Werefox

Chapter Ten

Stiles was nervous. A whole week had passed and he hadn't seen the substitute hunter since his first math class, but that wasn't why he was nervous.

No, he was scared for the lacrosse game tonight. He was with Liam, Isaac, and Scott in the locker room, waiting for them to tell him when they were going to go out on the field.

"Are you excited?" Liam asked Stiles, who was sitting on one of the benches, pulling on his number 24 jersey.

"Nervous." Stiles admitted. "Even though I might not even play." Liam huffed, frowning lightheartedly.

"Are you kidding? You're like, as good as Scott." Liam said earnestly. "He'd be crazy not to put you in!" Stiles smiled at the freshman, already feeling a little bit better as the coach's whistle told them it was time to go out onto the field.

They quickly jogged out towards the benches on the side of the field, Stiles setting down his stick and helmet at the end where Scott and Isaac put their stuff.

"Stiles!" He heard Allison's voice call his name, and he turned around to where he heard it. She walked closer to him. "This is my grandfather, Gerard."

Stiles looked at the older man standing next to her, his heart freezing and dropping six feet underground as he realized who it was.

Gerard, a hunter.

Gerard, the one who told the hunters to keep him alive for some sick experiment he had planned. The one who had kept him in a tiny room for two months and who was probably furious that he had gotten out.

He looked down at the man's hand that was outstretched expectantly, and he looked back up at the man, who had a look on his face that looked like "shake-my-hand-or-I'll-kill-you", and he gulped before forcing his hand into the other man's.

"Nice to meet you." Stiles choked out, smiling nervously at the man. "I should, um, probably go warm up."

"Good luck." Gerard said, Allison echoing him as the pair walked towards the bleachers. Stiles wiped the sweat off his forehead that seemed to materialize at the sight of the man who had captured him, wincing as his hand burned against his forehead.

He looked down at it, wondering if Gerard was the same as the other lady. Did all hunters take a bath in foxglove before they went out and started their day?

Stiles glanced up into the bleachers, shaking his hand as it stung painfully, Gerard only holding a mildly amused look on his face as he met his gaze, watching the fox struggle at the slightest bit of the poison.

Stiles' gaze slid to Theo, who was sitting a few feet away from Allison and her grandfather with Lydia and Malia. He was frowning, and he knew that despite his weakened chemosignals his heart was beating a million miles an hour.

He saw Theo lean backwards slightly, glancing up towards where Allison was sitting with her grandfather, and he saw the werewolf quickly put two and two together, turning back towards Stiles with a frown.

"Are you okay?" Isaac asked, making Stiles turn back towards the field where the ref was starting the game.

"What?" Stiles asked, processing the question. "Oh. Yeah, fine. Just nervous for the game." Isaac frowned, but nodded, putting his helmet on and running out towards the goal where he was starting on defense.

Stiles sunk onto the bench, his eyes scanning past the field as he looked for a familiar calming face, taking a deep breath when he saw Derek standing in between two of the bleachers designated for the opposing team, a soft frown on his face as Stiles knew that all of his werewolf friends were probably now aware of his extremely nervous, wrecked state.

Too scared to look behind him again, Stiles instead focused on the game, watching their score climb but quickly fall behind the other team's, tying with five each with one minute left in the fourth quarter of the game.

Coach Finstock seemed to be sweating buckets as he had to pull another boy off the field after being pummelled by two of the huge defense players from the other team. The permanent frown he usually wore on his face seemed to only deepen as his eyes landed on Stiles as the referees asked him to send in another player.

"Stilinski, you're up." Coach said, making him look up from where he was watching the field. "Don't mess this up." Stiles nodded, pulling his helmet on as he vaguely heard his friends cheering his name from behind him as he lined up in the center of the field, crouched down next to a guy who seemed to be three feet taller than him.

He heard the shrill squeal of a whistle in his ear, and he was off, thanking his fast reflexes as he quickly wrestled the ball off the ground, taking off towards the goal.

There were three defenders and the goalie he had to get past. He thought quick, deciding that he was going to do what foxes do best.

Play a trick on them.

Stiles leaned to the left, his path only veering slightly, but the two defenders in front took notice, both of them getting ready to set up for a block on his left side, but as soon as he got within half a foot of them, he quickly switched directions, grinning widely as one of them stumbled as they weren't stopped by him like the expected.

He glanced at the clock to the right of him. Ten seconds left and thirty feet away from the goal. Stiles sped up his run, spinning around the last defender with only fifteen feet away from him in the goal.

This feels great, he thought, smiling. He forgot all about his worries for a moment, five seconds left, before letting the ball loose, sending it straight into the back of the net as the clock rang out.

Stiles stopped in his tracks, as if he was processing the win, before turning around with a wide grin. He saw coach on the sidelines slam his clipboard down, practically jumping up and down in excitement, he saw his friends cheering in the bleachers, and-

Gerard's face, slightly amused, but to Stiles, it just felt sinister, and it made him drop his stick, taking a step back.

Suddenly, the whole area plunged into darkness, the stadium lights suddenly turning off, and he knew that this was something of Gerard's work, and he immediately took off, knowing the woods were forty feet behind the goal and if he could make it there then he would be able to shift and get away and hide his scent somehow.

It's a shame he never made it past the goal, instead meeting a baseball bat that was slammed into the side of his head, making the werefox crumple to the ground and get dragged away just in time for the stadium lights to come back on.