2Disclaimer: I don't own any of Meyer's characters. I do own Winnie, however.
I know SamOC stories aren't popular, but I wanted to do something more creative within the fandom. No beta. If you're into the fic, drop a review :)
Most of my childhood memories featured bruised skies, filled with the type of clouds you can't escape. Hours of a torrential downpour, and then the calming scent of petrichor as the world fell back into stillness.
It seemed fitting that the sky looked much the same on my first day back in La Push.
The rain pitter-plattered against the cottage's roof, adding a layer of coziness to the otherwise stale silence.
Living alone might take some time to get used to, I thought to myself, struggling to drag a heavy IKEA box up the porch steps. When I first moved from Boulder to Seattle three years ago to start my PhD program, at least I had a roommate to help me put all the furniture together and breathe more life our tiny apartment.
This time, in a slightly larger cottage in a much smaller town, I was entirely on my own.
I didn't necessarily hate it.
I just wasn't sure I'd love it, either.
As if sensing my thoughts, Sarge released a loud bark from somewhere outside, then another, and a third. He wasn't usually vocal. He may have been only a pup at only two years old, but as a German Shepherd that my dad had trained alongside military dogs, Sargeant was on the quieter, more composed side. So what had him barking?
Confused, I lifted my head to sneak a peek through the window.
Sarge was hunched backward, growling in the direction of the narrow, windy road that cut through the woods surrounding our house on all sides. A low rumble emanated from deep within his chest.
Only a second later, a long, drawn-out howl rang through the air.
It was not his.
Unbidden, a shiver crawled down my spine as I waited for the melancholic cry to end with bated breath. When Sarge lowered his hind legs to the ground, as if getting ready to leap towards the trees swaying lightly in the distance, I burst out the front door.
"Down, Sarge!"
His ears perked up, amber gaze swiftly meeting mine as he paused on the spot. He blinked back owlishly at me as I stared at him, brow raised. His nose scrunched up as he gave the air a sniff, then a second. Still alert, he started moving backwards towards me while his eyes flickered over the endless expanse of green before us, finally settling uncertainly on the narrow gravel road that led to town.
"C'mere, buddy," I called to him.
He fully turned towards me, tail lifting high as he trotted over to my spot by the front door. I laid my hand on his head, scratching behind his ears as we took a seat on one of the porch steps, awning still sheltering us from the rain. "You're not turning into a scaredy cat just because you're in a new place, are you?"
I chuckled softly when his head cocked to the side, not expecting another response. But then a rustle reached me from the edge of the woods, and my eyes startled upwards on their own accord.
A tall, broad-shouldered figure clad in a slightly wrinkled police uniform sent me a friendly wave and even friendlier smile as he stumbled out of the woods, straightening up in a haste. He nodded towards Sarge - who was already standing protectively in front of me - as he smoothed down the fabric of his uniform and readjusted his chest plate, which hung askew.
"Now that's a well-behaved guard dog!" he complimented in a deep voice, hand still held up in a lazy wave. "Mind if I come through?"
"No, not at all!" I hurriedly stood up as well, meeting him half-way down the narrow cobbled path. "How can I help you, officer?"
He chuckled, enveloping my much smaller hand in a firm handshake. My eyes flickered over his face briefly - his russet skin was burning up, hot and feverish. When nothing on his face seemed to betray discomfort or sickness, I shoved the tinge of worry away and just smiled back at him softly.
"I actually came over to ask if you'd like any help." He scratched the back of his neck, eyes still squinting at me warmly. "I'm Jared Cameron, officer in the tribal law enforcement department. Coincidentally, my wife and I are your new neighbors - that's our house, around a half mile east!"
He flicked a finger to the right. I imagined that his cottage must've been somewhere past the thicket of redwoods.
Other than looking up whether my childhood home on the other side of town was still standing - dad had sold it in a hurry many years ago - I hadn't taken the time to look at how the area must have changed. Not even where my new rental was located.
It was nice, though - knowing that there were still neighbors nearby, even though the cottage looked secluded. Jared seemed nice enough, and if he was there, then maybe there were other neighbors scattered around as well.
