The Preserve felt colder than usual, the damp air clinging to Stella's skin as she crouched near the base of the marked tree. The claw marks were deeper than she'd first realized, jagged and raw, as though the creature who made them had been in a frenzy. Her fingers hovered over the bark, her heightened senses picking up faint traces of blood. It wasn't human—but it wasn't fully animal either.
Scott stood beside her, scanning the area with furrowed brows. "Do you smell that?" he asked, his voice low.
Stella inhaled deeply, the earthy scent of the forest mingling with something sharper—something metallic and sour. It wasn't just the blood; there was an underlying note of fear. "Yeah," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Whoever—or whatever—did this, they were terrified."
Derek stood a few feet away, his arms crossed as he surveyed the scene. "Fear can make a wolf unpredictable. Desperate." His tone was calm, but his eyes betrayed his worry. "If this werewolf is panicking, they're dangerous. We need to find them before they cause more damage."
Stiles, standing awkwardly near a fallen log, raised his hand like he was in class. "Quick question: how do we not end up on the wrong side of 'dangerous and unpredictable'? Because I'd like to avoid the whole 'being mauled in the woods' scenario."
Derek shot him a withering glare. "Stay out of the way."
"Noted," Stiles muttered, shoving his hands into his hoodie pocket.
Stella tried to focus on the scents, the faint trail of fear and blood that lingered in the air. Her instincts tugged her in a specific direction, deeper into the forest. "I think they went that way," she said, pointing toward a dense cluster of trees.
Derek nodded. "Then that's where we start."
The group moved cautiously, with Derek leading the way and Stella and Scott flanking him. Stiles trailed behind, holding a flashlight even though the setting sun still provided faint light. The forest grew darker as they ventured further, the trees pressing in like silent sentinels.
Stella's heart raced with every step, her senses on high alert. The scent grew stronger, more distinct. It wasn't just fear—it was despair. Whoever this werewolf was, they were unraveling.
"Stella," Scott said quietly, falling into step beside her. "You okay?"
She nodded, though her stomach churned with unease. "I just… I keep thinking, what if we can't help them? What if they're already too far gone?"
Scott's jaw tightened. "Then we do what we have to do."
His words hung heavy in the air, and Stella hated the implication. She didn't want to believe there was a point of no return, but the reality of their world didn't leave much room for optimism.
It didn't take long to find the source of the trail. Near a small clearing, they spotted movement—a figure hunched over near the base of a tree, their breathing ragged and labored. Stella froze, her eyes narrowing as she focused on the figure's outline. Their shoulders shook as though they were crying, and faint growls rumbled from their chest.
"Is that…?" Stiles began, but Derek silenced him with a raised hand.
The figure looked up suddenly, their face illuminated by the fading light. Stella's breath caught. It was a boy, maybe around her age, his features twisted in anguish. His eyes glowed a sickly yellow, his claws extended and trembling.
"Please…" the boy choked out, his voice cracking. "I… I didn't mean to…"
Derek stepped forward cautiously, his hands raised in a gesture of peace. "We're not here to hurt you," he said evenly. "But you need to calm down."
The boy shook his head violently, his claws digging into the dirt. "I can't. It won't stop. It won't—" His voice broke into a guttural growl, his body jerking as though he were fighting himself.
Stella felt her heart break at the sight. She knew that struggle all too well—the battle to stay human when the wolf inside wanted to take over.
Scott moved to help, but Derek stopped him with a sharp look. "If he shifts completely, he'll attack."
"So what do we do?" Stella whispered, her voice shaking.
"You," Derek said, turning to her, "need to connect with him. He's not fully gone yet, but he's close. You've been where he is—pull him back."
Stella's stomach dropped. "What? I—"
"Do it, Stella," Derek snapped. "Or he'll lose control."
She hesitated for only a moment before stepping forward. Her heart pounded in her chest as she knelt a few feet away from the boy. His glowing eyes locked onto hers, and for a second, she thought he might lunge. But he didn't. Instead, he let out a low whimper, his claws twitching in the dirt.
"It's okay," she said softly, her voice trembling but steady enough. "You're not alone. We've been there. I've been there."
The boy's breathing hitched, his glowing eyes flickering. "It… it hurts."
"I know," Stella said, inching closer. "But you're stronger than this. You can fight it."
Behind her, she could hear Scott whispering encouragement, and Stiles's flashlight beam danced nervously across the ground. But her focus stayed on the boy, her words flowing like a mantra.
"You're not a monster," she said, her voice firm. "You're just scared. But fear doesn't control you—you do."
For a long moment, nothing happened. Then, slowly, the boy's claws retracted, his glowing eyes fading back to their natural color. He collapsed onto the ground, his chest heaving as he sobbed quietly.
Stella let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. "It's okay," she said again, kneeling beside him. "You're safe now."
The boy, whose name they learned was Alex, was too weak to explain much about how he'd been turned or what had caused his breakdown. Derek decided to take him back to the loft, where he could recover under their watch.
As they made their way back to the cars, Stiles fell into step beside Stella. "That was… impressive," he said, his voice softer than usual. "You handled that way better than I would've."
Stella glanced at him, her cheeks warming. "I just… I remembered what it felt like to be in his shoes. That's all."
"Well, whatever you did, it worked," Stiles said with a crooked smile. "You're a natural at this whole werewolf whisperer thing."
She laughed, the sound lightening the heavy weight in her chest. For the first time that night, she felt like maybe she wasn't completely powerless. Maybe she could help. And maybe, just maybe, she was stronger than she gave herself credit for.