I wasn't sure what a Sigma was or what it meant. But the way Peter enunciated the word, it had to be true.

"So you care to explain exactly what that means," Stiles' word pointed at Peter.

Peter's smirk widened, clearly reveling in the attention. He leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other as though settling in for a story he'd been dying to tell.

"A Sigma," Peter began, his voice smooth and deliberate, "is a wolf outside the usual hierarchy. Neither an Alpha nor a Beta, nor even an Omega in the traditional sense. They don't need a pack to survive, but they aren't loners either. They're rare—almost unheard of, really." His gaze flicked to me, curiosity and calculation mingling in his expression.

"So… like the lone wolf trope?" Stiles quipped, crossing his arms skeptically.

Peter shot him an unimpressed look. "Not quite. Lone wolves are typically outcasts, exiled from their packs or choosing solitude for whatever melodramatic reason. Sigmas, however, exist beyond that structure. They're self-reliant, powerful in ways Alphas aren't, and unaffected by the typical pack bonds."

"That's… unsettling," Lydia murmured, her sharp eyes narrowing.

"It also makes them dangerous," Derek cut in, his deep voice steady but wary. He leaned forward, forearms resting on his knees as he studied me. "If she's not tied to a pack, she doesn't answer to anyone. Not even an Alpha."

"Wait," Scott interjected, his brows knitting together. "Are you saying she's immune to an Alpha's commands?"

Peter nodded slowly, his smirk returning. "Precisely. Her instincts are her own. She can't be bent to anyone's will—not yours, not mine, not even if she wanted to be. That's what makes Sigmas so… fascinating."

I shifted uncomfortably under their scrutiny, unsure if this revelation was something to fear or embrace.

"Okay, but why?" Kira asked, her voice softer than the others, filled with genuine curiosity. "Why would someone be a Sigma instead of part of a pack?"

Peter tilted his head thoughtfully. "Good question. Most Sigmas don't choose to be this way. They're forged through extreme circumstances—loss, trauma, or sheer necessity. It's survival on the harshest terms, and it leaves its mark. They adapt in ways no other wolf could, but at a cost."

I lowered my head, his words striking a chord I didn't fully understand but felt deeply.

"So… she's like a werewolf Batman," Stiles offered, attempting to lighten the mood, though his expression betrayed lingering unease.

"Sure, if Batman had heightened instincts, an unparalleled sense of danger, and couldn't play nice with others," Peter deadpanned.

The room fell silent as the weight of Peter's explanation settled over us. I wasn't sure if being a Sigma was a gift or a curse, but one thing was certain—I wasn't just a wolf anymore. I was something else entirely.

"I…" the sound coming from me sounded foreign and yet, "I had a pack once. By creatures that look a lot like you." I cast a long look at Stiles. His scent didn't give a sense of danger but that day… I couldn't smell danger from the hunters that had ambushed my family. I didn't totally trust this pack but I wasn't afraid of them either.

"Little wolf," Peter grinned, "it seems you've found your voice."

"She spoke before," Lydia retorted.

"You sure about that," Stiles asked, "You hear things the rest of us don't."

"No it was words and outloud," she responded. "I can't say we held a deep and heartfelt conversation but we communicated."

Peter chuckled, his grin widening as he leaned forward, clearly entertained by the exchange. "Well, it seems our little Sigma is full of surprises. Speech and survival instincts? Impressive."

I looked at Peter, then Lydia, then Stiles. Their banter felt strange to me, but not unkind. I wasn't sure if it was meant to ease the tension or if they simply couldn't help themselves.

Scott, however, stayed focused. His gaze softened as he addressed me directly. "What happened to your pack? The creatures that look like Stiles... were they hunters?"

I hesitated, the memory of that day sharp and raw in my chest. "Yes," I said quietly, the word tasting foreign but necessary. "They came with their weapons, their scent masked, their movements quiet. We... we didn't stand a chance."

The room grew quiet, their playful banter replaced by a somber stillness.
"I'm sorry," Scott said after a moment, his tone heavy with sincerity. "Hunters can be cruel, but not all of them are like that. Some follow a code—"

"A code they break whenever it suits them," Derek interrupted, his voice gruff.

Scott sighed but didn't argue.

"They took everything," I added, my voice trembling. "My family, my home… my sense of safety. I don't know why they let me live."

