Cozy • An Embry Story

.22

Winnie's POV

"Come on," When I put my car in park, Enola opens the passenger door so fast I don't have time to react. "Let's move, youngin',"

"Oh, hi—" I stop mid sentence when I see the rifle leaning against her shoulder. It's the very same rifle I've seen mounted in her house. She said it was her grandfather's, passed down from father to father. Yet, here it is, shined and loaded in my car.

"Wait, wait, wait—"

"We don't have time to wait." Enola scoffs in that rough, raspy voice of hers. She pats the dash to signal me to move, but I'm so frazzled I don't dare move the car. I just got out of work, still in my uniform with my apron still hanging on my waist by a loose knot. She's not dressed in her usual chunky knitted cardigans or her clogs, instead she's wearing forest green trousers, and a thick denim shirt with her father's old boots on. She looks like she's about to go duck hunting.

"Wait Enola! Explain this please! Where do you need to go that requires a gun!" I'm starting to freak out a bit now, my hands going sweaty against the wheel, my voice rising and threatening to break. She chuckles as if I'm silly, which does nothing for my nerves.

"This antique?" She waves off, buckling herself and the gun in.

"Enola, please—" I start, feeling what's left of my usual composure and calm spilt. Enola can certainly be rambunctious for her age. She's certainly earned her reputation on the Res for being curt, blunt, and strident. I hadn't known she even liked me till almost a year of renting from her. But all of her stunts and requests have never had her armed.

"I just need a ride to go meet Quil Senior, now don't you worry, Winifred." Enola explains. "The safety is on."

"Oh," I say shakingly, putting the car in reverse. The image of Old Quil is what soothes me. The town elder is strict, but well mannered and reserved. He's on the La Push council, along with the La Push historical society and in charge of every event on the Res. Old Quil probably wants to the rifle for some historical thing or something...

At least that's what I keep telling myself on the drive.

"The Lahote boy told me you ran into the Cullens yesterday." Enola suddenly brings up.

"You mean Bella and Edward?" I ask, following her directions. I don't remember Paul going off to have a one on one with my landlord. She probably caught him right before he was leaving the property. Or maybe when she went to ask Paul if could she'd hire him to do repairs after he saw me off at my cabin.

"Yes, those two." She nods, staring firmly out the window. "Were they... fresh to you?"

"Fresh?" I repeat the word back as if she spoke French. "No, no, they were perfectly polite... just..."

"Just what?" Her head doesn't move, but her dark eyes slide towards me.

"Just... intimidating." Is the word I settle on. She huffs to herself, dissatisfied with my words.

"Did you they make you feel any type of way?" Enola follows up. The more we talk about the Cullens, the menacing feeling from yesterday doubles down. Just thinking about them gives me chills. When I don't answer, she takes my silence as an answer. "Well, you keep away from intimidating folks like that." Enola advises.

I almost ask what she means. Did she mean people from Forks? Or ghoulish, ominous people who look too perfect to be normal.

"If you see them up in Forks, just stay away from them, Winifred. Call one of Sam's boys or even a local, though I know how you don't like them." Enola states.