Readers! You're all so amazing and wonderful! I'm constantly opening my email to see favorite and follow and review notices. One day there were 12 of 'em. I'm glad everyone's enjoying the story so far, and after this chapter things pick up. The next one will be longer, too. Thank you, all. =)
The next morning, after saying goodbye to his father for the day, Stiles needed to go into the village to deliver the Sherriff's forgotten lunch. And as he left the police station, Stiles was approached by Erica and Isaac, both looking sheepish and refusing to meet his eyes directly.
"We're sorry for spreading the rumor about you," Isaac said without preamble, hands in his pockets and shoulders hunched a little. Stiles gaped, unable to form a reply.
Erica had never been shy as long as Stiles had known her, but her posture was similar to Isaac's. Her gaze was focused to the left of his head as she said, "We didn't start the rumor, but we were spreading it and convincing other people to believe it." Her fingers were twisted together and she seemed to bite her lip before adding, "We really are sorry and we're going to fix it, we promise." She elbowed Isaac and he looked up from the ground to nod.
Stiles was taken aback because he'd expected the rumor to go away without getting any apology from its carriers. But he recovered quickly. "Thanks, I would really appreciate that." His voice was stiff with anger and the two teenagers both looked down again. It felt kind of good. He stood in his place until both of his peers walked away and once they were gone he drew on all of his self-control to keep from sprinting to his house and into the woods. Instead, he walked away from the main activity of the village and, once away from the bustle, broke into the desired run, passing his house for the forest.
The teenager was so surprised by the fortunate turn of events that he waited impatiently for the wolf to appear so Stiles could laud the encounter he'd had. Thirty minutes passed and Stiles' excitement ebbed, replaced slowly by a cold feeling of dread. Feeling compelled by something he couldn't understand or explain, Stiles began following his feeling deeper into the forest.
With each step, the feeling in Stiles' stomach grew stronger and heavier and he continually told himself to turn back because he didn't want to find the source of the feeling. Something continued to push him onward, though. When the feeling was at its worst, Stiles knew that he was at the end of the trail and he hesitated, swallowing before advancing into the clearing just ahead. What he saw made his stomach drop and his heart leap.
A massive black wolf lay on its side at the edge of the open space. His flanks still rose and fell, but almost imperceptibly. Stiles staggered forward, noting the ruby red blood spattered on his wolf's fur and on the ground surrounding him, and he wondered what kind of creature could fell this powerful animal. Stiles shuddered to think of it.
After a moment more of staring at his unfortunate protector, a hot determination flooded through Stiles' veins. He approached his wolf and crouched in front of the animal's vision to let him know that he was there. Then, for the first time, Stiles touched his fingers to the inky fur and stroked it back, while contemplating how he should go about moving his wolf.
The massive animal whimpered a little and—remarkably—pressed into Stiles' touch. He lifted his hand and placed it on the wolf's side so the whole surface was touching the bristly fur that gave way to softer fluff beneath. Stiles ran his hand over the fur several times, noticing as he did so that the wolf seemed to relax marginally. Then he shook himself out of it and stood, bracing his weight to lift the wounded animal from the ground.
A high-pitched whine leaked from the wolf's throat and Stiles huffed as he took a few steps with the wolf's substantial added weight. "Everything's going to be okay. I'm going to get you Deaton and he'll fix you up. I'm not losing you, too."
Stiles wasn't sure how he managed it, but he transported the wolf from the abandoned clearing to the back door of Deaton's veterinary building, having had to make a big detour to avoid being seen. Growing worried since his wolf hadn't made any indication of life in several minutes, Stiles knocked frantically and shouted, "Come quick, I need help!" All was silent and Stiles paused to readjust his hold on the wolf before raising his fist again.
The door opened before Stiles' knuckles could hit and Deaton surveyed the scene before him quickly, Stiles noticed the man's eyes widening in his shock and concern. "Come in, come in, hurry." Deaton ushered Stiles inside and provided help with the weight of the wolf. Together, they carried the huge animal into a room with an examination table and laid him down on it.
Deaton began bustling around the room and Stiles rested one hand on the wolf's head, watching anxiously. The wolf whined again, high-pitched and long, causing Deaton to turn and look directly at the wolf. He then looked at Stiles and said, "You can go, I'll take care of him from here."
Stiles' eyes widened and he shook his head. "No, I can't go. It'll be fine, I'll stay out of your way and everything, promise." Deaton shook his head.
"I think it would be best if you went back home." His expression suggested that arguing was futile and Stiles walked toward the door.
"I'll be back tomorrow," he vowed before slipping out of the office, anxiety having tied knots in his stomach. He walked slowly back toward home and held onto the hope that Deaton was going to save his wolf's life, not end it.
Stiles glanced at the rest of the town, knowing that the hurried shoppers had no idea what was at stake for him, how totally he was depending on Deaton. The bookstore was the only building that reflected the seriousness of what happened. It was closed completely, so the absolute darkness of the store was displayed by the windows. He couldn't help thinking that it looked abandoned and he swallowed the sick feeling in his stomach.