Unexpectedly, I found myself relieved at the thought.
(I had to admit that moving from downtown Seattle to the literal middle of nowhere, surrounded by wildlife, may have been a relatively rash decision.)
"Nice to meet you, Jared! I'm actually so relieved I have neighbors," I admitted. "My name's Winnie."
His brown eyes scanned my face, unabashed, and then, "Do I know you from somewhere?"
I bit my bottom lip somewhat nervously. "Maybe? My full name's Winnifred, I lived here with my family when I was younger."
His mouth popped open, and he gave a slow nod with recognition shining in his eyes. "Oh shoot - you're Winnie, as in Winnifred Rosewood! I should've recognized you by the, uh, you know-"
"-yeah, the curly ginger hair that doesn't quite fit in," I interrupted with a chuckle, hoping he wouldn't finish that sentence by bringing up my last name. Judging by how dad had forced us to leave town in a rush shortly after mom's deadly car crash, I didn't doubt the Rosewood family name was well-known in the area.
Mostly, well-known for falling apart and high-tailing it out of here.
The two short week we'd spent here after my mom's death, it had been hard to escape the pitying whispers that followed our name.
"Yeah," he rushed out, sounding almost grateful that he hadn't had the chance to shove a foot in his mouth. I bit back a smile, smoothing down a strand of ginger hair that looked redder the wetter it grew.
Growing up in La Push, my father had been the only white person on the entire reservation, and I'd inherited his wild red hair. The two of us always stood out like a sore thumb compared to the local population, but at least my skin tone was mixed enough to still somewhat blend in.
And speaking of blending in - I could not, for the life of me, remember if I had ever met Jared, even if he seemed to be familiar with me. Something on my face must have given it away, because he gave out a snort uncharacteristic of a police officer.
"I was a couple of grades below you in primary school, so you probably don't remember me."
With pursed lips, I nodded sheepishly. "Sorry?" I apologized, though it came out sounding like a question.
"Don't worry about it, I don't remember much from back then either." He waved me away, nodding towards Sarge instead. "So is he your guard dog?"
I chuckled, ignoring the fact that he was only saying that to make me feel better because he clearly did remember some things, and I lowered my hand to scratch behind Sarge's ears. "He tries to be, but he ends up being more like a lapdog behind closed doors."
"Don't we all?" Jared chuckled loudly. "What's his name?"
"Sargeant," I replied, wondering if the subtle raise of his brow would lead to yet another that's a mouthful! response. "But I call him Sarge most of the time."
"Sarge," he murmured, crouching down so he was eye-to-eye with him. "Cool name. May I?" he asked me, and once I nodded, he held a palm out expectantly. Sarge's large paw immediately went into it, with Jared cooing "Such a good boy!" quietly under his breath.
"You're good with dogs," I mentioned, eyeing the way he was praising Sarge. "Do you have one, too?"
Jared straightened up to full height, Sarge's eyes still boring into his face.
"Me?" He pointed to himself, using his other hand to rub the back of his neck. "Why, am I natural?"
I smiled widely at his confidence. "That, and I heard some howling earlier."
"Howling?" he echoed.
"Yes, howling," I repeated, looking at him a little perplexed. "Didn't you hear it when you were passing through? It was pretty loud - it actually sounded like it came from nearby."
"Uh," he paused, eyes glazing over as he squinted at me through the drizzle, "maybe it was my buddy Sam's dog? He recently got... a... chihuahua."
A chihuahua?
Before I could voice my doubt that a chihuahua could produce that kind of sound - because it seemed more likely that could've been a wolf than a small dog - the earth beneath us quivered with a clap of thunder. The heavens above seemed to crack open completely, the frigid drizzle intensifying to larger droplets.
"Do you want to come in? You must be so cold!" I said without thinking. Immediately, I rushed out, "I mean, I don't really have anything to offer you - I haven't gone to the grocery store for drinks or any food yet, really, and my blankets and towels are both packed up, but-"
"Nah," he cut me off with a deep chuckle and a shake of his head, "I don't get cold, don't worry about it."