"They didn't," Peter said, his voice low but certain. "You survived. That's the difference. And it's why you're here now."

I met his eyes, unsure if I found comfort or challenge in his words.

"So," Stiles chimed in, breaking the tension, "you're telling me I look like the guys who wiped out her entire pack? Great. That's comforting."

"You don't smell like them," I said softly, surprising even myself.

Stiles blinked. "Uh, thanks? I think?"

Lydia rolled her eyes. "What she's saying, Stiles, is that you're not a threat."

"Could've just said that," he muttered under his breath, but there was no real annoyance in his tone.

Scott leaned forward, his expression steady and determined. "You're safe here," he said firmly. "We're not going to let anything happen to you."

I wanted to believe him. I really did. But the scars of the past didn't fade so easily, and trust wasn't something I could give freely anymore. Still, their presence, their energy... it didn't feel like danger.

It felt like a possibility.

I felt another stirring in my stomach one that typically comes after eating. I wasn't accustomed to human biology or how they handled this type of thing. I stood, pacing wanting to go outside and do what came natural to me. But I knew that wasn't natural or normal for them.

"You ok?" Kira asked.

"I think she has to use the bathroom," Lydia responded.

Stiles' face lit up with a mixture of amusement and discomfort. "Oh boy, this is going to be an adventure."

Lydia shot him a glare. "Don't make it weird, Stiles. It's a perfectly natural thing. She's adjusting."

"I wasn't going to make it weird," Stiles defended, though his tone suggested he already had.

Kira approached me cautiously, her voice soft. "It's okay. I can show you what to do." She reached out as if to take my hand but paused, waiting for my permission.

I hesitated, glancing at the others. Their eyes were on me, but none of them seemed hostile. Finally, I nodded and let her lead me down a narrow hallway.

"It's really not that complicated," Kira said as she opened a door. The room where I had showered before. "This is the bathroom. That's the toilet," she pointed to a porcelain contraption. "And this," she said, picking up a roll of soft, thin paper, "is toilet paper. You'll need it after... well, you'll figure it out."

I stared at the toilet, my brow furrowing. "And you… sit on it?"

Kira nodded, her expression kind but slightly amused. "Yeah. Just sit. It's private, so I'll wait out here if you need help." She stepped back and closed the door, leaving me alone with the strange human contraptions.

I approached the toilet cautiously, mimicking what I'd seen Kira suggest. It felt awkward and unnatural, but I managed to follow her instructions.

When I emerged, Kira gave me an encouraging smile. "See? Not so bad."

I nodded, though I wasn't sure I agreed. "Humans… do this every day?"

She laughed. "Yep. Welcome to humanity." She peered in the room showing me how to flush my waste away. "Wash your hands," she pointed to the sink and soap. No wonder the humans smelled the way they do with all the fragrances they put on themselves.

As we walked back to the group, I couldn't help but feel a little pride in my small victory. It was strange, learning these things, but maybe adapting wasn't as impossible as I thought.

"So um…" Scott started, "What should we call you? What's your name?"

"Name?" I hadn't thought of that. I'd never needed a name before. "I don't think I have one."

The group exchanged glances, a mixture of surprise and curiosity passing between them.

"No name?" Stiles asked, tilting his head. "That's... unique. Like Cher or Madonna, but, you know, wolfier."

Lydia rolled her eyes. "She's not a pop star, Stiles."

Scott offered a gentle smile, his voice soothing. "That's okay. If you don't have a name, we can help you pick one. Something that feels right to you."

I looked down, unsure. A name? Something to identify me in their world? It felt strange, almost unnecessary, but I could see in their faces that it mattered to them.

"What kind of names do humans have?" I asked hesitantly.

"Depends on what you like," Kira said with a warm smile. "Something strong, maybe? Or something soft? Or... something that reminds you of who you are."

"Or something badass," Peter interjected with a smirk.

Lydia ignored him, studying me with her sharp, discerning eyes. "What about something that reflects your nature? You're strong, independent... maybe something like 'Nova'? It means new, like a new beginning."

"Nova's cool," Stiles chimed in, "but what about something wolf-related? Like Luna?"

I tilted my head, considering. These words were unfamiliar, yet they carried meaning that resonated. "Nova," I repeated slowly, testing it out.

The group fell silent, waiting.

