Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf. I just play in the Wolf!verse for fun.
Warnings: None. Description of slow descent into madness; self-deception; lack of authorial knowledge about the physics of archery. Unbetaed - any grammatical or otherwise stupid errors are the author's fault alone.
Character is what you are in the dark. - American Proverb
She shakes out her arms and stretches her shoulders, takes up a loose stance, and curls her fingers around the grip of her compound bow. One of the arrows thrust into the ground beside her is yanked out and set along the bow's shaft, the notch in the back fitted perfectly into the bowstring. She pulls it back, feeling the familiar burn of muscle along her arm and back before the bow itself takes over the draw weight. She sights at a tree about fifty meters away, at a knot six feet off the ground, and sends the arrow whistling straight into it.
She imagines it's Derek Hale's head, and it makes her feel a little better.
Nock. Draw. Aim. Fire.
Erica's face, streaked with tears, contorted with terror, flashes in front of her eyes. Boyd, strong and silent even in the face of death, collapses to the ground again. And both of them, monsters and abominations, children still, beg her mercy.
Nock. Draw. Aim. Fire.
Why couldn't they have stayed out of the way? She wanted Derek, that was all. Just their Alpha. He was the only one who had to die. She would have let them go, of course she would have. Just as soon as they learned not to cross the Argent family again. As soon as they understood the Code, when their part in the world was etched into their flesh and minds with shocks and tears and pain.
Nock. Draw. Aim. Fire.
They had looked so scared, so frightened. It was pathetic. Surely they could have smelled that her bolts weren't coated with wolfsbane, that they would live? Why would they cry so much if they knew they wouldn't be killed? It didn't make any sense. It was stupid, and weak. And weakness had to be purged, just like the Code-breakers, like those monsters who gave in to their monstrosity and let it consume them. The things wearing the faces of loved ones (of Scott, of Jackson, of her mother) while the feral wolf looked out from their eyes and panted, hungry. The ones who let their demons devour their souls.
Nock. Draw. Aim. Fire.
But Erica and Boyd weren't like that. Mostly. Erica was a bitch and Boyd was… Boyd, but as far as she could tell they were still in control. There was no reason to kill them. Hurt them, yes, but that was just fun. Just vengeance for herself, for Scott. For her mother. She never meant to take it all the way.
Nock. Draw. Aim. Fire.
She would have let them go. They would have been fine. Probably not even the worse for the wear, given their healing abilities.
Nock. Draw. Aim. Fire.
She would have let them go.
Nock. Draw. Aim. Fire.
She'll keep repeating it until she believes it.
Nock. Draw. Aim. Fire.
Nock. Draw. Aim. Fire.
Nock. Draw. Aim. -