A.N. Ok so last chapter I decided to take some weight off of Steph's shoulders but I think I'll pile it all back on now ;)

Steph's POV

"Steph? Why are you staring at me like that?" Dad asked her. Steph snapped out of her astounded stare and smiled warmly at her father. The man, who she had just discovered was a werewolf; she ran to him and engulfed him in a tight hug.

"What's up with you?" Jamal asked her with a wide smile. Steph giggled into his chest and squeezed tighter.

"Ouch Steph, a little tight there." He continued as he tied to pry her arms away from his back. Steph laughed, she knew that she couldn't really hurt him.

Steph cackled maniacally as she padded up the stairs tiredly and into her bedroom where she re-applied her make-up. She didn't wear much, she never did; just some concealer and lip gloss. She turned from her small mirror and gave her books a sideways glance; the items that she thought were her creations. She couldn't help but wonder why, there were so many whys. Why her? After all, there were many people in this world, why boring old 'doesn't have a life' Stephanie Meyer?

Although, she was grateful to have been 'chosen'; she didn't understand what she was supposed to do, she didn't feel like it was right. Was she supposed to stand idly by while the inevitable events unfolded? And if that was the case, why was this happening? Wouldn't that make Steph kind of redundant? For a second, she thought, maybe she was psychic but it faded quickly; she wouldn't believe it.

She wouldn't let herself believe that she was anything more than human, not because she was afraid but because she didn't want to excite herself only to find out that she was totally 'normal'. That thought alone made her want to cringe. Normal. Stephanie had no idea what was happening but she knew that she would have to find out, sooner or later… preferably sooner. There was one thing that bothered her though, was it all her? Did she actually write these books?

Or was there some higher or stronger force manipulating her brain or something? Steph quickly stuffed the stories into a small duffle bag and slung it over her shoulder, she then proceeded to making her way downstairs towards Jamal who was leaning in the doorway, twisting his car keys in his hand.

"What's with the bag?" He asked as he flashed her his signature smirk; it reminded Steph of how young he was. For a moment, her heart broke, how old was he? She hoped he had been at least sixteen when he phased, giving away his whole life. She didn't think she would have been able to smooch it, if she found out that he had been thirteen, much like Collin and Brady.

"Just some stuff that I might need to use while I'm there." She answered, trying to hide the chagrin that washed through her body like a cold wave of guilt; she walked past him and into the car before he could say anything.

The ride to the bonfire was torturing Steph, at some points she felt like they were moving at one mile an hour, she just wanted to get it over with. Then she'd think through it again and suddenly she wanted to avoid the whole thing; then it felt like she was moving at one hundred miles per hour. If her calculations were right, she would see all of them. Sam, Paul, Jared. Her Paul, she wondered if it was healthy to have a crush on one of her characters. She shuffled uncomfortably in her seat; she seemed to be experiencing a hot flush of some kind.

"Dad, could you turn down the heating?" She growled at him, they to forget about the prickly heat; her father smiled back knowingly, Steph couldn't understand why he did.

"The heating isn't on Steph." Jamal told her seriously then turned back to the road ahead. Steph shuffled again, the anxiety of it all was taking over her body. So much so that she experienced something that she had never before, she felt dirty, like there was something crawling under her skin; trying it's best to get out. Steph scratched her arms roughly, removing at least one layer of skin in one part; luckily for her, they had arrived.

She turned in her seat and pulled out the duffel from the back. Her knees buckled lightly as she left the car; her hands clutched onto Jamal's arm almost painfully, he hissed but didn't say a word. As they approached the fire, she saw them. All of them; and she knew every single one. It was just how she'd expected, the council members and the wolf pack. Her heart beat increased.

"Steph?" Her grip on his arm loosened considerably

"Im fine dad." She answers, her voice contradicting her words.

"You don't sound fine." Jamal mumbled quietly under his breath; Steph heard him. Once they reached the circle, all eyes were on them; Jamal said some kind of greeting in Quilieute that Steph wouldn't even attempt to pronounce; instead she let out a mumbles 'hi'.

Her dad led them to a vacant log next to the pack; it happened to be the one place where Stephanie was hoping not to sit. Her father nodded to Sam who returned the gesture but his nod was somewhat more respectful; Jared and Paul followed Sam's lead. Steph had a feeling that she was missing something; something so obvious that it was undetectable to only her eyes; if that was even possible.