"I think I like it," I said finally, a small smile tugging at my lips. "Nova."

"Nova it is," Scott said, nodding in approval.

"Welcome to the pack, Nova," Kira added, her eyes warm and sincere.

Pack. The word sent a flicker of warmth through me. For the first time in a long while, I didn't feel completely alone.

"I'm partial to Little Wolf, myself," Peter said with a smirk, his tone playful yet somehow grounding. "So I'll stick to that."

I didn't seem to mind, though. His scent felt oddly familiar to me, like a whisper of a memory I couldn't quite grasp. The bond he had with Derek was different—deeper—than the one he shared with the rest of the group. It wasn't just blood; it was shared loss, something that tethered them to each other in ways words couldn't explain.

I tilted my head, watching Peter as he leaned casually against the wall, his sharp eyes studying me with that ever-present smirk. The feeling of familiarity gnawed at the edges of my mind.

"You seem awfully comfortable with the nickname," Derek said, crossing his arms and shooting Peter a pointed look.

"What can I say? She's a mystery, and I like mysteries," Peter replied with a shrug. But there was something in his tone—a hint of nostalgia, maybe even recognition—that made me wonder.

"What about you, Little Wolf?" Kira asked gently, pulling my focus away from Peter. "Do you want us to call you that?"

I hesitated, the question hanging in the air. I didn't know what I wanted. Names felt like a human thing, something distant from the life I'd known. And yet, there was a strange comfort in the way Peter said it—like he'd called me that long before today.

"She doesn't seem to mind," Peter said, his smirk softening into something less teasing. For a moment, his eyes flickered, a glimmer of something unspoken passing between him and Derek.

"Familiar, isn't it?" Peter added, his voice quieter now, almost as if he were speaking to himself.

"What are you talking about?" Derek's tone was sharp, but his expression faltered, a shadow of doubt crossing his face.

I glanced between them, confusion stirring in my chest. There was more to this than they were saying, but I couldn't piece it together—not yet.

"Nothing," Peter said breezily, pushing off the wall and brushing past Derek. "Just an observation."

I didn't understand. Maybe I never would.

"So, um…" Stiles began hesitantly, shifting in his seat, "What brings you to Beacon Hills? It's not exactly a hot tourist destination for, uh, wolves."

"I don't know," I admitted, glancing down at my hands. "I've never been this far south before." My voice softened as I searched for the right words. "There was… a pull. Something I couldn't ignore, no matter how hard I tried. It just wouldn't let go until I followed it."

Their eyes were on me now, waiting, listening. I felt the weight of their curiosity and concern pressing down like the forest canopy.

"When I got here, I heard voices," I continued, my gaze lifting to meet Scott's. "Your voice."

Scott's eyebrows knit together in confusion, and I saw the recognition flicker behind his amber eyes.

"It was you," I said, my tone steady but quiet. "In the woods last night. The one I ran from."

A hush fell over the room as everyone processed my words. Scott shifted uncomfortably, his jaw tightening.

"And I pushed you into the road," Scott said finally, his voice filled with regret. "I didn't mean to—"

"I know," I interrupted. "You weren't trying to hurt me. I could feel it… even then."

The tension in the room lessened slightly, though the unease lingered in Scott's expression.

"What kind of pull are we talking about here?" Lydia asked, her sharp green eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "Was it instinct? Something primal?"

I hesitated, trying to put the sensation into words. "It wasn't just instinct," I said slowly. "It was more like… a force. Like I was being guided, but I don't know by what or who."

Peter leaned forward, his interest piqued. "And you've never felt anything like this before?"

I shook my head. "Never."

"This place does have a way of drawing things in," Kira said, her voice light but tinged with curiosity.

"Things like us," Derek added, his tone clipped as his eyes met Peter's.

"What does that mean?" I asked, glancing between them.

"It means Beacon Hills isn't your average town," Peter replied, his smirk returning. "And you're far from the first wolf to end up here without knowing why."

His words settled uneasily in my chest, leaving me with more questions than answers. If I wasn't the first, then what was Beacon Hills hiding? And why did it feel like the pull that brought me here was only the beginning?

Night had settled over the house, and I was left with as many questions as answers. I wasn't sure where to start unraveling this tangled mess. I wasn't sure if I even wanted to. I was human now. And the idea of never being a wolf again gnawed at me. I had to know if that was possible. I wanted to turn back. Maybe. I wasn't sure anymore.

