WHO: Seth Clearwater and Leah Clearwater. WHAT: A short walk on the beach. WHEN: Tuesday afternoon. WHERE: La Push Beach. RATING: TBD. STATUS: Incomplete.
The light breeze cooled Seth's cheek, though the sun made the air around him thick, warm and enveloping. It seemed to be a relatively calm day. No patrols today, just Seth with his thoughts. He had decided to head down to the beach after he woke up and had his usual massive breakfast. Of course, by the time he finished tinkering with his Xbox controller trying to get it to work again, it was already way past noon. He pulled on his swimming trunks and an old white t-shirt. Though he didn't think he'd end up in the water, it was still better to be safe than sorry. Salt water could do nasty things to clothes, and Seth hated to have his mother spend more money on clothes for him. As it was, he was already stretching the t-shirt he was wearing now as he made his way over to the beach.
Seth had always been rather fond of nature. He didn't mind staying indoors, but he liked being out in the forest as well. The clean smell entered his lungs, and he smiled as he laid eyes on the beach before him. It was silly of him to still be struck dumb at the sight of the beach he'd grown up next to. He just couldn't help it. The place was beautiful, and it always touched him to hear the crashing of water turning over itself and meeting the ground, to watch the water rippling over the sparkling sand at his feet, to feel the stinging, salty breeze on his face. This place never failed to remind him of his father. Some times he could hear his voice in the wind. The voices of the past returning to him like the ghost of a memory.
"That's it Seth! Just balance yourself out evenly on the board, and when you feel steady enough, stand and catch that wave!"
"I can't do it, Dad! It's too wobbly."
"You can do it, Seth. Keep trying. You're doing a great job."
"What do you mean? I'm the worst surfer in all of La Push!"
"But with a little practice, you'll be just as good as any of those other guys. You're my son, Seth. And I know you better than anyone. You never give up, kid. Never..."
With a sigh, Seth turned over the stone in his hand. He hadn't realized he'd picked it up, but now that it was in his hand, he didn't feel right holding it any more. It was a burden to him. In one swift motion, he pitched the black stone into the tumultuous ocean, taking a small step back to admire his aim. He'd learned to surf just fine after that day with his father. Harry was right about his son. He was always right about anything that had to do with Seth. Seth was as determined as the dawn was to break out of the night every single morning. He would not fail. He would not allow himself to fail no matter what.