𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬. sam uley

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐞

Though he can't hear Seth's thoughts, the heartwrenching howls that Seth produces as he runs through the forest are enough to decipher his feelings. Sam slows at them, the rawness like running on sandpaper. He tries to nip at Seth's heels, to let him know he's there, but Seth just howls and doesn't stop.

Doesn't stop sticking his nose in the ground either, like maybe he's searching for something.

He sniffs, and then howls, and then sniffs again, all paws and gangly limbs. Too young to have known death, to feel it yet again. In such a short time, too.

Sam howls.

Seth glances back at him, hazel eyes watery. He barks once, then stops.

Sam is forced to stop, too.

He is going to wait a moment, let Seth recuperate before he tries to press them on, but Seth is a statue, ears perked. Sam listens. There's a crack of a branch that he hears, purposeful and loud--cautious. Then, there's someone coming out of the trees, undetectable by smell, by heartbeat. By anything that would make it human.

Sam goes for the attack, thinking it's a leech, but Seth tackles him before he can, teeth sharp as they bite into Sam's ear. Sam snarls, escaping Seth's grip, whipping around and biting Seth by the scruff on his neck, his growls threatening, assessing. If Seth just brought Sam out here to set him up. . .

"I mean no harm, I swear!"

A defensive response if Sam's ever heard one. There's no chance he believes it, and he dodges Seth's attacks, going in for the kill, but when he looks at the person--who is no more than a boy, maybe ten or eleven--he stops.

He can't kill a child, unless. . .

"I'm not an immortal child," the boy supplies.

Sam growls. Another one like Edward, then. Must be a leech.

Seth whines, pushing into Sam, but Sam is not persuaded. This child must be a monster, something supernatural. He glares at Seth, his wolf defensive. The lack of scent on this creature is concerning and calls for immediate destruction. It doesn't matter if Seth is somehow friends with this being, his safety will always come first to Sam.

Sam runs forward. The kid is almost fifty feet away from him, and Sam's feet pound on the ground, rushing forwards. The boy closes his eyes, clenching them in fear, and something coils in Sam--bitter and angry and so much guilt it's consuming--before he presses it away.

He raises for the jump, jaw snapped open in a growl. The boys sighs, the hat that looks like it could belong on a chimney sweep crooked on his head, and holds out a shaking hand and in it is--

Sage's. . . her pendant with her coven signage on it.

The ruby in the pendant is harsh against the green background of the forest, the gold dazzling in the cloudy daylight; it glares at Sam with hatred, mocking him.

He wants to ask how, why--when. The need to take the pendant and maybe the boy's hand with it is almost overbearing, but Seth gives a low whine in his throat. A warning.

Sam swallows the howl that rises in his throat like bile.

The boy holds up another thing, his other hand coming out from behind his back. It's a sack of clothes. When all the boy does is look at him expectantly, Sam goes forwards and sniffs it. No smell at all, but at this point he expected it. He huffs, and then turns, looking for Seth, only to find Seth grinning as a human, catching the bag that had just been in the boy's hand.

"Thanks, Ez," Seth supplies, running over to a tree, hiding behind it, and then coming out, changed, in ten seconds flat. "You can turn around now."

Sam tries to process this, but everything is a haze of colors again, grief the most vibrant one. Black shadows dance in his vision, but his vision zones in on the pendant, a low growl forming in his throat.