Fourteen year old Wren isn't like the rest of the alpha pack. She doesn't have claws, fangs, glowing eyes or the innate desire to kill. She's just broken and trying to put the fragmented pieces back together.
[Season 3]
#1 scottmccall
#1 lydiamartin...
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𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐒 𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐍𝐂𝐇 beneath my feet as I follow Stiles closely, trying to find where Scott has disappeared to. I bite my lip as I think of my revelation.
If Malia really is a werecoyote then Scott could be in trouble. Ethan, Aidan and I barely made it out alive when we encountered a rogue werecoyote and Scott isn't as strong as the twins, especially when they merge. If they couldn't fight it Scott doesn't stand a chance.
Stiles suddenly halts in his tracks, resulting in me bumping into his back. Before I can open my mouth to complain Stiles quickly speaks up.
"Do you see that?" He questions, his head tilted as he eyes something in the distance before us.
"What?" I question, stepping forward to stand beside the boy as I squint my eyes, scanning the foliage for torn limbs or signs of a struggle as my mind immediately jumps to a conclusion of Scott's fate.
Without answering my question Stiles quickly takes off, rushing up a small hill where I spot a cave. Or a den.
"Stiles, wait up," I call after him as I quickly make my way up the hill. If it's a werecoyote den we shouldn't go inside as that will only scare the werecoyote off or make it angry; both of which could result in fatalities.
"It's Malia's den. She must've found this place after the crash," Stiles takes a step forward to enter the den but I quickly grab his arm, stopping him from moving.
"We should just go find Scott," I suggest, wanting to get away from the den before we leave a strong scent. Stiles quickly nods.
"Yeah, Scott will be able to get a better scent of Malia from here." Before I can argue Stiles takes off, similarly to how Scott did not long ago. I let out a puff of air before following after Stiles.
~~~
Stiles shines the bright flashlight to light our path as we move at speed through the reserve, occasionally calling Scott's name in hope of him hearing us.
"Maybe we should just head back to the jeep?" I suggest, the cold midnight air causing my rosy cheeks to sting, "If Scott's still alive he'll be able to find his way to the parking lot." Stiles stops and turns his head to stare at me incredulously, shaking his head slightly.
"I mean, I'm sure he's probably still alive," I quickly adjust what I said, realising my choice of words was poor. Realistic, but poor.
"Scott's probably lost, he has a horrible sense of direction," Stiles retorts as we resume to walk. I pause for a moment as I carefully scan our surroundings in the low light.
"Are you sure we aren't lost?" Stiles tilts his head and lets out a low hum.
"I'm like 90 percent sure we aren't lost." He pauses for a moment before speaking up again, "Okay, maybe like 80 percent. 75 at the lowest." I roll my eyes at his words before freezing as I hear something.
