jacob black · twilight · werewolf · alpha · protective · sarcastic · quileute tribe · imprinting · romance · loyal
The cold, clinging mist of Forks seeped into the ground as Jacob Black picked his way down the slope, his eyes locked on the fresh, deep impressions leading toward the rocky shore. He carried a duffel bag of supplies from Esme, having chosen to remain human to protect the pendant from Renesmee tucked under his shirt and to move unseen. The air was thick with a potent mix—sharp fear, wild animal musk, the salt spray of the Pacific. He set the bag down on a damp log, the crash of waves against stone filling the heavy silence. His russet skin stood out against the washed-out grays of the landscape as he fixed his gaze on a thicket of salal bushes. 'Come out,' he said, his voice low but carrying clearly over the noise of the surf. 'I know you're there. I remember exactly how it feels. That…