This human form didn't offer the same protection as my wolf body. I could already feel the weakness in my limbs, the vulnerability in every breath. And I was cold.

I don't remember ever feeling cold before. Not even in the harshest winters or the biting winds that howled through the trees. But here, in this new skin, I felt the chill seep through me. My teeth started to chatter, and I pulled the blanket tighter around my shoulders, but it didn't help. The warmth of the wolf I once was seemed like a distant memory.

Peter exchanged a glance with Derek. Derek nodded and moved to the next room, returning with a thick, soft blanket that he gently draped over me. His touch was surprisingly tender, like he understood this feeling, this sudden vulnerability that I didn't know how to process.

"It'll take some time to get used to not having a fur coat," Stiles said with an awkward laugh, his eyes watching me carefully. "Malia used to complain about it when she first came back to being human." He paused, probably realizing how that sounded. "Well, she's, uh, still adjusting."

I glanced at him, confused. "Malia?"
"Another wolf, well coyote," Scott explained, his voice soft. "She used to be like you. She's... well, she was a bit like you when she came back. Took a while to get used to the whole human thing again."

I blinked at them, unsure whether to be comforted or unsettled by the thought of someone like me struggling through this same transition. But I didn't have time to ask more questions. The shivering from the cold was starting to feel more like an ache deep in my bones.

I looked at Peter, seeking some kind of reassurance. "Will I ever… be a wolf again?"

The room fell silent. I could feel their eyes on me, but no one answered immediately.
Finally, it was Derek who spoke, his voice low and almost regretful. "I can't say for sure. The process of turning into a wolf is... complicated. It's not something that happens easily, or on command. But if you're truly a Sigma wolf, your instincts could guide you. Just... be patient with yourself."

I nodded slowly, trying to process his words. Patient. Right. It didn't feel like I had much time to be patient. Everything about this human body felt wrong—too fragile, too exposed. My instincts screamed at me to shift, to return to what I knew. But I was trapped in this form, and I wasn't sure I could escape it.

As I looked at the group, each one waiting for me to speak or react, I realized something important: they weren't my pack. Not yet. But maybe… maybe I could learn to trust them. Even if I didn't fully understand what was happening, maybe they would help me figure it out.

"Thanks," I finally whispered, my voice unsteady. "For helping me."

Peter's grin widened, but there was something almost knowing in his eyes as he looked at me. "I wouldn't leave you alone and defenseless in the woods, Little Wolf." His voice had an edge to it, like he knew more about my situation than he was letting on. There was a hesitation, though—he wasn't ready to say it. Maybe not in front of Scott's pack, not yet.

Derek caught the look, his brow furrowing as if he could see something in Peter's expression that the others didn't. He leaned forward, his gaze sharp. "There's not many that can turn full," Derek murmured, his voice thoughtful. "Most of us shift into something in between, human and wolf. My mother could. She was one of the rare ones, fully shifting. But that's… not normal."

The words hung in the air between us, the weight of them settling over me. Derek's mother. Another link to this strange world I had fallen into.

I felt a chill run through me. The idea of shifting fully again—of becoming the wolf again—was both a comfort and a terrifying unknown. What did it mean that I might never shift back? That I had to stay like this?

Peter's eyes were still on me, his smirk slipping into something more guarded. "Most of us are stuck somewhere in between," he said quietly, his tone almost teasing. "But you, Little Wolf... you're different. We'll see if you can find your way back. You have the potential." His words were layered with meaning, but the uncertainty in my mind only deepened.

I swallowed hard, trying to make sense of it all. Shifting was something I had taken for granted, never realizing how rare or significant it might be. But now, in this fragile human form, I didn't know if I was more afraid of not shifting or what might happen if I did.

"So, what does that mean for me?" I asked, my voice rough. "Am I just… stuck?"

Scott stepped forward, looking like he wanted to ease my mind, though his own thoughts seemed clouded. "No. Not stuck. You're just... adjusting. It's gonna take time. The human part of you is just as important as the wolf part. And I'm sure that, eventually, you'll figure out how to balance both."

The words were comforting in their simplicity, but they felt too vague for what I was experiencing. I wanted answers, concrete answers, but the uncertainty of this situation—of being something halfway between—was gnawing at me.