Steph smiled and waved awkwardly at everyone around the fire, most of them smiled. Well, everyone except Old Quil who kept a permanent grimace on his face. Steph swallowed thickly, she knew from her books that Old Quil wasn't fond of outsiders; he believed that if you weren't one hundred percent Quilieute, you weren't 'pure' enough to be part of the tribe. No exceptions. She smiled sweetly at him, determined to win him over one way or another. According to her, he had to like her; everybody likes her. Unfortunately, that was proved untrue; his expression had not changed… at all.

Billy welcomed everyone to the bonfire and began to tell the stories, from the beginning. Even though Steph had heard them before, dream-o-vision, as she had called it, was nothing compared to seeing it live.

"In the beginning, the tribe settled in this harbour and became skilled ship builders and fishermen. But the tribe was small, and the harbour was rich in fish. There were others who coveted our land, and we were too small to hold it. A larger tribe moved against us, and we took to our ships to escape them.

Kaheleha was not the first spirit warrior, but we do not remember the stories that came before his. We do not remember who was the first to discover this power, or how it had been used before this crisis. Kaheleha was the first Great Spirit Chief in our history. In this emergency, Kaheleha used the magic to defend our land. He and all his warriors left the ship — not their bodies, but their spirits.

Their women watched over the bodies and the waves, and the men took their spirits back to our harbour. They could not physically touch the enemy tribe, but they had other ways. The stories tell us that they could blow fierce winds into their enemy's camps; they could make a great screaming in the wind that terrified their foes. The stories also tell us that the animals could see the spirit warriors and understand them; the animals would do their bidding.

Kaheleha took his spirit army and wreaked havoc on the intruders. This invading tribe had packs of big, thick-furred dogs that they used to pull their sleds in the frozen north. The spirit warriors turned the dogs against their masters and then brought a mighty infestation of bats up from the cliff caverns. They used the screaming wind to aid the dogs in confusing the men. The dogs and bats won. The survivors scattered, calling our harbour a cursed place. The dogs ran wild when the spirit warriors released them. The Quilieute returned to their bodies and their wives, victorious.

The other nearby tribes, the Hohs and the Makahs, made treaties with the Quilieutes. They wanted nothing to do with our magic. We lived in peace with them. When an enemy came against us, the spirit warriors would drive them off."

At that moment, Steph became a proud woman, proud that she was Quilieute; proud that her ancestors could do these things. Billy then told the story of the Third Wife, Steph listened intently, it was her favourite story of all; her face turned downwards when it was over.

"Trouble with the cold ones was rare from that time on. Taha Aki's sons guarded the tribe until their sons were old enough to take their places. There were never more than three wolves at a time. It was enough. Occasionally a blood drinker would come through these lands, but they were taken by surprise, not expecting the wolves.

Sometimes a wolf would die, but never were they decimated again like that first time. They'd learned how to fight the cold ones, and they passed the knowledge on, wolf mind to wolf mind, spirit to spirit, father to son. Time passed, and the descendants of Taha Aki no longer became wolves when they reached manhood. Only in a great while, if a cold one was near, would the wolves return. The cold ones always came in ones and twos, and the pack stayed small…"

Stephanie's mind strayed at that point but not because she was bored; it was because something was bothering her. She didn't understand why she was here at this particular bonfire, hearing these particular stories. What was so special about her? She cast her mind back in time in order to find something, anything that would help her to figure it out.

That was it, she knew. A lonely tear escaped her eye, but she had no idea why' she wasn't sad, so why was she crying? Tears of joy perhaps?

"What's wrong Stephanie?" Her dad asked worriedly, there was an edge in his voice; his eyes followed another falling tear.

"I'm hurt dad. That's what's wrong. Why didn't you tell me?" Steph whispered back, from the corner of her eye, she could see Sam eavesdropping conspicuously on their conversation.

"Tell you what?" Jamal asked warily; his voice was careful.

"How could you not trust me with a secret like this dad? I trust you with everything." Steph knew that she was being dramatic; she knew that she would, most likely, burst into uncontrollable laughter at any second. Jamal's eye brows rose.

"I know you're a werewolf. I also know that I'm one too…. Well not yet." Stephanie whispered back; Sam shuffled closer to them.

"How did you find out?" Dad asked her, Billy had stopped talking.

"I found out the minute I put pen to paper."

Thoughts?
What do you think?

OOO, cryptic.

Any idea on where the story should go next.

Do you want Steph to imprint?

Or who do you want her to be imprinted on?

Or should she be a solo wolf?

Reviews please.