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It is not in the nature of every wolf to imprint. But for those destined to that fate, it is inevitable. After all, it is just that; fate.


:D jasper said is at it again! xD I haven't forgotten Heat, but I just couldn't ignore this idea either. Please enjoy this little twisted gem... it's worth it.

4. Moving

Rating 0/5   Word Count 1061   Review this Chapter

Issy's POV

If I had known my dad was going to jump off the deep end, I would never, ever have fought to come to La Push and see Granddad Billy. I just wouldn't have done it. Now don't get me wrong; I love my new found family. I love La Push. Heck, I could spend my summers here and lead the happiest life I've ever known. But goddamn it, I didn't want to live there permanently! Seattle was my home. And lets face it, La Push is no Seattle.

"Cheer up, Issy," my dad teased, passing me a box from the back of the moving truck.

I grumbled. "I am cheery," I said deadly. I was not supportive of this move.

He made a sort of clicking noise at me, one of those weird things parents continue to do that worked when you were little but have no effect now that you're a teen. I rolled my eyes and carried the box inside, setting it down in Ephraim's ‘room' which was looked more like a really big linen closet that the shelves were taken out of. Not that Ephraim would say anything, even if he cared. Ephraim was probably ‘the good kid' of the family... you know, the one who does no wrong? Yep. That's him.

Rather than heading back out to the truck to help finish with the unloading, I decided to sneak out the back door and away. I didn't know much about the geography of La Push, but I knew enough. Beach in this direction, Billy's in the opposite, right to get to the pier and the safety of the Calls' shop in the event of a storm that borders on flash flood, and left to find your self at the cliffs. It was relatively easy, I guess. Made all the easier from the fact that the house we moved into was practically backed up into the lower cliffs, not far from a particularly lovely strip of beach... you know... if you ignore the potentially deadly driftwood at high tides.

The sand packed hard under my feet, creating little sized six indentions where I tread. The air was, as always, moist and cold, and I clutched my jacket a little tighter to me. Playfully, albeit carefully, I rose up to the tips of my toes, my shoes sinking a little more than slightly in the sand now. I held several different ‘pointe' positions, letting go of my torso and aligning my arms in ‘pretty' positions. Behind me, I heard someone clap.

"Bravo. That was beautiful," said a mocking voice. I turned around, expecting Manasseh to be there, skipping out on unpacking, too. Instead, I got an eyeful on one of the La Push natives, a boy a little younger than ‘Nasseh, a little older than me. He had long dark hair like just about everyone else I'd met, and his eyes were little squinted glitters against his brown shaded skin.

I grimaced. "No one asked you, goof." I had a habit of using childish insults from my friends back in Seattle. I wished it wasn't such a habit right then.

The boy grinned. "Good thing I don't have to be asked. I'm Sawyer."

"I'm Issy," I said, returning a reluctant smile.

Sawyer joined my walk, asking about what I'd been doing when he spotted me. I told him it was ballet. Apparently, the smarty britches knew that, but wanted to know why I was dancing ballet in the middle of the beach.

"That's not normal?" I asked sarcastically. Sawyer had shook his head. "Well, it's because I'm a dancer, silly goose. And what do dancers do if not dance?"

He'd laughed and we'd kept walking. It was comfortable, but not in the same family comfortable like talking with Callie and Sienna. Although, talking with them was considerably more fun... you don't have to worry about the same things when you're talking with other girls than when you're in mixed company.

After teaching Sawyer how to properly perform a Grande Plié for kicks and giggles, I realized that I had successfully walked the length of the beach fully right to the pier and found myself at the Calls shop, Sawyer sprinting inside as if he remembered something. I followed him into the store but didn't see him, so I went behind the counter to look for Mr. Embry Call. I'd met Mr. Em last time I visited, and I'd hit if off well enough with my ‘uncle' to be perfectly comfortable invading his late mother's store.

"Hey! Mr. Em!" I called, using the name we'd worked out since it didn't feel right calling him my uncle and he'd insisted full names were too formal for his best friend's daughter to call him by. He appeared as if on cue.

"You rang, Miss Black?" he said playfully.

I smiled. "Have you seen Sawyer? I could have swore I saw him duck in here."

"I would hope you did," said Embry with a small laugh. "He works here for me. When did you meet little Clearwater, anyway?"

"Clearwater?" I asked, confused.

Another laugh. "Sawyer's last name, smart one," he said, giving me a playful pop on the head.

I laughed along with him. "Oh. I see. Uh, can I make a suggestion?"

"Shoot for it, kid," said Embry offhandedly, messing with the cash register.

"Watch your employees more carefully," I teased, heading out of the store.

Mr. Embry looked confused for a second, and there was a loud laugh from the back of the store I recognized as Sawyer's. I smirked a little and retreated out of the store, back along the pier and down the beach. It took me what seemed like forever longer to make it back to my house, and as luck would have it for me, meaning no luck at all, I didn't succeed in sneaking back into my new house.

"Where've you been?" asked Ephraim, unpacking plates and cups for mom.

"Around," I said, imitating ‘spooky' as best I could. It was an old joke between Ephraim and I, though I'm really not sure how it started anymore.

Ephraim chuckled. "Well why don't you get around over here and help me then, huh?"

"Yeah, sure, sure," I said lazily, helping him unpack.