Derek seemed to sense my discomfort, his voice lowering. "You're not alone in this, Nova. We're all figuring it out together. And you'll get through it."

But I wasn't sure. I wasn't sure if I could ever get back to the way I was. The part of me that was a wolf felt distant, fading. And as the night wore on, I couldn't shake the nagging feeling that something was being kept from me. Something important.

I glanced at Peter again, wondering what he knew that he wasn't saying, what connections he had to my past that I didn't even know I had.

But for now, all I could do was sit in the silence, wrapped in the warmth of the blanket, and wait for whatever answers might come.

"Isn't it past your bed time?" Peter quipped at the rest of the group, "School in the morning."

"Where is she going to stay?" Kira asked, "I could ask my parents. But you're right it is getting late. And the AP Calculous exam is tomorrow."

"She'll stay here," Peter responded, "Derek has a way with lost pups."

Kira raised an eyebrow at Peter's response but didn't argue. She glanced at Derek, who seemed to be deep in thought, before speaking up.

"I'm sure he does, but I think we need to make sure she's comfortable." Her voice was soft, but there was a determination in it that made me feel like I wasn't just some passing inconvenience.

Peter smirked but didn't argue, crossing his arms. "Comfortable, sure. But she'll need to learn how to adapt quickly. You all know what we're dealing with."

I wasn't entirely sure what they were talking about, but I had the distinct feeling it wasn't just about getting a good night's rest. Something about Peter's words had weight behind them. Something more than just concern for a stranger in their midst.

Derek shifted, then nodded toward me. "We'll figure it out. It's late, and there's too much to process all at once."

I looked up at him, still unsure of where I stood in all of this. The people in this room—these wolves, humans, hybrids—had their own lives, their own battles. I didn't know where mine fit into their world, but I was going to find out. One way or another.

Peter pushed off the wall, giving Derek a knowing look. "Take care of her, nephew. She's got more to learn than any of us could ever teach her in a night."

I caught the subtle challenge in Peter's voice and turned my gaze back to Derek. Was he the leader of this group? It wasn't like I had any claim to that, not yet. I hadn't earned it. But maybe I could. Maybe this new version of me could.
"Goodnight, Little Wolf," Peter added, his voice softer this time, before he left the room, leaving us with a strange silence.

Derek stood up, glancing at me before heading toward the hallway. "I'll get a spare blanket for you."

As he walked away, I wrapped the blanket tighter around my shoulders, trying to stave off the cold that was still there. The room was warm, but my skin still felt the absence of something—something that could only be filled by time and perhaps a new sense of belonging.
As the sounds of the house settled down, I took a deep breath and let the quiet consume me. Maybe tomorrow would bring more answers.

—-

The morning came. I'd hoped that when I woke this would have all faded away, like some vivid dream. I'd be back in my real body roaming the wood. Hunting a rabbit or squirel. Or maybe even taking my chances with a deer.

But I was still in this human body, curled up huddled under the blankets by the fire that Derek had lit before I finally fell asleep. The flames had burned down to just embers now and the morning sun was pouring through the window overhead.

"I made coffee," Derek said. "Peter is bringing breakfast. I suppose if you're going to be here for a while I may have to stock up on food."

"You don't share your den… your home with your pack?" I shifted to a seated position. Taking the warm mug he offered. I sniffed it once before bringing it to my lips. I whimpered a little as it burned my tongue. My nose wrinkled at the bitter taste.

"Sorry I didn't know if you'd want anything in it. I should have warned you it was hot," he responded, "no I live alone usually. Peter, my uncle, stays here from time to time. The others have their own lives. Their own families."

I took another sip slowly, the warmth of the mug against my hands more comforting than the drink itself. I wasn't sure what to make of Derek's words. He lived alone? Yet the pack... they felt like family, even if they were more like strangers to me. I couldn't shake the feeling that they were all tied together by something deeper than just shared experiences.

"So... your pack isn't here?" I asked, the question lingering in the air between us.

He shook his head. "Not at the moment. They all have their own things going on. The bond is still there, but they have lives outside of this place. It's different when you're... well, like us. There's a balance between what we're responsible for and what we have to keep to ourselves."
The idea of them having their own lives, separate from this... this den, felt strange. Wolves were pack creatures, weren't they? But I wasn't sure what the boundaries were for these people.

