CHAPTER 1
A Game of Tag
In the black of the undergrowth a pair of hands, snug in kid gloves, undergirds a brown .44 Magnum revolver. A thirty something bald man with a nasal voice, unbecoming of his large stature, approaches.
"Do you need any help with this one, boss?" The man calls out.
"Not at this point. For now, I'm taking this one myself. You just go prepare your men," replies the gloved man with a raspy voice tinged by decades of cigar smoke. The younger man strides back into the brush. Gazing through the ocular lens of his gun, the elder mutters, "I'll get you my pretty and your little wolf too."
Both in jovial moods, Allison and Scott canter through the woods with smiles across their faces and their brown eyes shining more brightly than either of them has seen in a long time.
"Tag, you're it!" Allison yells as she taps Scott's back before hurdling over a modest stream, laughing, and running.
Scott stands still for a couple seconds with a devious grin as his eyes shift to red. He surmounts the stream landing on all fours, and races onwards to Allison's position. He pounces, colliding with and wrapping around her body, causing them both to roll around on the ground in a clearing where the full moon's illumination causes the night to appear practically as if it were day. Their jackets and jeans gather twigs and bits of moss. Allison lands on top of Scott.
"You just cheated," Allison says with a surly voice just short of giving into laughter.
Scott lets out a sigh, "God! You're just like Stiles!"
Allison gapes at Scott with a mild sense of shock and the two exchange exaggerated comical smirks.
With gratitude Scott declares "This was a great idea."
"I thought it would cheer you up," Allison responds before the two lean towards each other, eyes closed, with every intention to kiss.
Scott stops his lean and rotates his head, with dread and suspicion visibly having taken over. Allison pauses where she thought she would meet Scott's face, eyes gaping open, disoriented.
"Uh do you sense something?" she inquires.
Scott replies in hush tone, "Yeah I heard something, perhaps a couple hundred yards away. Don't know what though."
The pair breaks free of their entanglement and sprout to their feet.
"You think maybe it's time we got back home?" Scott asks while checking over his shoulder, his brow tensed.
"Yeah that's probably a good idea," Allison acknowledges while nervously pulling a knife out from under her belt.
The pair marches in the direction of the road where Scott had parked his bike. Both their throats gulp due to a combination of fear, which neither one would admit to, and the annoyance stemming from being caught off guard.
"Maybe we should call somebody…" remarks Allison as she begins to pull out her phone.
"Yeah maybe we should," replies Scott yanking his phone out with rapid speed.
"Oh damn it," he utters, "Battery's dead. You?"
"Mine's fine," Allison answers as she begins dialing.
BANG!
A bullet shatters her phone creating a small light show which burns Allison's hand.
"Christ!" she yells flummoxed.
"Come on, run!" Scott yells as he uproots her from her temporary shock.
The pair sprint but as quickly as they try to escape, the distant gun is fired again. The bullet glides straight into Allison's left shin conjuring a violent shriek, as she tumbles onto the forest floor. Scott, who had just lost her grip doubles back, bends down, as hauls her as a groom would a bride heading off for a honeymoon. More gunshots are heard, as Scott storms away, face drenched with ire. He continues for two, three, four minutes. However long it takes he is not sure, as long as they're in relative safety. He can no longer hear the gunfire or any other unusual noises, so he halts at the foot of a tall maple.
"Hey, hey, here you go," he says with concern in his voice as he lowers Allison onto the slightly damp ground, propping her up against the tree.
Allison finds herself to be in almost too much pain to speak. She begins to open her mouth.
"Hey," Scott says, almost reassuringly, while feeling her forehead and neck, "Don't speak now. It's alright."
Allison disregards his comment, and instead questions while writhing in intense pain, "Do you think we'll be alright here?"
Scott answers, "For now, I think. I'm going to check your wound," before tearing open a hole in her jeans where the bullet had entered, and physically inspects her wound.
"How bad is it?" Allison questions while grimacing whenever Scott touches the sore tissue. "Ahh! Eeeh!" Allison moans as the pangs climb up her leg.
"Sorry!"
Fifteen seconds pass.
Scott releases a slight sigh of relief.
"Luckily the bullet didn't seem to hit a major artery, and it's not too deep. I just may be able to remove it!"
He leans forward marginally.
Nearly choking, Allison bursts out, "Oh God! You've been shot too."
"Yeah, twice actually," Scott replies as if his injuries were merely a difficult move in a game of chess.
"But Scott, your wounds are glowing blue!" Allison remarks with a growing sense of terror combined with bafflement.
Scott quickly gazes at the blue spots on his right leg, the colour reminding him of that octopus he had seen in a nature film in biology class, before turning back to Allison who holds her head and avows, "We've been shot by hunters!"
"I know," Scott says as he takes off his jacket and hands it to Allison, "Just tear it up into long, thick strips, would you?"
"Sure," Allison replies.
"Oh, and leave a small bit about the size of a facecloth. Now I'm gonna gather up some large sticks so that I can remove the bullet from your wound, bandage you up and put your leg into a splint," Scott asserts as he erects his frame.
He wanders around the tree for a couple yards gathering long sticks.
As Allison is ripping the jacket she ponders, "I wonder who the hunter is… or hunters are. They shot my phone so they have great aim, and know you're a wolf."
"I don't know," Scott nonchalantly answers returning back with five or six long sticks, ignoring the black liquid exuding from his thigh and ankle, and the sharp ache which accompanies each step.
Allison cringes at the sight of Scott's wounds. He crouches back down beside her.
"Okay, can I have one of your pocket knives?" Scott requests with a slightly distressed face.
Despite knowing what he wants it for, Allison's face still tenses up as she reaches for it.
"Here you go," she says as she hands it to him.
Scott lets out an extended breath and proclaims, "This is going to hurt a lot so please use that piece of jacket I told you to leave…"
"…This one?" Allison responds as she holds it up.
"Yeah, use that if you have to scream," Scott instructs, "after all, don't want to alert the hunters. So, you ready?"
"Just go on," Allison replies with a facade of fearlessness.
"Okay, here I go." Scott takes a deep breath as Allison places the fabric into her mouth.
Scott gingerly inserts the knife into Allison's wound. Despite being densely muffled by fabric, Allison's screaming rings in Scott's ears reminding him once again why his werewolf powers are not always a good thing. He delicately veers the knife perpendicular to the blade's edge, and with his free hand pricks the bullet out of the wound. Whew! He wrests a piece of fabric and arranges it on the wound, clamping down to apply pressure. Unfortunately he can't sterilize the wound. Of course we have to be the only teenagers in North America to not carry a flask at all times. He can't even rinse it due to having no peroxide, and the fact that the nearest stream is in the opposite direction.
"Anyway I'm going to bandage you now," Scott conveys as he reaches for a couple of fabric strips.
Allison gags and pulls the piece she had out of her mouth.
She says somewhat distractedly, "The hunter has to be someone who knows us."
"Well that's an interesting way of thanking me." Scott says withdrawn.
"What? Oh god, I'm sorry! Thank you Scott," Allison responds extending her hand to grab Scott's holding it for several seconds, and her lips nearly forming a smile, "It's just…"
"I know. I've been wondering the same thing," he says with half a smile, as Allison removes her hand leaving him free to tie a strip tightly around her leg. "Allison, do you have any idea why they shot us in the leg and not the body?"
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Whew! My first proper chapter! Hope you enjoy it. Please read and review. (I just came back and corrected the dialogue formatting.)
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Teen Wolf or any of its characters, just this story.