Chapter Text
Stiles shivers against the cold as he crests the ridgeline, huddling in his too-thin hoodie and clutching the borrowed bat from Scott a little bit tighter. He can see the glow of the sheriff’s department flashlights through the trees below, hear the shouts of men and the barks of the dogs from the K-9 unit. He’s far enough away in the darkness that they shouldn’t spot him, and he knows he’s downwind as well. Stiles descends the ridge, but then hooks a sharp left, making sure to keep parallel to the deputies, keep a good distance between them, though their presence gives him a measure of comfort, makes him feel less alone in the darkness of the preserve. He still wishes Scott had agreed to come with him instead of insisting on getting a good night’s rest before lacrosse practice in the morning - it’s a fruitless endeavor, they’ll be warming the bench like usual, and finding a body would be a much more thrilling adventure. Well, half of a body. He’d heard the call over his contraband police radio - two hikers had found a body in the woods, the lower half of one anyhow.
Stiles is clambering over a fallen log when there’s a loud rustling in the trees ahead. He freezes, squinting into the darkness and choking up on the bat when the noise resolves itself into the thunder of hooves, just as the moon above glints off the eyes of what must be a hundred deer. He barely manages to flail his way backwards, landing with a hard thud on the ground, his keys and phone spilling out of his pocket in a jangle as he tips. Stiles manages to roll half under the log, feeling the rush of wind as the herd leaps over it, hooves crashing to the ground where he was mere moments before. It feels like forever before the animals have finally all passed, his heart thundering louder than their hooves. He waits a few minutes more anyhow, making sure there aren’t any stragglers before carefully easing out from beneath the log, limbs achy from the hard fall.
The bat is easy to find, snatched up quickly and used as a crutch to help him keep balance on the uneven ground, his free hand sliding through wet leaves and moss and god knows what else before he manages to find his phone. The screen has a tiny crack, but miraculously must have managed to not get stepped on and is mostly unharmed. The lights and sounds from the deputies have moved further away while he was trapped, so he takes the risk of turning on the cell’s flashlight, using it and his feet to kick gently through the debris in search of his keys. Stiles thinks Scott had the right idea after all, and as soon as he finds his keys, he’s gonna be out of here. He keeps shuffling along, expecting that they should be right there but not finding them, afraid that the trampling of the deer had somehow kicked them away completely. He’s so focused on his search that he isn’t expecting it when he rounds the end of the log, flashlight skimming over entrails and pale flesh, a face frozen startled in death. He screams, can’t help it, and falls backwards, bat lost in the frantic need to get away. Finding a body is a lot more horrifying than he expected.
Stiles manages to get back to his feet, chest heaving and heart pounding, just in time to hear the low growl behind him. He spins, arms raised despite the loss of the bat, when something dark and hulking crashes against him, a sharp pain in his side and then it’s gone. There’s nothing for it then, his legs move without conscious thought, propelling him along the ravine, phantom breath on his neck. The forest around him is still, makes the pounding of his heart, the crash of his body through the underbrush so very loud. Whatever that was, it was fast. He can’t outrun it, not if it’s chasing him. He pushes through the trees, stumbles when he’s suddenly free of the forest, asphalt beneath his feet, rain suddenly pouring out around him. A flash of light, the blare of a horn, and he stumbles back onto the grassy edge of the road as a car swerves. Stiles tries to catch his breath, calm his heart, stave off the panic attack he can feel swelling deep inside. His eyes flick back to the darkness of the forest, but there’s nothing to see. The woods seemed to have awakened again, soft rustles in the branches, birds and small night animals shifting around - the eerie stillness from his flight gone. It helps more than putting his head between his knees might have, and he takes a few more breaths, hand pressed against his aching side, as he starts to walk along the road, back towards the bend ahead that hides the parking lot where his jeep is waiting. His keys are gone, but one of the deputies had taught him how to hotwire it earlier in the year when the ignition froze up on him, so he can get home, knows where the hide-a-key is at to get back inside before his dad returns. He’s climbing into the jeep when he hears it, a mournful howl somewhere deep in the forest, his body shivering as it echoes. He’d think it was a wolf, if he didn’t know better.