Sam was still the biggest, though Jacob was getting close to catching up with him. Sam didn't really count as a boy. His face was older–not in the sense of lines or signs of aging, but in the matunry, the patience of his expression.
"What have you done, Jacob?" he demanded.
One of the others, one I didn't recognize–Jared or Paul–thrust past Sam and spoke before Jacob could defend himself.
"Why can't you just follow the rules, Jacob?" he yelled, throwing his arms in the air. "What the hell are you thinking? Is she more important than everything–than the whole tribe? Than the people getting killed?"
"She can help," Jacob said quietly.
"Help!" the angry boy shouted. His arms begin to quiver. "Oh, that's likely! I'm sure the leech-lover is just dying to help us out!"
"Don't talk about her like that!" Jacob shouted back, stung by the boy's criticism. A shudder rippled through the other boy, along his shoulders and down his spine. "Paul! Relax!" Sam commanded.
Paul shook his head back and forth, not in defiance, but as though he were trying to concentrate.
"Jeez, Paul," one of the other boys–probably Jared–muttered. "Get a grip."
Paul twisted his head toward Jared, his lips curling back in irritation. Then he shifted his glare in my direction. Jacob took a step to put himself in front of me.
That did it. "Right, protect her!" Paul roared in outrage. Another shudder, a convulsion, heaved through his body. He threw his head back, a real growl tearing from between his teeth. "Paul!" Sam and Jacob shouted together. Paul seemed to fall forward, vibrating violently. Halfway to the ground, there was a loud ripping noise, and the boy exploded.
Dark silver fur blew out from the boy, coalescing into a shape more than five-times his size–a massive, crouched shape, ready to spring.
The wolf's muzzle wrinkled back over his teeth, and another growl rolled through his colossal chest. His dark, enraged eyes focused on me.
In the same second, Jacob was running across the road straight for the monster. "Jacob!" I screamed.
Mid-stride, a long tremor shivered down Jacob's spine. He leaped forward, diving headfirst into the empty air.
With another sharp tearing sound, Jacob exploded, too. He burst out of his skin–shreds of black and white cloth blasted up into the air. It happened so quickly that if I'd blinked, I'd have missed the entire transformation. One second it was Jacob diving into the air, and then it was the gigantic, russet brown wolf–so enormous that I couldn't make sense of its mass somehow fitting inside Jacob–charging the crouched silver beast.
Jacob met the other werewolf's attack head-on. Their angry snarls echoed like thunder off the trees.
The black and white scraps–the remains of Jacob's clothes–fluttered to the ground where he'd disappeared.
"Jacob!" I screamed again, staggering forward.
"Stay where you are, Bella," Sam ordered. It was hard to hear him over the roar of the fighting wolves. They were snapping and tearing at each other, their sharp teeth flashing toward each other's throats. The Jacob-wolf seemed to have the upper hand–he was visibly bigger than the other wolf, and it looked like le was stronger, too. He rammed his shoulder against the gray wolf again and again, knocking him back toward the trees.
"Take her to Emily's," Sam shouted toward the other boys, who were watching the conflict with rapt expressions. Jacob had successfully shoved the gray wolf off the road, and they were disappearing into the forest, though the sound of their snarls was still loud. Sam ran after them, kicking off his shoes on the way. As he darted into the trees, he was quivering from head to toe.
The growling and snapping was fading into the distance. Suddenly, the sound cut off and it was very quiet on the road.
One of the boys started laughing. I turned to stare at him–my wide eyes felt frozen, like I couldn't even blink them.
The boy seemed to be laughing at my expression. "Well, there's something you don't see every day," he snickered. His face was vaguely familiar–thinner than the others… Embry Call.
"I do," the other boy, Jared, grumbled. "Every single day."
"Aw, Paul doesn't lose his temper every day," Embry disagreed, still grinning. "Maybe two out of three."
Jared stopped to pick something white up off the ground. He held it up toward Embry; it dangled in limp strips from his hand.
"Totally shredded," Jared said. "Billy said this was the last pair he could afford–guess Jacob's going barefoot now."