Stiles was given no time to think as at that moment the creature in front of him surged forward, intending to throw him to the ground. Stiles jerked back, raised his pipe, and swung it against the creature's body. Again, it bounced off like rubber and this time the creature chuckled. "Not so easy, is it, boy?" it said. It continued to push Stiles back down the hallway and farther away from the Pack, who were now all engaged in fights with the two other identical creatures.
Stiles swung the pipe again, aiming for its stomach, when with a great strength the creature grabbed the pipe in his hand, stopping it short. He tore it out of Stiles' fingers, throwing it into an empty room beside them where it clattered loudly on the cement floor. "All this, just to get something to eat. Sometimes I wonder if you humans are worth it." Before Stiles could register what had happened, the creature grabbed his arm and threw him into the room, following quickly and closing the door behind him, turning the lock shut.
The room was large, most likely an old classroom or a room that had once held the large computers of the 1980s. All that it held now were broken desks and old filing cabinets shoved against the walls. And, Stiles realised, one terrified-looking student.
It was the student the creature had led through the door, the one that had caught Scott's attention in the first place. He was curled up in a corner between two desks, a deep gash and a myriad of lacerations – nail imprints – circling his arm. He couldn't have been more than a freshman, his fear making his features look even younger.
"I thought I was only going to have one meal tonight, but I suppose I can have two. It's a good thing I'm not on a diet." The creature smirked.
Stiles turned towards him, anger flashing across his face. "Let him go," he demanded.
The creature laughed. "You humans. You think by just asking us to leave, that we'll actually do it. But you see, I didn't come here to have a nice chitchat, I came here to eat! So just go and sit down by the little human over there, and it will all be over before you know it! It'll hurt at first, yes, but that is simply the way it has to be. If you settle down and be quiet, perhaps I'll eat your hearts, first!"
The boy whimpered behind him and Stiles clenched his teeth, digging his nails into his palms. He wasn't aware of the air that had begun circling around his hands, of the wind that was starting to drift around his feet, shifting the dust away, its energy slowly building as it readied to fight.
The creature didn't notice either, continuing to advance on Stiles with its claws and teeth bared, a wicked smile stretched wide across its face. Stiles took a few steps back, unconsciously raising his arms by his sides, his fingers slowly opening as air began to gather in the palms of his hands, swirling and cascading over and through his fingers and up his arms. Silence fell in the room for only a moment, before the creature suddenly surged forward, its hand raised over Stiles and ready to fall. At that same moment Stiles spread his arms wide and shouted, the wind that he had gathered lashing outwards and picking the creature up off the floor and throwing him against wall with an almighty crack.
The creature slumped to the floor and Stiles stared, his eyes wide as he realised for the first time what he had just done. His thoughts then turned to the boy and he immediately spun around to look for the young teenager, finding him cowering behind his arms in the corner of the room, his face turned away from him and towards the wall. Stiles ran over to him, grabbing his arm where the boy jerked with a painful start, looking up at him with wide eyes. "Come on, let's go," Stiles said, pulling the boy to his feet.
The boy's eyes turned and latched onto the creature who still lay on the ground, his face stricken with fear. Stiles blocked his view and quickly began pulling him over to the door, unlatching it and pulling it open. "Run," he said, pushing the boy towards the stairs. "Get out of here, now!" The boy took a few steps forward, looking back at Stiles for only a second before the sounds of fighting echoed from down the hall and he immediately ran to the stairs, running up and out the door.
Stiles let himself feel a brief moment of relief before he turned his attention down the hallway where Scott, Lydia, and Kira still were, one creature lying on the ground while they all fought the other. He took a step forward, about to go and help them when suddenly he felt fingers wrapping around his neck and pulling him back into the room, where the door closed and latched behind him with a bang. He was lifted off the ground and thrown through the air, heading straight towards a cement wall filled with large, metal cabinets.
Stiles braced himself, waiting for the impact of the sharp metal corners or the cement wall itself, but the impact never came. Instead he felt as though he'd collided into a pillow, as though something had caught him before he could crash. Opening his eyes he found himself mere inches from the wall, and more than a few feet still above the floor. Panic began to set in but before it could take hold, whatever force was holding him – the air, a voice in the back of his mind whispered – set him down gently on the floor, his feet stepping back onto solid ground.
