Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Wolf or anything to do with it

A/N:

I guess this one is a little odd. Sometimes I like to think I know how to write something that tries to be horror...
Let me know what you think if you'd like to, and thank you very much for reading.

Title: Howls Like Trumpets, Souls Like Jericho
Author: 30HowlsStrong
Rating: PG
Category: Teen Wolf
Genre: General/Angst

It was the seventh night of the seventh day, and the pale moon hung luminous in the sky behind a veil of trailing clouds. Winter in Beacon Hills hadn't brought any purifying snow this year either, only dull gray morning skies and cloudy nights, and the sharp black fingers of winter-dead trees clawing across dreary backdrops.

The wind was silent that night, but the world was not, and frost-touched fallen branches and leaves cracked under shoe soles, a sharp staccato in air already filled with distant sounds of animal growls and yelps. Breath frosting before them, three figures staggered from the forest line and into the clearing stretching towards the still distant road ahead.

A sudden howl, holding the sharp note of vicious anger, rose out of the woods behind them, joined by others, answered and challenged by even more. The three jerked almost as one, as if the howls were physical blows. As one they turned to stare into the woods behind them, the moon's flickering light dancing shadows among the trunks.

"It's okay," Stiles said with a voice steadier than should have been expected in the situation. He motioned his companions towards the road still yards ahead of them. "It's gonna be… be okay. Come on."

He motioned again when he saw the others hadn't budged, and repeated insistently, "Come on."

Another chorus of howls rang through the night, and another shudder in unison followed. Stiles reached out, grabbed at the nearest figure and shoved her forward, away from the forest and towards the distant road.

"Okay... It's okay..." The words left cold lips mechanically; there was little certainty, little belief, in Lydia's voice as she stumbled onward in the direction Stiles had pushed her. Her left arm hung stiffly at her side, and she wiped the fingers of her right hand over her face and eyes repeatedly. Her fingers, dark and wet, only served to further smear the blood and tears on her face, the taste thick on her lips and tongue, salty and metallic. She hiccupped through sobs and moved, moved, moved.

"Go... go ahead," and this time the words were spoken to Stiles. He balked, started to speak, was ready to argue with the dark haired girl, but Allison held his eyes with a steely gaze, one only made more stern by the claw marks stretching down her face. She readied her bow and arrow as the sounds of growls grew slightly closer. "Go, I'm right behind you."

Stiles stopped arguing; she only had three arrows left, he could see that, but if anyone was able to do anything in their situation it was her, so he bit his tongue and turned to follow Lydia. The black ribbon of road was ahead of them, and with the pale light of the moon he could just make out the shape of his jeep. He just needed to get them to his jeep, he thought. If he could get them to his jeep, they'd be fine. They'd be fine. He gritted his teeth and pressed his arm tighter to his side.

Allison stared down the tree line resolutely; she knew she couldn't do much. As another howl broke through the night air she felt her blood run ice in her veins. She didn't recognize the howl, and she didn't have to look at the others to know they don't either; the rising tone of Lydia's panicked sobs and Stiles's curses played out as a suitable soundtrack to her roiling thoughts. She listened intently, through the growls and yelps and whimpers, and the growing sounds of bodies hitting bodies, for anything familiar, any sound she would be able to place with their pack, their pack, anything at all. Her resolve was steel but her hands were shaking as she realized she couldn't. She was still standing steady on two feet, and every arrow she'd sent flying had hit its mark, and yet she felt she'd failed them somehow, failed them all, because she was still standing strong and Lydia was barely walking and Stiles was pale and shaking and limping and she wasn't able to hear their pack anymore.

"Allison!"

She jerked around, instinctively raising her bow and sighting a target. Her arrow was pointed at Stiles's forehead but he didn't look surprised. He looked distraught, and she was shaking, biting her lip to keep from crying out. He called to her again, voice desperate and raw, and she lowered her bow. Lydia was not far ahead of him, doubled over, shaking with barely silenced sobs.

Another howl, this one vicious and cold and almost a roar, broke through the air, sounding much closer than the previous. There were no more words; panic and desperation set all three into motion. The jeep gleamed ahead of them, bathed in the cold dead light of the moon above, a beacon among the dark and twisted landscape around them. Low bushes and scattered branches reached at them, twisting their ankles, pulling at pants, scratching legs.

Lydia tripped, crying out in pain as her left arm slammed against the ground and the broken bones ground against one another. The sound of her voice was loud in the cold air, but she was already struggling to her feet as Stiles stumbled over to her. Allison was there in a moment, helping to pull the redhead up her feet. Supporting one another they crashed through the winter-dead bushes and leaves, growls growing and echoing among the trees they'd left yards behind. They were almost at the jeep now, the blue paint gleaming silver in the moonlight, and Allison pushed them on, nearly dragging Lydia in her desperation. The growls, the sounds of bodies moving through the woods behind them, seemed amplified in the winter air. She didn't believe that sound should work like that, wondered if it was a side effect of the adrenaline which coursed through her body. She was burning but ice cold at the same time, struggling not to think of how there were no more sounds of fighting behind them.