I swallowed another sip of the coffee, trying to ignore how much it burned. It was more important to try to fit in, to adapt, even if I didn't understand everything yet. "And Peter? He's your... uncle?" I asked, trying to make sense of the complicated web of relationships.

Derek's lips tightened for a moment, and he nodded slowly. "Yeah, he's my uncle. But... well, things are complicated. You'll figure it out eventually. But that's not why you're here, right?"
I nodded, not entirely sure what I was meant to be doing here, but feeling an odd sense of purpose in staying. "I'm not sure what I'm doing," I admitted, looking at my hands. "I didn't ask for this. This... form." I gestured vaguely at my human body, still trying to get used to its limitations.

"You didn't have a choice," Derek said softly. "None of us did. But you're here now, and we'll help you figure it out. You don't have to be alone." His voice softened again as if there was something else he wanted to say but held back.

Before I could respond, the door to the small room creaked open, and Peter entered, carrying bags that smelled of food—something greasy and familiar. My stomach growled unexpectedly, reminding me that I hadn't eaten anything substantial since yesterday.

"Smells good," I murmured, trying to ignore the awkwardness of the moment.
Peter grinned, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "I brought breakfast. Though, I'm not sure how much of it you'll be able to stomach. The food here is... very different than what you're used to." He placed the bags on the table and opened them, revealing an assortment of fast food. "I took the liberty of grabbing a little of everything. I figured you'd prefer to try a variety rather than me forcing you into one option."

I looked at the pile of food, suddenly aware of how different everything felt. They ate food like this regularly, didn't they? It wasn't how I was used to hunting and eating, but my stomach didn't seem to care.

There was a box of round circles with holes in the middle. They smelled sweet, a hint of sugar and warmth. Alongside it was a bag containing foil-wrapped cylinders that gave off a savory scent, a mix of meat and something else I couldn't quite place.

"You're right," I said, reaching for one of the sweet circles. I had no idea how to eat like a human, but I was going to try. It wasn't hunting, but it was something. "I'll try."

Peter's grin widened. "That's the spirit, Little Wolf."

I held the circle in my hands, sniffing it deeply before bringing it to my lips. The moment I took a bite, I devoured it quickly, savoring the sweetness that melted on my tongue. I heard a low laugh from Peter, and when I looked up at him, he was shaking his head.

"Did I do it wrong?" I glanced from Peter to Derek, unsure.

"No, Little Wolf," Peter replied with a chuckle, reaching over to grab a napkin from the stack. He gently wiped my lips with it, his expression fond. "You're doing just fine. But maybe try eating a little slower next time."

"That's a donut," Peter said with a smirk. "If you eat too many of them, you may end up regretting it later." He paused, then picked up the foil-wrapped cylinder. "You want to try something else?" He peeled back the foil, revealing a bread-like substance. "This is a breakfast burrito. Derek's favorite. Go on, try it." His eyes twinkled with amusement.

"Give her a little space," Derek muttered from the table, grabbing a burrito for himself.

I watched as Derek took a bite, mimicking the motion as best I could. The soft tortilla held a filling of sausage, yellow fluffy eggs, and melted cheese. It was warm and savory, and I wasn't sure how to feel about the combination of flavors. It wasn't hunting, but it wasn't bad either. The bite tasted familiar in a way that I couldn't place—like I had experienced it before, though not in this form.

I chewed slowly, glancing between Peter and Derek, gauging their reactions.

We finished eating, and Peter poured himself a cup of coffee, adding milk and sugar with a practiced hand. He glanced at the cup in front of me and raised an eyebrow. "You gave it to her black? Savage." He smirked as he added a little sugar and milk to mine, then slid it back in front of me. I took a cautious sip and found I liked it better the way Peter made it—smoother, warmer.

"You're different than Scott?" I asked, even though I already suspected the answer. But something about it felt important—like I needed to understand exactly how or why.

Peter leaned back in his chair, his expression softening a little as he looked at me. "Well, Scott was a wolf of my making," he said, his voice laced with the kind of pride that only someone with a complicated past could muster. "Derek and I? We're born wolves."

"Like me?" I gave an inquisitive look.

"A little. My sister..his mother," Peter glanced at Derek t"Like me?" I asked, my curiosity piqued as I looked at him, hoping for more understanding.