Laughter suddenly resounded through the room and Stiles looked up to see the creature giving him a big, toothy smile. "I can't believe it," it said, taking a few steps towards Stiles. "I can't believe it! Here I was just looking for my next meal and instead I find the Blessed sitting on my plate, instead!" He shook his head, continuing to grin. "The boys will sure be jealous when I get back and tell them what I had for lunch!"
Stiles shifted on his feet, his shoulders tensing as he back against the wall. This time he knew what he had to do, and opening his palms he began to gather the air once more.
The creature continued forward, unaware of what was happening. It's eyes were wide in gleeful surprise, and Stiles could almost see the wheels churching behind them as it spoke. "To think! The Blessed was here in this shoddy little town. People sure have been waiting for you, boy. They've been waiting for a very long time…."
Striking first, Stiles raised his hand and released a lash of wind towards the creature. The creature was ready this time, though, and crossed his arms in front of him, bracing himself against the impact. The force of the wind pushed him back several feet, but was unable to throw him to the ground. Looking up, the creature grinned. "You're not as powerful as they said you'd be," he commented, making his way towards Stiles once more. "But then, they said you would be a lot of things –."
This time a lash like a whip struck the creature's face, cutting in his skin and leaving a deep gash bleeding across the right side of his face. The creature's neck was snapped back, its words ripped from its mouth. He turned back to Stiles with a snarl, ready to surge forward when Stiles raised his hand again, gripping the wind and bringing it down across the creature once more. The creature jumped out of the way, rolling onto its side and crouching onto its feet. Wind had begun churning around the room, creating a vortex and causing the desks and cabinets to shudder where they stood, whipping both Stiles and the creature's hair against their heads, their clothes beating against their bodies.
The creature fought against the wind, slowly rising to its feet, its eyes narrowed as its mouth turned into a smirk. "You're younger than they said you'd be," he said above the growing noise of the wind. "A man, they said, would rise up and defeat the Darkness, would stop the coming Death, would hold the power of the world in the palm of his hand. A man – not a boy." The creature stalked towards him and Stiles willed the wind to move faster, to push the creature down, but the creature remained where he was, words still falling out of his mouth, words that Stiles still barely understood.
Pounding suddenly sounded from the door and Stiles could hear Scott shouting from behind it, shimmying at the knob and trying to break in. A moment later the door cracked open and Scott stumbled inside.
Caught off guard by the sudden change in dynamics, the vortex Stiles had been creating became unbalanced and Stiles suddenly found himself thrown across the room, rolling across the floor in a heap. When he looked up he could see the creature being whipped violently across the room where a moment later it crashed into the wall, its head cracking violently against the cement.
The wind died down until it completely disappeared, leaving Stiles staring at the creature's body with wide, stunned eyes. A moment later the body disintegrated, turning into a pile of dust.
"Stiles!"
Scott was suddenly by his side and Stiles quickly got to his feet, shaking off the shock and gathering himself back together, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he regained his breath. Stiles looked at Scott, who was looking at him in return, his features silently asking if he was all right. Stiles nodded, letting out a shaky breath. "Yeah, yeah, I'm all right, I'm fine. The kid – the kid's fine too, he made it out. He got out."
They both looked at each other for a long moment, quickly passing unspoken words until a few moments later the rest of the Pack rushed in, looking for each other and trying to make sure everyone was all right.
Besides being cut and bruised, all of them had made it through the fight relatively unharmed. Stiles later found out that the creatures the rest of the Pack had been fighting had suddenly disappeared sometime towards the end of his own fight, at which point Scott had realised Stiles was missing and had immediately gone looking for him, the Pack shortly arriving after.
When asked about what had happened to him, Stiles had replied that he'd been cornered in the room and that Scott was the one who had killed the final creature. The Pack were somewhat confused but accepted the answer, all except Liam, who gave Stiles and Scott a suspicious look that said he knew they weren't telling the whole truth. He didn't say anything, however, much to Stiles' relief, and the group eventually made their way back upstairs into the school, where they spoke in rushed whispers about what it was that they'd just fought. Lydia suggested they go meet Deaton later that evening and ask him, to which everyone agreed.
