Can anyone guess what is going to happen yet?

Comments:

ThisIsHope: I put crying in the same category and laughing. After all, to laugh you have to be able to take breath into your lungs. She can laugh, so I think she'd be able to cry. It's not that she can't breathe, it just serves no purpose. Also, I try not to be too detailed because it can get boring, but hopefully I'm adding the right amount. Thanks for the review!

Paul's POV

Lizzy disappears from sight faster than I am even able to follow. It was like one second she was here and the next she was gone. I sigh out loud, rubbing my forehead tiredly. Perhaps I should have broken it to her easier, but I wasn't thinking about that when I read it. I'm not the most thoughtful of guys, I was just doing what she asked me to. I can't even smell her to find her; she has no scent. I shake myself, before deciding to do something more useful. Maybe I can find what the last charm means. I hope she knows how much I am sacrificing for her. I haven't opened a book since seventh grade, at least not of my own choosing.

Dusting the old volume off I read off the title: "The Study of Symbols and Their Meanings Throughout History."

I'm probably going to make it about three pages into this book before calling it quits, and that's being generous. I can barely read things I like, let alone the things I don't. I've got to suck it up though, I want her to feel better. Okay, first step: read the table of contents. It, of course, doesn't help me at all. I read the first page before I start skimming throughout the whole book. Frustrated, I slam the book closed with a growl. It startles the librarian, her eyes widening into almost perfect, symmetrical circles. I run a hand through my hair before jumping up and walking over to her. The poignant smell of fear hits the air, and I notice her breath stops a moment before I'm at her desk. I scowl, attempting to think of a way to appear less daunting. Another waif of fear hits me and I fix my scowl into a relaxed expression before giving her my best Paul Lahote smile.

"I was wondering if you could help me with something." I grin winningly, and her fear lessons. She stares at my teeth in apprehension, and I close my lips over them. Kim has told me before not to show teeth when I smile. Apparently it's frightening. I didn't believe her until now.

"Uh-yeah, sure. What can I help you with?" She straightens her back, and pulls on a strict, no nonsense expression.

"I'm looking for a certain symbol, and I was wondering if you could help me with that." I can tell the oddness of my request throws her off, but she shrugs before grabbing a piece of paper.

"What kind of symbol is it?"

"That's the problem. I don't know."

A displeased frown tugs at her lips. "What does it look like then? What does it mean?"

"I don't know what it means, but I know what it looks like." I gesture with a hand towards the piece of paper, and she hands it over to me. I hand it back when I finish and I can tell by the look on her face it doesn't ring any bells.

"Do you know where it's from? As in what culture?"

"No clue."

She tilts her head to the side in question, turn the paper this way and that trying to make sense of it. "It looks like it's a Native American symbol, but I could be wrong. I'll be back, I'm going to ask the head librarian."

She trails off from her desk, her scent of fear all but gone and in its place curiosity. She's still turning the paper a matter of different ways as she disappears into the office. A few minutes later she comes back out, this time with an older woman. Her back is curved with age and she walks with a small gait, almost wobbling. I recognize her immediately. She used to be on the council of elders, but retired about five years ago. Those five years have not been kind. She used to be small but sprightly, now she's hunched and tiredness radiates from her in waves.

"Hello Paul." She gives me a knowing look, as if she can see straight through me. She probably can knowing her. It's almost impossible to lie to her. Somehow she always knows, and she's fond of whacking the lies out of people so most of the time people don't bother to lie around her.

I swallow, my throat feeling parched from nerves. If I had known she was here I would not have come so easily. Even now, the woman frightens me. It's ridiculous, considering the fact that if she were to hit me she'd most likely only hurt herself. I'd barely feel it. "Hello," I murmur in answer.

"This symbol, what is it you want to know about it?" She gets straight to the point. Age doesn't change that about her.

I clear my throat once again before answering. "I want to know its meaning."

In the folds of her face sit shinning eyes. Young eyes in an old body, as if her spirit has not yet processed how late in life she is. She turns thoughtful, a frown pulling at her mouth making the wrinkles even more pronounced.

"It's a symbol, a word, in our history." She gives me a look, not quite blaming but not happy either. "Many of our people do not even speak our language anymore. We lose our roots more and more with each generation, and no matter what we do it does not seem to slow the process. We make Quileute mandatory in our schools, yet even our young cannot hold a full conversation in Quileute. It is tiring." And her eyes show it.

"I'm sorry." I'm not sure exactly what to say, and that is all that comes to mind. She sends me a weighted look, before switching to Quileute.

"You know our language son." It's not a question, but I answer anyways.

"Yes."

"But even with that it is not enough. This is a word in Quileute." Her answers stuns me, and my movements cease. Is it really that simple? If that's true then everything seems meant to be, like she's supposed to be here. It's all falling into place.

"What does it mean?" Desperation is clear in my voice. I don't even bother hiding it as I grip the counter. It makes a cracking noise and I immediately loosen my grip. Even now her eyes are knowing, leaving me bare to her in a way that I'm not sure I'm comfortable with.

She knows. She knows I am a spirit warrior. I can see it in her eyes. I can also see she understands how much this knowledge means to me.

