The crying was what drew me out of my urge to hunt.
It was a full moon tonight, in January, and snow clung to the ground in thin patches, a pre-snow before the blankets that were to come. Anybody who was out here without any kind of jacket or outerwear would freeze to death. And I could smell the frostbite on someone.
I would even go so far as to say that the crying and the smell were together, combined with the sour and sharp smell of fear and the thick, cloying smell of mucus, so similar to blood. It was that knowledge that kept me sane.
The strangled cries of "mommy" and "where are you" and "I'm so cold" told me I was getting closer to the source. So when I finally broke through the thicket of trees to find said source, I stopped to see who it was; a small boy was huddled near a tree that had a small nook in it. He couldn't be much older than eight, and had his hair all buzzed off. His body was shivering from the exposure to the cold, and his sadness and fear was overpowering, even from here.
He seemed to sense something, because he looked up directly into my eyes, that same fear now intensified as he stood, pushing back against the tree. I wondered why he was so terrified of me until…
Right. I was fully wolfed out at this time. That comes with being an Alpha.
Not wanting to scare him anymore, I come down onto all fours, and slowly, move towards him. I keep my eyes down, away from him, and relax into a slow, coiled tension so common when needing to get ready for a kill in hunt. The boy is still shaking, watching me with those same eyes.
I stop, immediately, lying down, trying to show I'm no threat. The smell thins, just barely, but it's still there. Using that slight hitch in smells, I inch forward again, eyes downcast once more. When I'm about five or six feet away, I steal a glance up at him; the tears I hadn't noticed before had stopped, and he was less against the tree.
Slowly, I say to myself, remembering everything that my mother had told me and all my siblings for several moons. By the time I'm a foot away from him, he has less of that fear, but the smell of caution has replaced that more. He removes one of his hands from his clutches, and stretches it, slowly, towards me, darting it back occasionally, before finally putting it out in front of my snout.
I take a step forward, enough so I can press against his hand, inhaling and cataloguing his scent like I'm so good at; under the fear, caution, mucus and tears, I can smell cinnamon, sweet grass, coffee, laundry detergent, cloves, and I'm assuming whatever candy he ingested from earlier that day. It's a smell that's so similar to home, but not, that it makes the fine hairs on the back of my mane stand up.
There was something about this boy that was different, that smelt…right.
I move back a few inches, rearing back onto my hind legs, beginning to transform back to human. The fear is instantly back, and he's huddled against the tree once more. I feel the bones shift and break, crack back into place, until I'm no longer almost ten feet, but closer to six.
When I move to crouch in front of him, he stiffens, for a beat, before relaxing. His eyes are wide, glassy from unshed tears that never would; he didn't smell like them anymore.
I swallow, looking at him. "What's your name?" I ask, shifting in my crouch to be close to his height.
"S-Stiles. That's what e-every'-" He hiccups, and I hold back a chuckle. "They call me."
I nod, half a smile on my face. "I'm Derek. I wanted to let you know that I came to find you; your parents were, and still are, worried sick, so I thought I'd help find you."
Stiles eyes are wide, glassy once more. "Y-you'll take me to them?" He asks, and a few tears fall when I nod. Suddenly he shivers, hugging himself, teeth set to chatter. "I'm c-c-cold."
Really? I hadn't noticed myself.
"Well, I'm pretty warm myself. How about I carry you back and we'll get you a blanket when we get there?" He nods, and I can see his eyelids start to droop at the suggestion. I pick him up and start in the opposite direction, hearing him yawn. "you are warm" is all he mutters before his eyes close. I emit a small laugh, continuing to walk.
I don't know why, but something deep inside of me coiled in happiness. Something about holding this boy-Stiles, my mind supplies-in my arms.
A few minutes later, thanks to the faint smell of cinnamon, I come to a clearing of lights. Along with the scent from Stiles, which is now much stronger, I could smell my family, who all looked like perfect, curious civilians.
They can sense me well before everyone else, I'm aware of that. But they don't make notice of it, just let me slowly walk into the lights. I can smell the smell of distress on a woman not far off, the worry of a man close to her.
Stiles squirms at the bright light, eyes opening to see-
"Mommy!"
The woman turns around in the blink of an eye and I set Stiles down, letting him run off to her. The distress she smelled like was flooded with relief almost instantaneously, the smell of tears filling the air again. I exhale, noticing the man who was worried come up to her, before turning to look at me. He looks down, and back at my face, before turning away, embarrassed by something.
Yeah, that's right. I'm completely nude right now. Does anyone have a blanket.
Speak of the devil, someone came up behind me, wrapping a blanket around my form. Laura, I remind myself, her heady perfume filling my nose. She steps back behind the line, gesturing to in front of me.
I look back to the woman-Stiles's mom, I think-walking forward, holding a sleeping Stiles, face buried in his moms neck.
"Derek, right?" She asks, smiling when I nod. "Stiles told me about you finding him. Thank you. So, so much." She sets a hand on my bare shoulder, giving me another second or two of that smile, before excusing herself. The sheriff's hand replaced hers, and he walked me out of earshot.
Or so he thought.
"You know, I should question as to why you were out in the forest in the middle of a search, naked, with my son, who you just happened to stumble upon after my men had been searching for a few hours." I swallow, realizing now that the sheriff-Stiles' Dad- can be a truly scary man to be on the wrong side of. But his features soften after a minute, most noticeably around the eyes. "But, you found my son, after all this time. And you saved the missus from a sleepless night, and me without having to even think about having the possibility of not finding him. So, thank you. Truly."
I shrug, offering him a turn of the mouth for a second. "No problem." The sheriff looks at me for a second, eyes narrowing slightly, like he's dying to ask something.
"Why exactly are you naked, son?"
Right. Voyeurism isn't big around here, I guess.
"I was cold?" I offer weakly. That seems to be enough, because a warm grin slowly creeps, like he's trying hard not to laugh.
"Well, at least wear something to cover up; don't want to give anybody a scare too bad." He removes the hand, putting it out to shake my hand in a firm shake. "You have a good night."
I nod. "Yes, sir."
He laughs, mutters still not going to get used to that under his breath. I exhale, taking a whiff of my families scent to ground me. After the Sheriffs' cruiser disappears, and most of the other cars have as well, my family closes in on me.
Mom gets there first, and takes a look at me, eyes both stern and warm. "Mind telling me what tonight was about?" She asked, holding my face still.
I swallow. "I think I finally found an anchor."