Stiles quickly made his way to his jeep, his hand gripping the strap of his backpack tightly against his chest, hoping that no one would see him and start to ask questions before he could escape. He eventually made it to the vehicle and quickly got inside, shutting the door beside him. He started the engine and watched as the rest of the group went to each of their own vehicles; his eyes followed Scott as he walked towards him, expecting him to get on his bike, but instead he made his way to the passenger side of Stiles' jeep, opened the door, and got inside.
"What, am I your personal chauffer, now?" Stiles asked. Scott just gave him a look. Stiles sighed. "Fine, just call be Mr. Branson."
They both knew exactly where they were going without ever having to say a word, because they knew that what needed to be discussed could only be discussed in private. Thirty-minutes later they arrived in the clearing, the late afternoon sun shining warmly across the glade.
Stiles filled Scott in as best he could on what had happened, including what the creature had said about Stiles being the Blessed. As Stiles walked back and forth in the clearing, his arms animated and his voice high, he seemed to finally be having the Major Freak-Out that he'd promised himself so long ago.
"I mean, I just don't get it!" he said, walking away from Scott who was sitting on the ground, looking up at him. "What the hell is all this stuff about the Blessed anyway? And why the hell does everyone seem to know everything about it but me?!"
Scott gave his friend a sympathetic look. "I don't know, Stiles; but I promise we'll figure it ou –."
"You can't promise something like that, Scott," Stiles said, shaking his head and walking away. "No, I think I'm going to go to my grave without ever knowing who or what the hell I am. Not knowing what's going on seems to be the definition of my life."
Scott sighed. "Stiles –."
"And what the hell is all this with my powers?" Stiles asked, spinning back around. "I was told that I was an elemental, which seems pretty self-explanatory when you think about it, but it turns out it doesn't mean shit, because why not just take words and give them new meanings, huh? Because that's not messed up at all!"
"Stiles, you just have to be patient!" Scott finally broke in. "It hasn't even been a month since all this started; you can't expect to have everything already figured out –."
"Oh don't give me that 'patience' bullshit, Scott McCall; I can't – I can't even begin to tell you how much that pisses me off."
Scott sighed for what felt like the hundredth time that afternoon, choosing to stay silent instead of saying anything and setting Stiles off more than he already was.
"I just… I just don't get it…" Stiles said after a few moments, his back turned to Scott and looking off into the trees.
As Stiles trailed off, Scott ventured carefully forward. "What don't you get, Stiles?"
"I can move the air with my hands, Scott," Stiles replied, turning back around. "The air! With my hands! With my freakin' mind! I didn't… I didn't even try to move it, and it moved – you know? And that storm – for all that's holy, that storm – it reacted to me! It reacted to my emotions, to what I was feeling! You heard what Lydia said – there wasn't supposed to be any storm that day, there wasn't supposed to be any rain and do you know what happened?!"
"It rained."
"It rained! It was a freakin' hailstorm like nothing I'd ever seen before; all the teachers were saying they hadn't seen it storm like that since they were kids themselves, so not only am I giving people a show, I'm giving people a freakin' once-in-a-lifetime show. And I hadn't meant to do a single bit of it." He suddenly spun on his heel and began walking back to Scott, his hands raised in the air questioningly. "Is this what it's always going to be like now? I have to watch what I'm feeling because if I don't, the air or the weather or whatever might decide to react to it? As an excuse to do weird, crazy, phenomenon-type-things that will freak everyone out? Because that's not fair. I may not exactly be human anymore, but that doesn't mean I should have to become as emotionally constipated as a Jedi!"
Scott opened his mouth to reply when suddenly something by Stiles' feet caught his eye. He blinked, then blinked again, watching as the grass around Stiles' feet began to twitch and then began to grow. It grew several inches, reaching up and gently brushing against his shoes and ankles. Stiles never stayed in one spot for long, but wherever he walked the grass grew, looking greener and healthier than the rest of the grass around it. Scott stared, eyes wide and eyebrows raised, then managed to open his mouth. "Um, Stiles?"