Peter's expression grew thoughtful, and for a moment, he seemed distant—lost in memories. "A little," he finally answered. "My sister—his mother—could shift full wolf, like you." He glanced at Derek, then back to me, his voice lowering. "She was our alpha before the hunters came. They burned our home down… with us in it. Derek wasn't there, but the rest of our pack… they didn't survive the fire."

"Hunters did that?" I asked, the weight of his words settling in my chest. In that moment, I understood why I felt such a deeper connection with Derek and Peter.

Peter sighed, his attempt to lighten the mood falling flat. "Trauma bonding isn't fun," he said, his voice softening. "But I thought you should know."

"How long ago did they take your pack?" Derek asked, his voice tinged with sympathy.

Time had always passed differently for me as a wolf. I never measured it in days, months, or years. It was just a cycle: day, night, day, night. The full moon. The changing seasons. And then it would repeat.

"I don't know... at least six winters. Maybe more," I answered quietly, the weight of it sinking in.

"You were alone all that time?" Derek's voice softened, but his words still held the sting of disbelief.

I nodded, my gaze drifting away. The faces of my pack were fading in my memories, blurry shapes and shadows. Until Scott dove into my mind, pulling fragments of them back to the surface.

"How about we take you on a little field trip?" Peter said, "So we can see what you can really do."

"Peter," Derek's words had an edge of caution to them, "We don't know how she'll react. It might be overwhelming for her."

"She's sitting right here, Derek. Let her decide what she wants," Peter responded, "I'm talking bout taking her up to the woods where she can be free."

I looked at Peter, sensing the familiar challenge in his tone, before turning my attention to Derek. His concern was genuine, but Peter was right—he was treating me like I had a choice in this. The way he talked, it felt like I should be able to choose for myself.

"I don't mind," I said finally, my voice barely a whisper. "I want to know what I can do."

Peter's grin widened, and Derek just nodded, though I could see the hesitation still in his eyes. "Let's go then," Peter said, standing and moving toward the door.

It was still early, the sun filtering through the trees, casting long shadows across the ground. I could feel the pull of the outside, the draw of the forest, even before we left the safety of the house.

As we walked toward the woods, the air felt different—the smells of the earth, the trees, the breeze, they all called to me, like old memories I could almost grasp but not quite. Maybe this was what Peter meant—freedom. Real freedom.

Peter let out a low, deep howl when we reached the center of the woods. I saw a different part of him when he howled.

The sound of Peter's howl echoed through the trees, a deep, resonant call that made my heart race in sync with the pulse of the forest. It was different than anything I'd ever heard before, raw and commanding, yet inviting. I felt an urge in my chest, something ancient and powerful stirring inside me. Without thinking, I lifted my head and let out a howl of my own.

It was not the perfect howl of a seasoned wolf, but it was mine. A sound of longing, of release, of being truly alive. My voice vibrated through the woods, and for a moment, the forest seemed to hold its breath.

Peter's eyes gleamed with approval, but his gaze shifted to Derek, who was watching me closely. I could feel his presence behind me, a protective shadow, but also something more—curiosity, understanding.

"You've got it, Little Wolf," Peter said with a grin. "You're just beginning."

The air seemed to hum with energy, the forest alive with the sound of our howls and the rhythm of our hearts. For the first time since waking in this strange new body, I felt like I could breathe freely. Like I belonged.

Derek stepped forward, his eyes never leaving me. "Try shifting," he said quietly, as if giving me permission. "It's a choice. You don't have to if you're not ready."

I looked at them both—Peter, who always seemed to know what was next, and Derek, who was grounded, steady, but patient.

A part of me wanted to run, to test the limits of this new form, to see how far I could go. The other part of me wanted to hold back, still unsure of what it meant to truly be human again. To be wolf and human in one body.

But the pull of the forest, of the ancient bond that called to me, was too strong. Slowly, I lowered myself, taking in the earth beneath me. I closed my eyes and let the feeling wash over me. The way my body thrummed with life, with energy, with power.

I breathed in deeply.

And I shifted.

It was less painful than I remembered, smoother than I expected, but still jarring. My muscles contorted, stretching and reforming, my bones aching as they reshaped themselves. The change wasn't instantaneous, but when I opened my eyes again, I was a wolf once more—fur covering my body, nose twitching as it inhaled the scent of the woods.