"You're sure?" I prodded.
"Positive." He grinned back brightly. "My lunch break is just about over, so I have to get going anyways - I just figured I'd catch the new neighbor before I go off saving lives today."
I raised a brow. "Is La Push's crime rate that bad?"
"Trust me when I say I'll probably be helping elderly women carry their groceries home," he replied. I couldn't tell if he was joking or not until he elaborated, "Crime around here has been practically non-existent for what... two years now?"
I couldn't bite back the giggle that involuntarily escaped me afterwards. The thought of Jared - who was more than a foot taller than me and nearly twice my width - spending his days helping grandmothers carry their bags or schoolchildren cross the street was oddly endearing.
"Anyway - my buddy Sam, the one with the, uh, dog - he's actually the one he owns your cottage," he brought up. Sam? I must've been visibly confused that my rental contract did not include a Sam, so he clarified, "Sam's the owner of AU Realty, who renovated and leased your cottage out. Anyway, he lives in a small cabin on the other side of mine. And Paul, the sheriff, lives just down the road from him. Kim and I basically live in the middle of us all, so we were thinking of hosting a small BBQ to welcome you to town, if you're down."
I smiled widely, looking up at him appreciatively. Out of courtesy, I started my reply with, "You really don't have to," only to be interrupted by a shake of Jared's head.
"We've been looking forward to it for a month, come on! You can bring Sarge, too."
"You don't mind?"
"As long as he doesn't prey on toddlers, I guess?" Suddenly, he shifted on his feet. "Wait, Kim would actually kill me if I brought a giant German Shepherd in. He doesn't do that, does he? He seems..."
"He's well-behaved," I promised, giving Sarge another pat on the head. He responded with an enthuastic lick of my palm in response.
"Great! I'll talk to Kim and stop by again after my shift, give you some more details. I could also bring some buddies around to help you set up your place, if you want?"
I shook my head quickly, even though he looked skeptically over my head, where my door still hung ajar. It revealed nothing but bare, empty space littered sporadically with moving boxes and scattered IKEA furniture that had yet to be assembled.
"Most of the women on the reservation would kill me if they heard me say this, but you're what... Five feet tall?" he asked the last part quietly, as if afraid he'd be overheard. "And you probably weigh a hundred pounds soaking wet?"
I held back a wince. I know he didn't mean to be offensive - his comment made that obvious enough - but he should've known not to bring up weight.
"I'm five two," I corrected. I didn't bother correcting him on the rest of his assumptions - skinny shaming was a thing, and I'd been trying to add more bulk to my petite frame for nearly two years now after one of my professors first pulled me aside at a faculty meeting and asked me whether I was eating well.
I ate like a pig.
I just had the metabolism of a goddamn wolf.
Wordlessly, Jared raised a brow. His deep-set brown eyes shifted from me to the cottage I'd have to learn to call home. I mulled it over, briefly taking in his large frame and remembering the overwhelming misery I felt earlier at the thought of putting furniture together by myself.
"Alright," I conceded. "But only if I treat you all to some baked goods once my kitchen's set up. Deal?"
"Yes, ma'am!"
We shook on it, and Sarge and I scurried back indoors just as a strike of lightning flashed over the sky.
Something about La Push just felt right.
Like I had finally reached somewhere I could maybe belong, after years of straying adrift.
(Not once did I stop to think why, exactly, Jared had stumbled out of the woods opposite the side of where his home was, looking more than a little worse for wear.)
Drop a comment and a vote if you enjoyed this and want the next chapter, where we'll see Sam spot Winnie in the woods! :)
I'm winging this story as we go. I'm only writing it as warmup / exercise for my original manuscript, which is 110k words in but very, very stuck. Completely different writing styles, but I need to get words flowing on paper to get rid of my writer's block, and this is a great opportunity to do it even even I don't necessarily have the mental bandwidth lol.
Will figure out the plot as we go, so I'll be taking suggestions in the comments as well.