" – and another thing! What the hell am I supposed to tell my dad? 'Hey Dad, just wanted to let you know that your son can control the air, the wind, and now the weather, just thought you should know. Oh, by the way, he's also something called the Blessed, which we don't know what the fuck that is about –."
"Stiles –."
" – but that's okay, because in the end we don't really know what any of this is, so welcome to the Clueless Club! Here we just walk around all day not knowing anything –."
"Stiles!"
" – but hey, at least we have jackets."
"STILES!"
"What?!"
Scott held Stiles' gaze for a brief moment, before looking significantly down. Stiles stared at him, shaking his head questioningly before following his gaze and looking down at his feet.
Stiles' eyes went wide and he jumped back off the now foot-length grass, staring at it incredulously. "What… h-holy shit." He took a few more steps away and both boys watched as he left footprints of grass growing behind him. The entire area where he'd been pacing looked like a lush field of green, rolling gently in the wind.
Stiles backed up until he bumped into a tree, unable to take his eyes off the ground. A tingling sensation ran through his body and he froze, looking at Scott with wide eyes.
At first nothing happened; then after a moment Stiles felt something nudge at the back of his mind, and suddenly he was acutely aware of the life that was within the tree; not a sentient, conscious life, but something that was growing, always growing, being fed and feeding everything around it. He could feel the roots digging deep beneath the soil, could feel the leaves dancing on the branches, whispering gently in the wind. He could feel it reaching towards him, feeding him, calming him, becoming a part of him –
Suddenly he heard someone gasp. "Stiles!"
The voice broke through the reverie he had fallen into and his eyes snapped back to Scott from where they'd drifted unseeingly to the side. Scott was looking at his arms so Stiles looked down; rather than pale flesh, his arms that were touching the tree were now covered in a mixture of shrubbery and moss, gently wrapping around him like a blanket.
Reality came crashing down on him and Stiles jerked away, the moss tearing and sprinkling to the ground. His arm quickly began turning back to normal. He looked up at the tree, trying to understand what had happened, when he suddenly became aware that, unlike the others, the tree was slightly hunched over, its leaves and branches hanging over him, as though they were actually reaching towards him.
Scott came up beside him, his attention still on Stiles' arms, not having noticed the now oddly-bent tree. He looked up at Stiles' face, his eyes wide. "What on earth was that?!"
His choice of words gave Stiles the answer before he even really had to think.
Earth. One of the four elements. Alayna had said that she wouldn't be surprised if more elements came under his control, in fact she had all but assured that they would. He just hadn't known when.
Stiles continued to stare at the tree for a few moments before finally speaking. "Well that… I think it's safe to say that's the most bizarre thing I've ever experienced in my life; and with the life we lead, that's saying something."
Both boys glanced back at the unusually tall grass still waving in the wind behind them. After a long minute of silence, Scott voiced what they both were asking. "So is this… is this a new… a new power?"
Stiles swallowed. "Well the four elements are air, earth, fire, and water, so…." Stiles trailed off and Scott looked up, giving as comforting a look he could give.
"Well you were just complaining that you didn't know enough about your powers, so now you know a bit more, right?"
Stiles frowned, a frown set on his face as his eyes fell across the tree and over the grass. The headache that had started to form earlier was now throbbing painfully against his temple. "I'm gonna sleep on it," he said, turning around and making his way to the path that led back to the jeep. "I'm gonna sleep on it for a very, very long time."
Scott quickly walked after him, his eyes glancing back one last time at the clearing before turning back to Stiles. "Hey, don't forget – we're meeting everyone at Deaton's in an hour, remember?"
Stiles sighed. "All right, we'll go to Deaton, ask him what the hell kind of creature likes to eat students as their meals, and then I'll sleep on it."
An hour later everyone was gathered at Deaton's, describing to him what had happened and what the creature had looked like.
"So you're saying there were four of them?" Deaton asked, raising an eyebrow. They all nodded.
"One was fighting Scott, another was fighting Liam and I, one was fighting Lydia and Kira, and the other was after Stiles," informed Malia.
