.・゜゜・｡･:*˚:✧｡ stiles stilinski
Stiles Stilinski had just been thrown into the world of the supernatural when his best friend Scott McCall was turned into a werewolf.
The mission to find the alpha is a foot.
However, an ancient resident of Beacon H...
CHAPTER FIVE the misadventures of Stiles Stilinski
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IT HAD BEEN A FEW DAYS SINCE THE FATEFUL INCIDENT AT THE VET CLINIC, Stiles' mind having conjured a whirlwind of theories that he had been quick to throw onto his walls. Red string basically everywhere, as well as the incorporation of black across the wall. Having determined a need for a new colour seeing as he was still unsure if his new wolf friend was actually real, or what the deal with the small, socially anxious boy in his class might be. He had concluded that black was to mean 'theorising', and would move it onto red when evidence is put forth.
Which is exactly what Stilinski intended to achieve, having already grown sick of the tar colour quickly invading his wall, as note squabbles and small accounts of incidents were all he had tying anything together.
But that was to change.
Stiles had packed a bag, snacks, torches, a notepad, some power banks and a numerous amount of packets of smoked ham. He was going to catch himself a wolf... on camera, of course.
The buzzcut boy slung a hoodie over his head, his bag following after, as he made his way towards his open window, car keys in hand, he looked back at his door. He felt guilty about doing stuff like this, he didn't want to make the his dad worry, he already had enough to deal with at work and all. He looked again at his wall, the numerous amounts of black string, the tennis ball size of yarn that was full not two hours ago. What if he was just chasing a dream? What if the wolf wasn't real? Surely if it was Scott would have sensed it with his new werewolf abilities, wouldn't he?
Shaking his head, sighing to himself as the cold envelopes him as he perched on his windowsill. Mentally he prayed for a sign, anything before he left that would tell him he wasn't acting completely insane. A small symbol that his sanity remained intact, or even remained at all. He closed his eyes tight, sighing once again, and waited. Five... four... three.. two-
And sure enough, the distant calling of a loud howl answered his prayers.
--
The dead of the night had engulfed the town of Beacon Hills, everything and everyone seeming quiet, still. It was almost abnormal to be out in the woods, no sounds or sight of life amongst the trees, no indication of life beside the curious boy with the backpack of meat products.
If anyone had of stumbled across the boy in the situation, one would assume him to be giving himself to some cultist ritual.
He was excited. Seeing the wolf again was almost like a dream come true, especially with how close he had gotten last time. He almost hoped that this time the wolf may let him touch it... although part of him realised that it was childish to wish such things, as this was a wild creature, albeit a bit bizarre.
--
The Stilinski boy hadn't meant to wonder so far from the road, he had just been so determined to get the proof he needed, for his case as well as his sanity.
After realising he was lost, and unnerving feeling had washed over him. He felt as though he was being watched, hunted even. It probably didn't help that his backpack smelled like a butcher's shop, but that wasn't on the anxious boys mind right know.
He rung his left hand in the straps of his bag, his right having a camera at the ready. With the darkening sky he was frantic to find any evidence before it would be too dark to search. Although that didn't seem like it would be happening today.
A growl in the distance behind him had him spinning in all directions, scared for his life yet eager to record anything he saw.
He was suddenly shoved onto the ground, a heavier weight pinning him with a snarl.
He reached for his fallen camera, only to find the lense smashed upon impact. The snarling continued above him, making him freeze in fear.
"Oh, it's just Stiles.... What're y-you doing out here?"
He immediately snapped his attention to the voice, finding it to be none other than the new kid. Turning his attention above him, he found himself face to face with the piercing eyes of Derek Hale.
"Erm... hi?"
With a scoff Derek got off him, getting up and going to stand beside the much smaller teenager. "What're you doing out here." The deeper voice demanded rather than asked.
"I could ask you guys the same thing." Stiles snarked back, not wanting to get the two involved in his private investigation.
"I live here, and he's visiting." Derek quickly remarked, not liking the teen's manner at all. When Stiles remained silent, he turned to the younger boy. "By the meaty smell of his bag, he's hoping to gain the attention of something."
"Monster hunting, then Stiles? B-but I assure you, a bag of ham won't gain the attention of anything from my journal." The small boy commented, firm in what he said, despite the slight stutters.
"How'd you figure out I stole it?"
"W-well when Isaac s-said you returned my bag to him, I just figured." The King boy shrugs, not really wanting to speak too much. "I w-want it back though."
Stiles froze, he stood up from the ground, a hand on his neck as he attempted to explain his dilema. "Yeah, well, about tha-"
A deafening roar sounded in the distance, cutting off all conversation. The trio turned quickly to the source.
Low and behold, before them stood the gigantic beast of a white wolf.
The three stood with mixed emotions, anxiety, joy, apprehension... until they all mixed into one as the beast growled, staring them down from the short distance.
Anxiety picked up as the wolf started walking forwards.
Stiles nearly shrieked when it had started running at them, Derek quick to get his claws out, but very well in knowing that he would not win against the beast.
They didn't know what to do as they stared imminent death in the face. Stiles noted how this wasn't like their other meetings, the wolf's body language had changed drastically from its calm defence to a hostile attack.
The beast showed no signs of stopping. Even Derek, the publicly known emotionless sourwolf, had presented a face of terror before the red eyes of death. A sight that shocked Stiles greatly, dropping his bag, realising how screwed they actually were.
As if the sound had snapped him out of something, Nox ran forwards. Picking up the discarded bag, he began running head on at the wolf.
"That's!" He started, flinging the bag as hard as he could over head and towards the wolf, "Enough!"
Everyone was silent. Stunned.
The wolf had stopped. The boy had stopped. Everyone had stopped.