The world seemed clearer this way, sharper, more vivid. The sounds of the forest were more distinct, the scents richer. I felt at home again, in a way I hadn't for so long.
Peter's grin widened, and he stepped back, watching with interest. Derek was silent, but I could feel his gaze on me, appraising, waiting.

I stood there for a moment, letting the change settle into my bones. I was back. I was me. But I wasn't alone anymore.

"This is you," Peter said, his voice softer now. "This is the real you."
And for the first time, I believed him.

I collapsed to my knees, the weight of the shift pulling me down. The forest seemed to blur at the edges, the familiar scents and sounds fading into a dizzying swirl. My body—once strong, once sure—felt like it didn't belong in this form anymore.

The cool earth beneath my hands was a grounding force, pulling me back to reality. I could feel the fur slipping away, the muscles returning to human shape. Slowly, shakily, I rose to my feet, a deep breath coming in short gasps as I struggled to steady myself.

Peter stepped closer, his presence like an anchor. "Easy there, Little Wolf," he murmured, his voice calm but tinged with a hint of concern. "You did good."

Derek, ever the silent protector, was close behind. His gaze softened when he saw me unsteady, but he didn't reach out just yet. He respected the distance I needed.

I wiped the sweat from my brow, feeling vulnerable in this human skin again. The pain of the shift, the strain on my body, was worse than I remembered. My muscles ached as if they had been pulled too tight, too fast.

"I..." I started, but my voice felt like a stranger to me, rough and weak from the strain. "I didn't expect that. It was harder than I thought."

Peter's grin remained, though it was more understanding now. "It's not easy. Shifting back and forth takes time. But you did it. That's something most can't do."

I nodded, still trying to find my balance. There was a part of me that wanted to sink back into the comfort of the wolf—where everything was instinctual, where everything made sense. But then, there was the other part of me, the human part, that felt the weight of my past and the loss of who I once was.

Derek took a step closer, offering me a hand. "You don't have to decide right now," he said softly. "Just... take your time."

And in that moment, I understood. There was no rush. No expectation. I didn't have to be fully wolf, or fully human. I could be both. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

For now, it was enough.

I took Derek's hand, steadying myself with his support. Peter remained a little further back, his gaze never leaving me, but there was something in his eyes—something that said he knew what I was going through, more than anyone else could. Something unspoken between us.

I could feel the forest around us, alive and welcoming. And for the first time, I didn't feel completely lost. I didn't feel entirely alone.

"Alright," I said, more to myself than anyone else, my voice stronger than before. "Let's see what comes next."

"We'll have to find you more clothes," Peter remarked seeing the streads of fabric littering the ground, "Not that I mind you this way." His lips curved into a smirk.

Derek shook his head and slid his jacket off, draping it around my shoulders. I didn't understand why humans wore clothes. I guess it was to shield themselves from the cold. But today it was a warm day. It didn't make sense to me. I didn't know if it ever would.

I pulled Derek's jacket tighter around my shoulders, the fabric feeling strange against my skin. It wasn't the same as the warmth of fur, but it was something. It was comfort, even if I didn't fully understand it.

Peter's eyes gleamed with amusement, but there was something softer in his gaze now. Maybe it was because of the shift—because I had crossed a line that not many wolves could.

Derek didn't say much, but the way he stood by me made me feel less like an outsider. Less like the wild creature that had stumbled into their lives. He had seen something in me, something I wasn't ready to acknowledge yet, but it was there.

"You don't have to wear clothes if you don't want to," Peter added with a smirk, "but we'll have to figure something out soon. Not exactly polite to walk around naked when we head back to town."

I gave him a sideways glance, a faint growl slipping from my throat in response to his teasing. But I wasn't angry. I wasn't sure if I was even capable of feeling that way in this moment.

"I'm not sure I'm ready for all of this," I admitted, my voice quiet. "This... life. This human part of me. I don't know what I'm supposed to do with it."

Peter's grin softened, and he took a step closer. "That's the thing about life, Little Wolf. You don't always know what you're supposed to do. You just do what you can."

Derek finally spoke, his voice steady. "We'll help you figure it out. One step at a time."

For a moment, I felt a flicker of hope. Maybe I didn't have to be lost in between the wolf and the human. Maybe I could learn to exist in both worlds.

But for now, I was still figuring it out, still unsure. And that was okay. Because at least I wasn't alone anymore.