"W...wait..." Lydia stammered, pulling back suddenly. Allison wanted to pull her again, but the redhead twisted in her grasp, and Allison realized Stiles was no longer next to them. She glanced back to find him standing only a few steps behind them, clouds of breath puffing before him as he stared intently back at the tree line behind them.

It was the silence that had stopped him, an unnatural silence that seemed to buzz in his ears, that seemed to stretch for eons below the cold light of the moon. And then, there, a low sound, a lone howl rising slowly in volume over the chilled tree tops. It was almost breathless, and horribly empty, and if the world had been waiting for a signal, that was it. Behind the howl rose a chorus of growls, growing into a cacophony of roaring that set the forest trees shaking, and the howl, that lone low howl rose in pitch, rose in volume, rose in a shrieking cry that nearly rivaled the roars.

Lydia tore out of Allison's grip and raced almost blindly towards the jeep, her left arm twisted unnaturally, her face streaked with tear trails through the fresh red of blood. Allison reached after her, crying out, but the redhead was out of her reach too quickly. Stiles stumbled towards the dark-haired girl, right arm still wrapped tightly around his middle. He ignored Allison's outstretched hand, her offer of help, and instead shoved her forward, pushing her ahead of him. There were low growls in the woods, and other sounds they did their best not to focus on, and the jeep was right in front of them and they were almost there. Another chorus of grating, rage-pitched howls, alien howls, unknown and unfamiliar, filled the air - but they were almost there.

And then Lydia was there already; she stood a few feet shy of the jeep, sobs wracking her body, deepening in scope until they were nearly hysterical, until she was shaking on her feet so badly she seemed to be at risk at collapsing at any moment.

"Lydia, it's okay, we... We're getting in and... And we're getting out... Out of here," Stiles stammered out as he and Allison reached the redhead. Leaning heavily on the dark-haired girl with his shoulder, his breath coming out almost as gasps, he dug in his pockets with a shaking hand. Allison reached towards the redhead, and Lydia's sobs lowered in volume as her friend's hand touched her back. Shaking her head almost uncontrollably, Lydia waved her good hand at the jeep helplessly and repeatedly.

"W-what now what d-d-do we do n-now what..." She repeated herself, over and over, and for the first time the other two looked at the jeep. It stood where Stiles had left it, half on the road with two wheels on the blacktop… and two wheels on the dirt with tires so shredded it looked like black confetti had been scattered around the rims.

"W… what." Stiles choked out, stumbling away from Allison and towards the jeep. He stared at the car wordlessly, at the littering of black rubber, as Lydia's words slowly changed to sobs again.

Low growls were reaching them from across the clearing; somewhere not far behind them a branch snapped.

"It's okay." Stiles gasped out, finally pulling his keys out and holding them to Allison with a shaking hand. "You… you can still drive. It's n-not far…"

"You…?" Allison reached for the keys automatically, "What… what do you mean yo-"

"You can't dr-drive too fast," Stiles pulled his hand away as soon as the keys were in her hand. "The… the rims'll spark, but it's not far. You can make it."

"Stiles…" Lydia choked words out, fighting sobs; her eyes were watery but clear and she was stern and she was scared. "Stiles, you… are coming… with us."

A silence had descended, slowly and almost unnoticeably; the realization sent prickling along the back of their necks.

"It's a full moon," Stiles said, and he curled his arm tighter against his side, and he winced and he spoke again. "If they... they get pissed off enough, they can g-get distracted. Distracted en… enough to give you some time…"

Allison had started shaking her head when he had started speaking, and she continued to shake it, and she breathed a single, low "No" but she wasn't sure if it was in response to what he'd said, or to the situation they were in, or because in the silence that surrounded them she could for the first time hear the watery bubbling as he breathed and in the moon's light see the dark line trailing its deep crimson way down from the corner of his mouth, and she had realized once again that of all she could do she still couldn't do anything, not really.

And maybe it wasn't until that moment, when no one was speaking and only the sound of their breath was in the air between them, that they realized just how empty the world had become around them.

And it was Lydia that reached out first, and touched Allison's arm, and Allison reached out to touch Stiles's shoulder, and their eyes wandered over the empty clearing, and their sight touched on the distant tree line.

Nothing moved in the shadows, nothing moved along the clearing, and though their eyes searched, strained to see through the shades of gray on gray on black they could see nothing.

And behind their backs the jeep creaked.

And from just above their heads, there sounded a howl.