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It
was
only
fifteen
miles
to
La
Push
from
Forks
,
with
gorgeous
,
dense
green
forests
edging
the
road
most
of
the
way
and
the
wide
Quillayute
River
snaking
beneath
it
twice
.
I
was
glad
I
had
the
window
seat
.
We
’
d
rolled
the
windows
down
-
the
Suburban
was
a
bit
claustrophobic
with
nine
people
in
it
-
and
I
tried
to
absorb
as
much
sunlight
as
possible
.
I
’
d
been
to
the
beaches
around
La
Push
many
times
during
my
Forks
summers
with
Charlie
,
so
the
mile
-
long
crescent
of
First
Beach
was
familiar
to
me
.
It
was
still
breathtaking
.
The
water
was
dark
gray
,
even
in
the
sunlight
,
white
-
capped
and
heaving
to
the
gray
,
rocky
shore
.
Islands
rose
out
of
the
steel
harbor
waters
with
sheer
cliff
sides
,
reaching
to
uneven
summits
,
and
crowned
with
austere
,
soaring
firs
.
The
beach
had
only
a
thin
border
of
actual
sand
at
the
water
’
s
edge
,
after
which
it
grew
into
millions
of
large
,
smooth
stones
that
looked
uniformly
gray
from
a
distance
,
but
close
up
were
every
shade
a
stone
could
be
:
terra
-
cotta
,
sea
green
,
lavender
,
blue
gray
,
dull
gold
.
The
tide
line
was
strewn
with
huge
driftwood
trees
,
bleached
bone
white
in
the
salt
waves
,
some
piled
together
against
the
edge
of
the
forest
fringe
,
some
lying
solitary
,
just
out
of
reach
of
the
waves
.
There
was
a
brisk
wind
coming
off
the
waves
,
cool
and
briny
.
Pelicans
floated
on
the
swells
while
seagulls
and
a
lone
eagle
wheeled
above
them
.
The
clouds
still
circled
the
sky
,
threatening
to
invade
at
any
moment
,
but
for
now
the
sun
shone
bravely
in
its
halo
of
blue
sky
.
We
picked
our
way
down
to
the
beach
,
Mike
leading
the
way
to
a
ring
of
driftwood
logs
that
had
obviously
been
used
for
parties
like
ours
before
.
There
was
a
fire
circle
already
in
place
,
filled
with
black
ashes
.
Eric
and
the
boy
I
thought
was
named
Ben
gathered
broken
branches
of
driftwood
from
the
drier
piles
against
the
forest
edge
,
and
soon
had
a
teepee
-
shaped
construction
built
atop
the
old
cinders
.
"
Have
you
ever
seen
a
driftwood
fire
?
"
Mike
asked
me
.
I
was
sitting
on
one
of
the
bone
-
colored
benches
;
the
other
girls
clustered
,
gossiping
excitedly
,
on
either
side
of
me
.
Mike
kneeled
by
the
fire
,
lighting
one
of
the
smaller
sticks
with
a
cigarette
lighter
.
"
No
,
"
I
said
as
he
placed
the
blazing
twig
carefully
against
the
teepee
.
"
You
’
ll
like
this
then
-
watch
the
colors
.
"
He
lit
another
small
branch
and
laid
it
alongside
the
first
.
The
flames
started
to
lick
quickly
up
the
dry
wood
.
"
It
’
s
blue
,
"
I
said
in
surprise
.
"
The
salt
does
it
.
Pretty
,
isn
’
t
it
?
"
He
lit
one
more
piece
,
placed
it
where
the
fire
hadn
’
t
yet
caught
,
and
then
came
to
sit
by
me
.
Thankfully
,
Jess
was
on
his
other
side
.
She
turned
to
him
and
claimed
his
attention
.
I
watched
the
strange
blue
and
green
flames
crackle
toward
the
sky
.
After
a
half
hour
of
chatter
,
some
of
the
boys
wanted
to
hike
to
the
nearby
tidal
pools
.
It
was
a
dilemma
.
On
the
one
hand
,
I
loved
the
tide
pools
.
They
had
fascinated
me
since
I
was
a
child
;
they
were
one
of
the
only
things
I
ever
looked
forward
to
when
I
had
to
come
to
Forks
.
On
the
other
hand
,
I
’
d
also
fallen
into
them
a
lot
.
Not
a
big
deal
when
you
’
re
seven
and
with
your
dad
.
It
reminded
me
of
Edward
’
s
request
-
that
I
not
fall
into
the
ocean
.
