Scott sucked at meditating.

It was his tenth attempt in an hour. Based on what he'd read, meditating was supposed to help you learn to focus. In theory, this would help him find his center, so he could learn to make peace with the Other. Or something to that effect.

All one needed to do was empty his or her mind and simply be aware of the moment, which didn't seem that difficult to Scott. But every time he tried to clear his mind, thoughts came flooding in. He felt anything but peaceful.

Clearly, he was doing something wrong.

He managed to sleep well the night before, in spite of everything. The only dreams he had had been pleasant ones, free from the worries that had dogged his past few days. When he woke, he felt a calmness radiating throughout his body.

He decided to research ways he could recapture that feeling. Deaton implied he needed to accept his werewolf side if he hoped to master and try as he might, Scott would not succeed in banishing the beast to exile in the far reaches of his psyche. After a few hours of diligent searching, Scott figured meditation was the best option to achieve his goal of facing the monster within.

At first he worried it was too touchy feely, but he had read about how ancient warriors and ninjas in Japan meditated in order to allow themselves to rise to the pinnacle of the art of the sword. Ninjas were definitely bad-ass. Scott decided that if it was good enough for a ninja, it was good enough for him.

He first attempted to meditate that morning, but he kept losing interest and falling asleep. Then, his mom had interrupted with lunch. So now, it was mid-afternoon and he still had yet to find his center.

He repositioned himself on his bed, legs crossed, arms relaxed. He shrugged his shoulders a few times, trying to loosen up.

"Ok, Scott, you can do this," he said, rolling his head in a circle. "Meditate…now!"

He inhaled, and then exhaled, focusing his attention on the sound of his breath. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale.

Soon, he noticed something. The sounds around him became clearer. He could hear his mother downstairs, turning the pages in her book. He could also hear the steady beat of her heart. Then, he picked up the Hendersons down the street arguing about where to position the new divan. Then, he heard the tell-tale crunch of a fender bender on the other side of town.

Crap.

His concentration was running away from him. He refocused on his breathing, noticing the information bombarding his senses, but not dwelling on any single thing.

Just when he thought nothing was happening, the sounds and smells of his neighborhood melted away.

Confused, Scott found himself in an enormous forest. It was night. There was no moon, only stars. Trees towered over him. On his right was a fast-moving stream as clear as a pane of glass.

He was running. Although he seemed to be going full speed, he felt he could maintain this pace for hours without tiring. The crisp air smelled of pine and all the joys summer had to offer.

The warm evening air refreshed him. The jitters from before vanished, leaving Scott feeling calm, unhurried.

But he soon realized he wasn't alone. On his left he sensed a presence keeping pace with him as he ran. It moved without sound, but Scott could feel its eyes on him. He ventured a glance to see what was accompanying him on his run.

It was a wolf, black as the night sky above. The teen stumbled, but quickly regained his balance.

There was something familiar about it, but he couldn't figure out what. Alarmed, Scott quickened his pace but found he couldn't shake his silent running partner. They ran and ran, sometimes faster, sometimes slower, but the animal always kept pace.

He thought they would continue this way forever but the forest abruptly ended and opened out onto a cliff's edge. Scott skidded to a halt.

Scott reeled around and found himself staring into the yellow eyes of his pursuer. Surprisingly, the wolf made no attempt to close the distance between them. It simply stood still and looked at him.

"What do you want?" he asked. The wolf said nothing. Not that Scott expected it to. Even for a werewolf, talking animals seemed a bit of a stretch. He stared at it, fascinated. He'd never seen a real wolf before. This was the creature that he supposedly shared kinship with and Scott marveled at what it was like to be up close to a real, live wolf. He thought he should be more frightened than he was.

"Go away!"

In an instant, the wolf leaped and tackled Scott to the dirt. Snarling, the wolf pinned him against the ground with its powerful forelegs. Scott could do nothing but stare into the creature's face. For a moment, the wolf simply loomed above him, teeth bared. It growled, but did not strike out at him. The message was clear—it would not yield to Scott's demand. It would not go away.

Then, something extraordinary happened.

The wolf blinked its eyes. When they opened, they were brown, human. The wolf blinked again and the eyes reverted to yellow, once more.

"Scott! Time for dinner!"

His mother's voice yanked him back to his bedroom, breaking the spell. Seemed there was something to this mediation stuff, after all.