked at him worriedly, his face drawn and tired looking.
"I…I…feel like I got hit by lightning…but I like it," Sam mumbled, looking at him. "I met this girl up in Makah today…and she's all I can think about. I…I don't know why. I feel funny...I mean, great…I mean…I don't know how I feel. What…what happened to me?" He asked the old man.
Suddenly, Old Quil's face lit up and he smiled, his dry lips stretching across his teeth. He laughed, and it was a low, guttural sounding joy. "My boy…you didn't get struck by lightning. You've gone and imprinted."
x-X-x-X-x-X-x
There! I hope Paul didn't disappoint. I know a LOT of Sam's story was woven into Paul's, but there were a lot of things that I wanted to bring up. The mental link, imprinting, wolves learning how to fight, etc…fingers crossed that you guys didn't mind hearing a lot more about Sam. The future stories (Embry, Jake) will all talk more about vampires and learning to fight and hunt them. I just wanted Sam and Paul's story to maybe focus on something different. Jared's story just might have a little fluff in it too!;)
Well anyway, like I said, I know there was a lot of Sam in this story, but I had my reasons for that. As his beta and second in command, I figured that it was important to show how their relationship grew and how it was maybe slightly awkward at first. Pardon my 'isn't this kinda gay' reference that Paul makes. I could definitely see Paul being a wise ass and making fun of their situation of two young, muscular tan men running around in the woods together – sometimes clothed, sometimes not. You get the picture.
And if you noticed it – before Paul phases, he spent one night outside in the woods and is awoken by a sweet, strange smell. I decided that Victoria or Laurent might have strayed too close to him while he was sleeping, smelled him, and moved on. Remember, wolves don't really smell appetizing to vampires. I thought this would have helped trigger his first phase. Just a fun little tidbit.
Remember, I'm going in order of when the characters were changed. For the wolves, my research says that the timeline goes in this order:
Sam
Paul
Jared
Embry
Jake
Quil
Leah
Seth
Collin
Brady
And don't forget! There will also be a Bella and Renesmee chapter, along with a bonus chapter at the end. I won't say who it is, but guesses are more than welcome.