The first morning in the cabin felt surreal. The air was colder than in Beacon Hills, the light filtering through the thick canopy of trees creating an eerie calm. Stella rubbed the sleep from her eyes as she sat up on the couch, a blanket draped over her shoulders. The events of the last 24 hours felt like a fever dream, but the ache in her chest reminded her it was all too real.
The faint clatter of pans in the kitchen pulled her attention. Stiles was there, fumbling with a mismatched assortment of cookware, muttering curses under his breath.
"Morning," Stella said, her voice hoarse from sleep.
Stiles jumped, nearly dropping the pan he was holding. "Morning. Or should I say, welcome to culinary hell. I think Derek found these in a dumpster."
Stella chuckled, the sound surprising even herself. "What are you trying to make?"
"Eggs," Stiles replied, holding up a carton with a sheepish grin. "I figure someone should contribute something normal to this 'hide from hunters and train like crazy' thing we've got going on."
She leaned against the counter, watching him fumble with the stove. "You didn't have to come, you know," she said softly. "This isn't your fight."
He stopped mid-motion, turning to her with an incredulous look. "Are you serious? Stella, if you think I'd let you do this alone, you clearly don't know me as well as you think you do."
Her cheeks warmed, and she looked away, focusing on a crack in the countertop. "Thanks, Stiles. For being here."
"Anytime," he said, his voice softer now. "Now, do you want these eggs scrambled or burnt? Those are the only options."
By the time the group gathered for breakfast, Derek was already in full-on leader mode. He stood at the head of the table, his arms crossed and his tone sharp.
"Today, we start training," he announced. "No distractions, no complaints. The hunters aren't going to stop, and if you're not prepared, you'll get yourselves—and everyone around you—killed."
Stiles raised a hand. "Quick question: does training include getting murdered by you? Because your motivational speeches really need some work."
Derek shot him a glare but didn't respond. Scott stifled a laugh, while Stella smiled behind her coffee mug.
"Stiles," Derek said finally, his voice low, "you're here because you insisted. Try not to get in the way."
"Noted," Stiles said, giving a mock salute.
The training began in a clearing just behind the cabin. Derek had set up a rudimentary course with logs, ropes, and old barrels, each one designed to test their strength, speed, and control.
"Start with the basics," Derek instructed. "Focus on your senses. Smell, hearing, balance. You need to sharpen them if you're going to survive."
Scott went first, his movements fluid but deliberate. He jumped over a log with ease, his enhanced reflexes on full display. Stella watched, her nerves tightening as she realized it would be her turn next.
"You're up," Derek said, nodding at her.
Stella stepped forward, her heart pounding. She closed her eyes and focused, letting the forest come alive around her. The rustle of leaves, the distant chirp of birds, the faint scent of pine and damp earth—it all sharpened as she let her senses guide her.
She moved through the course, her body reacting instinctively. She leapt over the log, dodged the swinging rope, and landed gracefully on the other side. For a moment, pride surged in her chest.
"Not bad," Derek said, his tone begrudgingly approving. "But you hesitated on the rope. If it were a real fight, that would've gotten you killed."
The pride deflated as quickly as it had come, but Stella nodded, her jaw tightening. "Got it."
Stiles clapped from the sidelines. "A solid B-plus! You crushed the log jump, by the way."
"Thanks, Stiles," Stella said, unable to hide her smile.
By the afternoon, the training grew more intense. Derek paired Scott and Stella together, forcing them to spar while he barked corrections from the sidelines. Stella struggled at first, her movements stiff and uncertain. But Scott was patient, guiding her through each step until her confidence grew.
"You're getting better," Scott said, offering her a hand after she landed hard on the ground.
"Still a long way to go," Stella muttered, brushing dirt off her jeans.
"Yeah, but you're tougher than you think," Scott said, a small smile on his face. "You've always been tough, Stell."
Her heart warmed at his words, but the moment was interrupted by Derek's sharp voice. "Again."
That evening, Stella sat on the porch, her muscles aching and her mind heavy. Stiles joined her, dropping onto the steps with a dramatic sigh.
"Well, that was… brutal," he said, leaning back on his elbows. "But hey, you didn't die. That's a win."
"Barely," Stella muttered, her eyes fixed on the treeline.
Stiles nudged her shoulder. "You were awesome out there. Seriously. Derek might be Captain Doom and Gloom, but even he can't deny how much you've improved."
She glanced at him, her lips twitching into a faint smile. "Thanks, Stiles."
He grinned, the kind of grin that made her feel like maybe everything wasn't as hopeless as it seemed. "You know, I was thinking," he said, his tone turning playful. "If we survive this, we should celebrate. Pizza, bad movies, the works."
"Deal," Stella said, laughing softly.
Morning came too quickly. The crisp chill of the forest hung in the air as Stella stretched her aching muscles on the cabin porch. Every fiber of her body ached from yesterday's training, but she was determined to push through. She had to. The hunters weren't going to wait for her to catch up.