"And he had sharp teeth?"
"Like a shark's," Liam said. "And his eyes were slits like a cat."
Deaton frowned, looking away as he thought, thumbing through an old book that he had laid out in front of him. Stiles crossed his arms and glanced at Scott who returned the look, before turning his attention back to Deaton.
Silence fell over the room for nearly five minutes, the pages of the book slipping quietly through Deaton's fingers, until finally he stopped, his eyes resting on a single page towards the end. "Did all four look alike?" he asked after a moment.
Everyone looked at each other, then Lydia spoke. "Well we didn't exactly have time to check each one; we were kinda busy."
Deaton gave her a look in return for her sass, but didn't say anything in response. Then Liam spoke up, "They all smelled the same," he said, glancing at Scott and Malia for confirmation. Both of them nodded. Liam turned back to Deaton. "Is that the same as looking the same?"
Deaton nodded. "Yes. If they each had the exact same scent, then it most likely confirms my theory."
Scott raised an eyebrow. "Which is…?"
"That there weren't four separate creatures fighting you, but one."
"One?" Lydia repeated. "How could there have been only one? There was four of them!"
"It duplicated itself. Three were merely decoys, feeding off the real one. It's a tactic used to cause a distraction when fighting a large group; makes it easier to feed or obtain its goal that way."
A few of them frowned, as the same question ran through everyone's mind. "Which was the real one, then?" Malia finally asked, looking around at the rest of the Pack.
Neither Scott nor Stiles spoke, neither wanting to lead the conversation where they both knew it was already going.
"Isn't it obvious?" Lydia asked. "The ones that we had been fighting out in the hallways all just suddenly disappeared; the only one that was still there was the one Scott killed in the room with Stiles."
Everyone's eyes turned to Scott, who turned his own eyes to Deaton. "It's true," he said. "After the ones we were fighting disappeared, I could still smell one in the room nearby – so I went inside and killed it. It turned into dust."
Deaton frowned. "It turned into dust?" Scott nodded. "Hmm…." Deaton began leafing through the book again, rubbing a hand across his chin. "It might not be what I thought it was, then. I'll have to do some more research before I can be certain. I'll make sure to let you guys know when I figure it out."
"You don't think there'll be more?" Kira asked.
Deaton shook his head. "No, I don't think so. Most creatures that go after people for food travel in packs, but if one of their members die, the rest will usually leave the area to find somewhere safer. That there weren't any others with it suggests that it was a loner, separate from its group. That you haven't seen any since then is also a good sign that there won't be more to come."
A tangible feeling of relief swept over the Pack and a few of them smiled, glad to have the weight of worry off their shoulders. "Good," Liam said. "I think I've had enough of searching for people, ever since we went looking for Stiles –."
"Liam!" Scott cut off, shooting a glare at the younger wolf. Deaton glanced between the two, his eyebrow raised.
"What's this?" he asked.
"It's nothing," Scott replied, shooting Liam a dark, pointed look.
To his surprise, Liam didn't back down, but rather straightened up and glared right back. "No it's not," he said. "I know something's going on with you guys and I've had enough of nobody telling me anything! Just because I'm the youngest doesn't mean –."
"Liam, I swear, if you don't shut up –."
"Hey Scott, take it easy," Malia said, stepping between the two werewolves. She looked over at Liam. "Liam, that was a bit of a dick move and you know it. Not to mention completely immature." She turned back to Scott. "But he's right. There's no harm in telling Deaton what happened with Stiles; besides, he should probably know when these kind of things have happened."
"What happened with Stiles?" Deaton asked impatiently, realising just how significant this thing was that they weren't telling him. Stiles gave Malia a wide-eyed look of disbelief, shaking his head rapidly along with Scott.
Malia ignored them. "Stiles was kidnapped by a witch," she said. Stiles bit back a growl of annoyance and Scott continued to shoot disapproving looks in Malia and Liam's direction.
Deaton raised his eyebrows, turning his attention to Stiles. "You were taken by a witch?" he asked. "When did this happen?"
