Following Stiles around was normal for her. The people of Beacon Hills adjusted quite quickly to having a great white wolf following the teenaged boy, and his friends, around. What she wasn't expecting, was being at a tattoo parlor with Stiles and Scott. Mallory made sure to stay out of the artist's way, looking up at the picture Stiles held up, snorting at the picture of a kamina. She wasn't paying attention to anything they were saying, only looking over as Stiles fainted. She whined, moving over and licked at his face.
Scott chuckled, "Don't worry about him, Mal. He'll be fine." She looked over to him, and huffed, settling down next to him. It wasn't until the tattoo was complete that he began to stir. Mallory huffed a bark at him, nuzzling her head under his hand.
" Hey, Mal..Ugh. I fainted, didn't I?" He grumbled, looking over to Scott who nodded. He sighed, and pushed himself up, petting his wolf's head. Scott paid the artist, and the three of them made their way to Stiles's jeep. Stiles opened the door, allowing Mal to jump in first, before getting in himself. She settled into the backseat, putting her chin on the shoulder of the headrest in front of her.
Scott hissed, looking at him arm, "It kinda burns."
"Yes, you just had your skin stabbed about a hundred-thousand times by ah, a needle." Stiles said, a hand holding an ice pack to his head.
Scott sighed, "But I don't think it's supposed to feel like this." He jumped as a sharp pain ran through him, "It's definitely not supposed to feel like this. I need to get this thing off." Stiles shook his head, looking away while begging his friend not to. Mallory knew what was happening, but she just whined softly.
They watched as the ink slowly began to fade, shocked looks on their faces. She moved to look out of the window, deciding not to listen to the rest of the conversation. She laid down, head on her paws, eyes closed. Stiles slammed on the brakes, forcing her body forward into the front seats. She growled, readjusting herself on the seat, glaring into the rear view mirror. When they started to get out of the jeep, she followed, running forward quickly. She blinked at the deer, looking around, and howling, before running off into the forest, leaving the four on the road.
Mallory looked around the forest, searching for anything that would have spooked the deer enough to run into a car. She shifted, standing and looking around, her blue eyes prominent in the night. She could feel him, and she wasn't sure if he was close or far, and she could feel her heartbeat pick up its pace. Her eyes narrowed, looking to her right as wind blew.
"Hello, Pup. This is where you've been? Not surprising, you always did prefer familiar settings to new ones." A British voice commented behind her. She turned, blue eyes focusing on the advancing figure, and hands clenching into fists. Mallory was slightly surprised he was showing himself so soon, at least showing himself to her. She figured he wouldn't until it would be just the right time. He regarded her coolly, hands clasped together over his cane, and his covered eyes looking directly at her.
She began to growl, narrowing her eyes.
He chuckled, "Is that anyway to greet your father?" He took a few steps forward, and opened his arms, "Come here Pup. It's been far too long." She stared, nails digging into her palms, but slowly edged forward, letting herself be enveloped in his strong, and comforting, arms.
She leaned her cheek against his shoulder, "Why are you here?" She murmured, nuzzling slightly against him. Deucalion hummed, running a hand through her curled, white-blonde hair.
"You know why I'm here, dear."
Mallory sighed but nodded, wrapping her arms tighter around him, "I meant right now. Why show yourself to me now? What do you gain from it?"
Deucalion sighed, "A father couldn't come to see his daughter? It has been eight years. I do get lonely, Pup."
"You have your pack. You aren't lonely anymore." Mallory hissed, pushing away from him, and crossing her arms over her chest. His head tilted to the side, a small, sad, smile playing on his lips, seemingly like he knew why she pushed him away.
"It's not the same without you, Pup." Deucalion muttered, crossing his hands once again over his cane, "I do hope you would reconsider joining."
She bared her fangs, hissing at him, "I'd rather die, then become like you and your pack." Her father sighed heavily.
"I'd rather it not come to that, Pup. I almost lost you once." His features softened, and saddened, as the memory ran through his mind, "I do not want that to come to pass again. Have a goodnight, dear." With that, he turned and walked off, leaving his daughter standing in the woods, moon high in the sky. Mallory bit her lip, keeping the soft whimpers from escaping her lips. A hand moved to trace a scar, extending from her hip to shoulder, before shaking her head, shifting, and running back to Stiles's house.
The Sheriff let her in when she scratched at the door, and she quickly made her way up to Stiles's room. Pushing the cracked door open with her snout, she jumped straight onto the bed, laying down. Stiles looked over, a smile on his face, and he moved from his cork board, and flopped next to her, running his hands over her fur, before burying his face into her side. Mallory could feel his breathing even out, and she sighed, closing her eyes, trying to get her meeting with Deucalion out of her mind.