Derek emerged from the cabin, his usual scowl firmly in place. "You've got ten minutes to eat. Then we're back out there."
Stella sighed but nodded. She was too tired to argue. Stiles appeared behind her, holding two steaming mugs of coffee. "Thought you might need this," he said, handing one to her.
"You're a lifesaver," Stella said, taking a sip and savoring the warmth. "Though I'm starting to think coffee isn't going to fix everything."
"Hey, don't underestimate the power of caffeine," Stiles said, his grin widening. "It's gotten me through a lot of questionable decisions. Like, for instance, following you into a werewolf death camp."
Stella laughed softly, the sound easing some of the tension in her chest. "You didn't have to come, you know."
"And yet, here I am," he replied, bumping her shoulder gently. "You're stuck with me, McCall."
She shook her head but couldn't help smiling. As much as she worried about him being here, Stiles had a way of making everything feel a little less impossible.
Derek led them deeper into the woods that morning, stopping at a clearing surrounded by towering pines. "Today, we focus on your senses," he announced, his tone brooking no argument. "If you can't hear a threat coming or sense danger before it happens, you're dead."
"Great," Stiles muttered under his breath. "Because we haven't had enough near-death experiences already."
Derek ignored him, turning to Stella and Scott. "Close your eyes," he ordered. "You need to block out everything else. Focus on what you can hear, smell, and feel."
Stella hesitated but obeyed, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. The forest came alive around her—the rustle of leaves in the breeze, the distant chirp of birds, the faint scent of damp earth and pine. It was overwhelming at first, but she forced herself to focus.
"What do you hear?" Derek asked.
"Birds," Stella said after a moment. "The wind. There's… something moving in the brush."
Derek nodded. "Good. Now, what do you smell?"
She took another deep breath, letting the scents wash over her. "Pine. Wet dirt. And… something metallic?" She opened her eyes, frowning. "What is that?"
Derek's expression darkened. "That's blood."
Scott stiffened. "Hunters?"
"Possibly," Derek said. "Stay alert."
They followed the scent to a small clearing, where the faint metallic tang of blood grew stronger. Stella's heart raced as they approached a pile of broken branches, where a wounded deer lay motionless, its breathing shallow.
"Not hunters," Derek said, crouching to examine the animal. "But something spooked it."
Scott frowned. "Another wolf?"
"Could be," Derek said. "Or it could be something worse."
Stella shivered at his words, her heightened senses picking up the tension in the air. "What do we do?"
"We keep moving," Derek said, standing. "Stay focused. If there's something out here, I want to find it before it finds us."
As they continued through the forest, Stella couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that they were being watched. Every crack of a branch or rustle of leaves made her heart jump, her instincts screaming at her to run.
"Stiles," she whispered, falling back to walk beside him. "Do you feel that?"
"Feel what?" he asked, his voice low.
"Like… we're not alone," she said, glancing over her shoulder.
Stiles's eyes darted around the trees, his usual bravado fading. "Okay, now you're officially freaking me out."
"Good," Derek called from ahead, his voice sharp. "Fear keeps you alive."
Stiles muttered something under his breath, and Stella bit back a laugh, the tension in her chest easing just slightly.
When they returned to the cabin that evening, the air was heavy with exhaustion and unspoken worry. Stella dropped onto the couch, her legs feeling like lead. Scott sat across from her, his expression grim.
"You did good today," he said after a long silence.
Stella snorted. "I barely held it together."
"Doesn't matter," Scott said. "You're getting stronger. You just don't see it yet."
She looked at him, his steady confidence both comforting and frustrating. "What if it's not enough?" she asked quietly. "What if we can't stop them?"
Scott leaned forward, his gaze unwavering. "We will. Because we have to."
Stella nodded, though the doubt lingered. She wanted to believe him, but the shadow of the hunters loomed too large to ignore.
Later that night, Stella found herself on the porch, staring up at the stars. The forest was quiet now, the tension of the day giving way to a fragile peace. She wrapped her arms around herself, the cool night air biting at her skin.
"You okay?" Stiles's voice broke the silence.
She turned to see him standing in the doorway, his hands shoved into his hoodie pockets. "Yeah," she said softly. "Just… thinking."
"Dangerous pastime," he joked, stepping out onto the porch. He leaned against the railing beside her, his gaze drifting to the sky. "What's on your mind?"
"Everything," she admitted. "The hunters. The training. Whether or not we're ready for any of this."
"You are," he said, his voice firm. "You've got this, Stella. I mean, you survived Derek's boot camp, and that's saying something."
She laughed despite herself. "Thanks, Stiles."
"Anytime," he said, nudging her shoulder gently. "You know I'm here for you, right? No matter what."
Her chest tightened at his words, and she glanced at him, his brown eyes steady and sincere. "I know," she said softly. "And I'm glad."
For a moment, the weight on her shoulders felt a little lighter, and she allowed herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, they would make it through this.