"It happened a few weeks ago," Stiles said quickly while shrugging his shoulders, trying to convey that it was no big deal. "She thought I was a werewolf and that I could lead her to the True Alpha, but I wasn't and I didn't, and then Scott showed up and killed her and now we're both here and we're fine, so can we please just forget about it?"
"Did she hurt you?" Deaton asked.
Stiles did his best to appear nonchalant. "She knocked me around a bit, but nothing more. It was just a really boring week where she kept me alone in a room the whole time; seriously – it's no big deal."
Deaton stared at Stiles a moment longer before turning his attention to Scott. "You killed her?" he asked.
Scott nodded. "Yeah; she was about to kill Stiles so I shoved my hand through her chest. She died right away."
"And you burned her, right?"
Both Stiles and Scott blinked, and a sudden silence fell over the room.
"What?" Scott asked after a long moment, unsure he'd heard right.
"I said, did you burn her?" Deaton looked between Scott and Stiles, an eyebrow raised expectantly. At their lack of reply, his eyebrow lowered into a look of slight wariness. "You do know that witches need to be burned in order to be killed, don't you?"
Neither of them spoke, and suddenly Stiles could feel his heart begin to beat faster within his chest and could hear the rush of blood pumping in his ears.
At their continued silence, Deaton finally realised what they weren't saying. "You didn't burn her," he stated flatly.
Scott finally shook his head. "We – we didn't… I didn't know witches needed to burned in order to die."
The room was suddenly filled with a tension so thick it could be cut with a knife, everyone looking at each other with stunned and shocked expressions marked across their faces. Stiles' heart was now pounding loudly in chest and seeing Scott glance towards him, he knew his friend could hear it too. He tightened his fists inside his hands, finding his palms slick with sweat.
"Are you sure?" Scott asked, shifting his gaze from Stiles to Deaton, his muscles taught beneath his skin. "Because I ran my hand through her heart and her body disappeared afterwards; I assumed it turned to dust like that creature –."
Deaton's eyes remained on Stiles for a long moment before turning back to Scott, his voice level and calm as he spoke. "Well we obviously can't be certain she's alive until we see evidence of it for ourselves, but I'll be honest with you – I have yet to see a case where a witch dies without being burned." He turned around to the rest of the Pack. "So it'd be best to keep your eyes open for the next while," he said, looking at each of them in turn. "Take note of anything suspicious that you see or hear. Witches aren't like regular supernatural creatures; they are largely, in essence, completely human. Greed is one of their major driving factors, so use that against them if you can. I'll start working on something tonight that will help identify nearby magic; hopefully I'll be able to get it ready before anything should happen." Seeing their faces, he added, "if anything happens. It may very well not. You said she was only after the True Alpha and since she knows now it's not Stiles, he won't be in any more danger. You'll all have to keep an eye out for Scott, though. He's the one she'll want."
Everyone nodded, looking towards Scott in a mixture of trepidation and concern.
Stiles tucked his hands around his sides and said nothing.
They left Deaton's shortly after, Lydia assuring them that the moment she sensed something, she'd call Scott and let them all know. They worried over Scott for a bit before he managed to convince them to go home, insisting that he'd call them if something happened, and reassuring them that he'd be fine, reminding them that he'd already killed the witch once, this time he would just make sure she was dead – if she ever showed up again.
Soon the only ones left in the parking lot were Scott and Stiles, who silently got into the jeep and closed the doors.
"Everything will be fine," Scott immediately said, starting the vehicle. He had taken the keys from Stiles' hands and climbed into the driver's side without a question, and Stiles hadn't objected once. He sat pressed between the corner of the door and the seat, his arms still wrapped around his sides.
"Let's just go," he said, not looking Scott in the eye. Scott gave his friend a concerned look before he shifted the jeep into gear and pulled out onto the road. They had barely started driving when Scott's eyes narrowed and he frowned, leaning forward over the steering wheel as he looked out of the window. Stiles caught the movement and shifted, straightening in his seat. "What is it?" he asked.
Scott continued to frown, squinting into the dark. "I thought I saw –." His eyes widened and he jerked the steering wheel to the left, throwing Stiles against the door. Stiles looked up and out the window, and saw a human-figure running just beyond the headlights in front of the vehicle.