"I will give you a deal young one. Promise me you will always fight to keep our culture alive, and I will tell you what you wish to know."

"But I don't have the power to-" I trail off, realizing what she means when her eyes stare steadily into mine. It's not about power, it's about will. I have to have the will to do this. I can't lie, not to her. So how important is this information to me? How far am I willing to go? It's like I am standing on the edge of a precipice and once I pick a road there is no turning back.

"I accept." It's like a power radiates through me with the words, making me feel stronger. Where I was once dangling and unsure of my future, I know now. For the first time in a while I feel completely and utterly…

Calm.

It's an odd feeling, one I'm not used to.

She smiles in triumph, both of us happy with the deal. "The symbol you wish to know is of great importance to us, for it means life. It makes our crops grow, allows our children to flourish, and gives us meaning in a world that can be bleak." She turns her back to me, her slow but sure gait walking back to the office.

Life.

"Elder Onawa! Wait!" My shout brings all the attention to me, but it's not like there's a lot of people here though. Only two, both hiding in the corners of the room. I ignore them both, hurrying over to where she stands. Even with her back sloping she radiates strength. "Will you teach me to read Quileute?" I feel breathless and jittery as I ask. A pleased smile pulls at the folds of her face, triumphant in nature.

"I would love to Paul Lahote. Lessons start every Tuesday and Thursday." She doesn't bother to check and see if I'm free those days. She knows I'll make room somehow. She's just that confident.

When she disappears it's like she takes all the strength in the room with her. I slump against the wall, and wonder exactly what I am doing and what I am trying to prove. Out of all the people on this reservation, why did she choose me? I'm not a leader like Sam, and I'm not strong like Jacob. I'm not smart like Jared or fast like Leah. I'm not much of anything. I won't be able to convince our people of the importance of holding onto our culture. If the elders cannot even do it, how can I?

Even as I ask this the answer is apparent, at first it's a silent and weak idea and then slowly grows in strength as I begin to believe the chant.

Because I am not one, but all.

I have a little of each of them in me. If I can keep balance, then maybe one day this will work and I will have upheld my promise to Elder Onawa.

I don't see Lizzy for almost a month. After two weeks of avid searching I begin to slow, and once it hits the three week mark all I do is glance around when I'm out. It's like she took part of me when she disappeared. I don't like the analogy of the statement, but I know it's true. I didn't realize I had began to depend on her until she left. She somehow always made me feel happy and better about myself, even as she annoyed me.

What is she is gone forever?

I bury the thought, labeling it as negative and refusing to believe it. She must come back. She has to. She has my tribes symbol dangling from her wrist and she is somehow part of us because of the fact. I refuse to believe anything else. She must come back.

My pack notices a difference in me, and they attribute it to the conversation I had with Elder Onawa. They're less guarded around me, and less afraid. They're willing to joke with me, where before they were careful with their words just in case they somehow angered me. Part of that reason is of course because of Elder Onawa, but the other part is Lizzy.

I haven't missed someone since my pops died.

I didn't always call him that, but when I was little I watched a cartoon where one of the characters called their dad pops, and the nickname stuck. He laughed when I first used it, ruffling my hair with a smile and shaking his head.

I miss Elizabeth.

Even with death she's so alive, amusing herself with the oddest things. I can tell not being able to touch pains her, and even though she claims that being in a half-life is what's worse I know what really is. What bothers her isn't the fact that she's dead, but the fact that she cannot feel or touch. If it weren't for that I don't think she'd hate being dead as much. She wants to help so much, but she can't. Not even a little. It kills her. I don't even think she realizes that is what she misses most, and what she hates the most too. I didn't see it at first, but I do now.

Life.

What a cruel reminder to put on her.

But maybe it is about her spirit, and how lively it is.

The bracelet tells the story of her un-dead life. Once she died the red poppy fell off as if it had fulfilled its role. The same thing happened with the wolf. I still have it tucked in my sock drawer shoved in the furthest corner. I never told her I kept it. I wasn't sure if she'd be happy or sad to see it again, so I kept it to myself.

Maybe life is literal.

Hope flairs in me. Maybe that charms means she will have life again. She will be able to touch and breathe and smell and be seen. It will be everything she ever wanted. I have to find her, have to tell her. It begins my thorough search of the Rez. For the next three days I spend every spare moment I have trying to find her. Even on patrol I look for her.

It's all for naught of course. I should know by now Lizzy isn't found unless she wants to be. I've never been very patient, and this knowledge in me wants to burst out. There's no sense telling anyone else but her, they won't feel the urgency that I do.

While on patrol I repeat the symbols I learn each week, going over their shapes and meaning in my head. To my surprise, the pack is starting to learn our written language because of my rope memorization. Jared was the only one passable at it, but now we're all getting better. Even the ones that are annoyed with the fact that I keep repeating it are learning. I laugh at their irritated glances and flaired snouts because it means I'm already holding my side of the deal with Elder Onawa.

Maybe Elder Onawa knew this would happen, and that's why she choose me. After all, all it takes is one ripple to begin to make a change.