Her body shook...NO...Her body trembled. Trembled? Jesus.

Her body quaked with anticipation of what the moon was going to bring. The wolves circled her ready to attack. Ready to sink their teeth into her milky flesh. 'COME ON!' She cried. The biggest wolf stalked forward, his charcoal fur...What the hell was his charcoal fur doing?

Rosalind Zabat sat back in her computer chair. The short story was due in two days and she was nowhere near done with the damn thing. The guidelines were vague and did not help the fact that she was already drowning in thoughts on how to end the damn story. First, the short story had to be a dream of hers. Second rule was that it had to be written in third person, easy enough. And the final rule is that no matter the direction the story went it had to end on a good note.

Easy. Rosalind's nights were filled with adventures. Ones that she often could scribble down in her notebook before school. They all ended pretty trippy though, as all dreams are.

But this summer was very different. Her dreams became a blur of naked women dancing in the rain chanting something to the moon? It perplexed the girl.

Then on night she dreamed of a woman with wavy blonde hair and piercing green eyes swaying to ocean waves it all but unsettled her. The woman had no real features either, just those damn green eyes and hooked nose.

"Come on…" The woman would whisper. "Come on…" Come on where?

Rosalind was jolted out of her thoughts to her cell phone buzzing. Stiles.

It was like clockwork for her best friend to call her around this time.

"Stilinski I already texted you an hour ago. I am in my pajamas working on the short story submission, that may I remind you, you pushed for me to do."

"I know I know, but get this," She could practically see his eyes bulge from his head. "They found a dead body in the woods!"

"Who found a dead body in the woods?"
"Two joggers. I was listening in on my dad and they said it was on the Reserve. Meet me at Scott's house in an hour."

Rosalind sighed. Stiles always dragged her and Scott on weird 'adventures' that usually ended with them either getting chewed out by Sherif Stilinski or in the back of one of his car.

"I refuse."

"Pardon me? Aren't we always complaining that Beacon Hill is the most boring place on planet earth and that there should be more drama, death, and romance.

"That's you who complains, besides I need to get this done, finish that stupid angsty book for the our new english class, and then get ready for the first day tomorrow. And leave Scott alone he's tryna' make first line tomorrow. You should too." She moved from her desk to her bed in three quick strides and plopped herself face first into her pillow.

"...I mean yeah I should, but we all know Whittemore will probably bulldoze me before I could even get on the field."

She chuckled. "Maybe we should put you on steroids."

Stiles sighed into the receiver. "You still got the number for that sketchy dude who hangs around your job."

"G'night Stilinski. Try not to stay out too late, the killer might get you next."

"Yeah, yeah, hilarious. You'd be the first crying at my funeral. Night." She heard a click before dropping the phone on the night stand and plugging in the charger.

Her feet pushed her off of the desk chair and plopped her onto her bed. Face first into her pillow.

School was not something she was looking forward to the morning. The past two months were filled with Stiles her and Scott hanging out, driving around Beacon Hills and finding weird ways to sneak into places they weren't supposed to. Some nights when it was just her and Stiles and her Grandmother wasn't there they'd stay up late and drink what ever Stiles could get his hands on. Then they would watch cheesy horror movies they found on netflix and then fall asleep wrapped up in whatever weird fort they would make in her room. It was magical. But now that would come to an end. Scott had his plan of making first line and Stiles would fawn after Lydia Martin like every school year and she, well she would try to be invisible as possible. Stay out of the mean girls and jocks way. Especially Lydia Martin. The strawberry blonde wasn't to kind to Rosalind over the years. In fact her whole wannabe fake possy was never nice to Rosalind. Those losers weren't particularly nice to her when they found out who her late parents were either.. Stiles and Scott told her to just ignore it, but it was hard when they would whisper about her when she walked by or all out berate her in the halls.

The brunette sighed and pulled her duvet over her head. Maybe this year will be different. Maybe whoever was spray painting stupid nicknames on her locker would stop and see that she was just as human as they were...Or maybe they would run out of money for spray cans. A girl could dream.

Rosalind closed her crystal like eyes as they got heavier and heavier. The eyeliner she forgot to remove had smudged due to the rain pelting her she didn't care at the moment. She had to find out what happens to the Blonde woman screaming at the moon.