"Is that a werewolf?" Stiles asked, trying to make the figure out.
"Yeah, I – I think it is. It actually… it actually looks like the one Malia and I found a few weeks ago; that rogue wolf that had gone feral – do you remember me telling you about it?"
"Yeah," Stiles said, now staring at the running figure in slight confusion. "But didn't you say it's pack-mate came and took him back?"
"Yeah…" Scott trailed off, confusion marring his features. They were silent for a moment, then he asked, "Do you want to follow him?"
Stiles knew that if he answered no, Scott would let the wolf go and take him back home. But Stiles also knew that Scott wanted to follow him, to see what was going on. And though Stiles was still feeling the cold, churning in his gut of fear, he couldn't deny that he wanted to check it out, too.
"Sure," he finally said. "Let's see what he's up to."
They followed the wolf in the jeep through the town and onto the main highway, until they eventually made it to the same campground and lake that Scott, Malia, and Liam had first tracked him to all those weeks ago. Eventually they could drive no more and they got out of the vehicle, cautiously following it on foot.
The werewolf was walking calmly, though it appeared to be walking with a limp. Scott could smell that it had been wounded, but he couldn't tell if the wounds were fresh or old. The wolf gave no notice of its company, walking through the trees and up the hill until it reached an old, cement watershed, its dark shape illuminated in shadow by the bright moon from above.
"Where's he going?" Stiles whispered, watching the wolf with a deep frown.
Scott shook his head. "I don't know. Its pack-mate said they weren't from around here, that they'd just been passing through –."
"Hello there."
Both Scott and Stiles nearly jumped out of their skin, spinning around to see a woman standing before them, a curious look upon her face. Scott instantly recognised her as the She-wolf, the one who had passed through Beacon Hills all those months ago and the one who had taken the feral-wolf back home to their pack.
"Shit, you scared us," Scott said in way of greeting, his nerves vibrating beneath his skin.
"I'm sorry," the She-wolf apologised. "I didn't mean to shock you."
"What are you doing here?" Scott asked. "Did you lose your pack-mate again?"
"Yes," the She-wolf said. "He tends to get loose quite a bit, I'm afraid. His mind has gone, so he can be difficult to contain."
Scott glanced around, searching for the rogue wolf. "Did you need help capturing him again? Because I can call my pack, I'm sure they'd come right away –."
"No, no," the She-wolf said quickly, shaking her head. "There's no need; I've actually got all the help I need." She glanced briefly towards Stiles with a small smile, then looked back to Scott.
"Are you guys just passing through again?" Scott questioned. "And honestly, I can help you catch your pack-mate – we don't want him to attack someone else here, and I'm sure you don't want to lose him for good."
"No," the she-wolf replied, glancing again towards Stiles again, a small smile stretching across her lips. "I certainly do not wish to lose him for good. That would be a great shame."
The wolf and Scott continued to talk, but Stiles was no longer listening. A loud ringing had overtaken his ears, drowning out all other noise until all he could hear was the blood racing through his heart and fear rushing through his veins. The She-wolf glanced at him one more time, and that was the last glance he needed.
He jerked back as though he'd been shoved and his hand shot out, grabbing Scott's arm and pulling him back with him. Scott was abruptly torn from his conversation and turned to Stiles in surprise, about to ask what was wrong when he suddenly registered Stiles' face and smelled the fear that was now emanating from his friend. Scott immediately looked back at the She-wolf, his eyes narrowing as his entire body went on guard. "What is it, Stiles?" he asked, trying to figure out what was going on.
"It's her," Stiles snarled, continuing to step back, every single sense on high alert.
The She-wolf looked at them in confusion. "Who am I?" she asked, looking between the two teenagers in bemusement. But Stiles wasn't falling for it.
Not this time.
He made to turn, ready to run as fast as he could to safety, but before he could even move his foot, he felt Scott jerk beside him. Not a second later he felt something come crashing down behind him, and he knew no more.
A/N: Things are speeding up once again! Thanks again to everyone who has reviewed and favourited this story - your support is very, very appreciated! If you have time, please feel free to leave a review! Thanks!
