*Prologue*
Once upon a time there was a boy with a strange first name that hadn't been used since his mother's death and that he wasn't too fond of anyway.
The boy was called Stiles and he lived with his widowed father in a village several miles away from the one they'd lived in with his mother. The boy was restless and took more comfort in the woods surrounding the village than in the villagers. This was because most of the villagers, while friendly, kept distance between themselves and the unlucky Stilinski men.
Stiles felt that the woods were friendlier and more inviting to him than anyone else in the village, including his friend Scott. He would wander around in the trees for hours on end, climbing or running or simply lying on the forest floor and staring at the treetops. His dad didn't know, and if the world continued in Stiles' favor, he never would know. If his dad found out, his visits to the forest would be more difficult and much more guilt-ridden.
Claudia Stilinski, Stiles' mother, had been killed by a wolf. The animal had been impossible to track and, therefore, unable to be killed, and Stiles' father was determined to keep his son as far away from accident as he could. Stiles knew that this was as much out of his father's sense of duty to Stiles' mother as it was his father's love for him. The knowledge made Stiles feel bad to be betraying both of his parents, but it couldn't keep him out of the forest.
The incident had happened three years ago and the new village had slowly become home to Stiles and his father. The people were friendly enough, but the Stilinski men had few friends, only the McCalls, Scott and his mother. Still, Stiles' father made a living, Stiles excelled in school, and with his father's long hours, Stiles had time to spend in the forest.
The only reason Stiles didn't feel worse about being in the forest against his father's wishes was the knowledge that he was free from danger, and this was because whenever Stiles went out, he had his wolf to protect him.
Stiles' confidence in the hulking black animal was founded in how they met, the day he ran off into the forest without thought.
On the anniversary of the death of Stiles' mother, after a year of living in the village and a year of time passing without her, the grief had hit Stiles in a way that it hadn't the first time. Once his dad had left the house, Stiles took off into the forest with the burning desire for something to happen that would wrench his mind away from the image of the last look he'd had of his mother. The "well thought out plan" turned out to be, surprisingly, successful.
Brooding in a clearing on the trunk of a fallen tree, Stiles had been about to give up his quest when heavy rustling in the bushes pushed him to his feet. He stared in shock and panic as a huge bear emerged. It hadn't noticed him initially, but after curiously sniffing the air, it caught the scent of human and it had turned its beady black eyes on Stiles. His flight instinct needed work because he had been paralyzed and he'd simply watched as the bear advanced on him with the clear intent to rip him apart. Stiles accepted this end as his legs still wouldn't move and mentally apologized to his dad for his recklessness, sure that this loss—and to another animal attack—would destroy the already struggling man. A low growl rumbled out of the bear's mouth and Stiles closed his eyes, not wanting to watch the monster get any closer to him.
His death had been stalled, though, by a vicious snarl ripping through the air. Stiles' eyes snapped back open and lit on a black wolf the size of a small horse. It was in front of him, blocking the bear from access to his soft, human body. The wolf growled at the bear and lunged toward it, snapping its jaws near the bear's legs and chest. The bear roared and swung a paw at the wolf's head but apparently got the message as it turned and waddled back the way it had come.
Breathing hard, Stiles' eyes widened when the wolf turned to him. He'd backed up a few steps, feeling backward for tree trunks, and the wolf had stayed still, watching him with red-tinted eyes. Stiles had stopped once he was about three feet away when he registered that the wolf wasn't coming for him. The wolf had seemed surprised, and Stiles crouched so they were on the same level. Slowly, and maybe more surprising to him than to the wolf, a smile spread on his face and he dug in his pocket for the bread he'd taken with him. As a show of gratitude, Stiles showed the wolf the food and reached out to place it on the ground in front of the animal.
He'd meant for it to be a symbolic gesture, but to his surprise, the wolf had sniffed the offering and had eaten it appreciatively. Stiles had smiled again, simply amazed that the wolf hadn't attacked him. The next day, the wolf had been awaiting his arrival at the edge of the forest and hadn't left his side the whole afternoon. The same happened day after day and Stiles soon found himself trusting and possibly befriending an animal of the same variety that had taken his mother away, an animal he had no real business associating with, but Stiles found himself unable to shake the wolf's presence and with no real desire to do so.