Stiles is running late, of course he is, his alarm doesn't go off the one day he actually needed to be somewhere. He'd promised to go over to Ms. Winnifred White's house for lunch. He'd pick up her groceries on the way, it was freezing and honestly the last thing he wanted was her driving in that weather, or slipping on ice. Winnifred had been like a grandmother to him since the moment he was born, she's an old family friend and had only recently moved further away from the town into a smaller house. She said there was no use cleaning a whole big house that only she lived in anymore, and Stiles had promptly offered to help her with any errands or chores she needed done.
He picks his ass out of bed and doesn't bother to make himself anything to eat, he grabs the keys to his jeep and drives to the grocery store, he makes a point to go in and grab the already prepared bags and not talk to anybody. He runs back to the jeep and starts the engine, cursing himself the entire way, she's going to be so disappointed he was late.
Stiles remembered when he was almost six years old, he'd insisted on helping her bake the pie for Christmas and he'd nearly burnt his hand off sticking it into the oven before she'd grabbed him and scolded him lightly for it. His dad was always fond of her, but she was really close with Stiles' mom, which is part of the reason he refused to let her out of his life. So much of his mom was there, in pictures she had and memories about when not only he was young, but when his parents were dating. He smiles to himself, she feels like a grandparent, which is something he hasn't had for a long time. He likes spending time with her, she's old and sweet and her house has unnecessary doilies everywhere but he doesn't mind because he think's it's cute. She still bakes him cookies and pinches his cheeks and he doesn't really think he'll ever have the heart to tell her he;s basically grown up and she doesn't have to anymore.
He pulls down to her street which is...blocked off. She lives about a mile after infrequent trees lining the road become a full blown forest, Stiles sighs and turns off the main road. It's bumpy, but he can do this, at least he thinks he can until his jeep slides on the ice and he slams on the breaks.
"Nope, no, no." he mutters to himself, shaking his head and taking the keys out of the ignition. His car will be fine there until he gets back and if someone else pulls up, well, then they'll have to deal and thank Stiles later for inadvertently saving their lives from killer ice patches. He grabs the groceries in their canvas bags out of the back seat, slings the straps over each of his shoulders and begins walking. It 's marginally more difficult that he would've liked, trying to avoid the ice patches, but he keeps himself motiviated by chanting 'don't break the eggs, she'll fucking kill you if you break the eggs' and that's probably totally true. Stiles sees his breath in front of his face as he huffs, and is suddenly very aware that the only outward layer of protection against the cold he's wearing is his red hoodie. He pauses for a moment and pulls up the hood, making sure it covers his ears before he continues on. He curses under his breath, he's pretty sure it's not even supposed to be this cold, every news station is saying it's the coldest it's been in like, ever, and everyone's kinda freaked out about it.
Occasionally, he'll look around into the forest, though the thick winter fog prevents him from seeing very far. He feels tense, and he doesn't like it. It's that feeling of tightness you get in your chest, usually accompanied by the need to get the fuck out of wherever you currently are. He tries to school his breathing and quicken his pace but all hope of moving, like, at all, is cut short when he hears a low growl emanating from the woods. Oh, jesus. He turns, and why the hell would he want to see the thing that was going to kill him, and faces the woods. Two glowing red dots stand out from the fog, from the rest of a giant, hulking shape almost obscured into the treeline. It's still, absolutely still, staring at Stiles as Stiles stares back.
"oh, shit." he whispers because he's going to die, he is, he's going to die and Winnie's never going to get her groceries and there'll be dead bloody parts of him strewn around the woods and he'll break the eggs. He wants to run, everything in him is telling him to run but all he can do is look at this...thing. And then it takes off, in one giant bound it's further into the forest and Stiles has no intention of hanging around. He runs as fast as he can, jumping over the ice he can see, until he's rapping hurriedly on Winnie's back door, trying desperately to catch his breath. In less than a minute the door was wrenched open and Winnie was staring back at him, ushering him into the house.
"Look at you," she tuts, "you're shivering and your eyes, my dear, your eyes are so large. You look like you've seen a ghost." Stiles swallows nervously,
"No, not a ghost," he shakes his head and takes a breath, blinking,
"it was uh...I think it was a wolf."
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Also, if anyone's interested in Beta-ing this I would be so grateful!