𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐫, m. tate & i. lahey

𝟎𝟎𝟎. prologue

ANCHOR

____________

THE SOUND OF a loud roar filled Malia's ears, but it wasn't from another animal. It came from a boy. A teenage boy. He had extra hair on each side of his face, fangs protruding from his mouth, claws coming out of his fingertips, and glowing red eyes.

However, upon hearing that noise, Malia felt something inside her shift. One minute, she was in a fur coat and standing on all fours. The next, she was lying on the leaves from fallen trees. Malia slowly lifted her head up from the ground and looked ahead of her. He was still standing there, staring at her with a shocked expression.

After a few seconds, Malia brought her left hand up to her eyes. Human fingers, not paws. Fingers. Malia glanced around, gazing throughout the forest. She wasn't a coyote anymore. Her breathing was heavy. She had no clothes, no fur. And it was freezing cold.

A couple moments later, Malia saw a girl and a boy coming toward her. The girl had brunette hair; the boy had dirty blond. As they got closer, she realized that they were the same people from earlier— the boy had gotten caught in a coyote trap. As soon as they arrived, another pair of teenagers came. Strawberry blonde and dark brown.

Both girls quietly asked the boys a question before leaving their sides, rushing to Malia. She stayed still, sitting on the leaves, unsure of what to do. The strawberry blonde reached Malia first, crouching down beside her and motioning for the other to hurry.

"Hey, are you alright? Oh, you must be freezing," she said as she reached her hand out to the brunette, who passed her a thick jacket. They gently tossed it over Malia's shoulders and rubbed them, trying to keep her warm. They helped her off her knees, gently placing their hands under her elbows as they lifted her off the soil. "Can you stand?" Malia nodded and they let go.

"Can you tell us your name?" one asked. Her gaze flickered between the two before she answered.

"Malia. My name's Malia." She grabbed the sides of the jacket and pulled it tighter around herself. The girls gave her a light smile. "What's happen—?" she started, but before she could finish, Malia was interrupted by a thunderous voice.

"Stiles! Did you find her?" a man shouted, running toward the group of teenagers. The brown-haired boy nodded and pointed in the direction of Malia. "Oh, thank God," he sighed.

Malia scanned the group surrounding her. Six people; one adult man, three boys, and the two girls beside her. Two of the boys were talking to the man, who was dressed in a police uniform. Malia turned her head to the right, her eyes landing on the dirty blond, who was a few feet away. He was already looking at her.

The crunching of leaves and branches caused Malia's attention to drift away from him and back to the front of her. The Sheriff and two boys approached her carefully. "Malia? Are you okay?" the man questioned. She ignored him, however, and glared at the boys instead. "Ah, this is Scott, and this is Stiles. Stiles is my son. That young man over there"—he pointed to the dirty blond—"is Isaac."

"I'm Allison," the brunette introduced herself, a warm smile spread across her face. "This is Lydia."

The strawberry blonde said "hello" as she looked at Malia with soft eyes. Before Malia could respond, the Sheriff interrupted.

"Malia, do you know why we're here?" he asked. She shook her head.

"We're taking you home."

____________

The light moved left from right, Malia becoming more and more irritated with the man who held the flashlight. She let out a low growl, and he flipped it off in an instant. "She seems to be perfectly healthy. No side effects or issues are evident. Well, except for the growling, but that should fade as she adjusts to being human."

"So, she doesn't have rabies or anything?" Stiles asked, which caused everyone's heads to snap to his direction. The boy shrugged, holding his hands up in defense. "What? Just making sure..."

"Deaton, what should we... what should we do?" questioned Scott, motioning toward the girl, who was sitting on the examination table in the middle of the room, a hospital gown covering her body. "I mean, how are we supposed to—?"

"Explain?" the man finished, and Scott nodded in confirmation. "Take it easy and slow. Don't rush it and don't overwhelm her."

"I'm right here. Just say whatever it is you want to say."

All eyes averted to Malia, whose lips were slightly parted. She shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly. Scott cleared his throat as he took a step closer to the girl. "Uh, Malia... we have some things to tell you, but they aren't normal."

Malia creased her eyebrows once more, confused by his words. Scott sighed, turning to Deaton for guidance. The man opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by a certain tall, dirty blond. "You're a werecoyote, we're werewolves, and supernatural creatures exist."

"Isaac!" Allison hissed, gaping at him in disbelief. Stiles dragged a hand over his face in exasperation.

"Are you kidding me?" Lydia muttered to herself, scoffing under her breath.

"Thank you, Isaac, for your input. Now, if you wouldn't mind Scott and me taking over..." Deaton trailed off, waiting for the younger boy's response.

"Oh. Uh, yeah— sorry." He apologized quickly, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. Stiles rolled his eyes at him.

Deaton took a step closer, as did Scott, and they both stopped about three feet away from Malia. She glanced at Isaac, who had his head lowered in embarrassment, and practically ignored the figures in front of her. The veterinarian grabbed a folder off a table and flipped it open with ease.

"Malia Elizabeth Tate. Born November of 1994. That would make you almost seventeen. Correct?" the veterinarian inquired. Malia snapped her attention to him. She hesitantly nodded, uncertain of both herself and him. "Good. Do you remember how old you were when you got in the car accident?"

Malia thought for a minute. "I was nine."

"Right. You don't seem to have any issues remembering that night."

"It's not like it's easy to forget." She muttered, glaring at him with annoyance and defensiveness.

He paused and took in her emotional state before nodding in acknowledgment, closing the file and dropping it on the table again.  "I realize I may have touched a sensitive topic for you just now, and I apologize. However, I need to know if there is anything else from that night you may remember. It could help us bring peace to your family." Deaton said calmly.

Malia's shoulders relaxed, and her gaze fell to the concrete floor.

"I just remember my sister. She was playing with her doll." Her voice broke as she mentioned her sister. The young girl had been in the car with Malia when she had her first transformation. "And my mom..."

"I think that's enough," Allison blurted, walking closer to the werecoyote. Lydia joined the huntress, standing on the other side of Malia.

Stiles sighed, "Allison—"

"I think they're right. We can continue another time." Deaton agreed with the two girls, turning to the Alpha. "She needs to adjust first." He explained in a hushed tone.

Scott and Stiles shared a reluctant look, and then nodded. Allison and Lydia smiled thankfully at them, to which they returned with gentle expressions.

Isaac sat in the corner of the room, proceeding to watch Malia with interest as he had for the past few minutes.

She fidgeted with the hem of her hospital gown, the light blue fabric soft on her skin. Her hair was still tangled and frizzy, though Lydia and Allison had picked out most of the leaves, and her skin was smudged with dirt. She kept a blank face as she stared at the ground, but she was burning with rage inside. And he could tell.