Midnight Scarlet » Stilinski

Six

 AN: Sorry I haven't updated in a while; school's been wearing me out. But, like I promised,   there's two new chapters for you guys. Like always, VOTE. COMMENT. FAN. ENJOY. Love ya.

                                                           

                                                         Chapter Six

 

The dead leaves crunch under my boots, and I shiver in the cold February air. I kind of wish that I still had my heels because while they hurt, they grew on me, but they’re officially Lydia’s, which means that I don’t want them back.

            Isaac keeps up pace with me, sticking his hands in his pockets and humming a tune that doesn’t have a rhythm. The noise makes me want my guitar so badly.

            “Are you sure we’re going the right way?” He asks, kicking a rock in front of him.

            I nod. “I’m sure. I’ve lived with them pretty much my whole life. I can tell their scent anywhere, and we’re definitely on the right track.”

            Heading back to the pack house that I ran from is taking all of my strength. I don’t want to go back, but I know it’s not for long. I’m only there to try to sneak in, grab some clothes, and get out. Hopefully, the scent of humans that lingers on me can mask the smell of my alpha blood.

            “I don’t think this is a good idea, Aubrey.” Isaac seems doubtful, but he can’t change my mind for me. I’m determined to go, and he can’t stop me.

            I shove his shoulder a bit. “If you want, you can go back to the Hale house, but I’m not.”

            He shakes his head. “You know I can’t do that. Derek asked me to come and protect you.”

            I groan. “I don’t need anyone to protect me, and I’m not going to run. I know if I do, Derek will find me anyway, so there’s no point.”

            “You learn fast,” he says.

            I press my mouth into a thin line. “I’ve been learning how to survive my whole life.”

            I stay silent, no matter how much he presses the fact that this isn’t a good idea. After a while, his voice is just background noise, and I listen to the sounds of the wilderness.

            Because of what I am, the woods always call to me, especially at night. Before last night, I’d barely ever been in them. On the full moon, while everyone was out hunting and controlling their bloodlust, I was chained in the basement, refrained from being free. I hate those chains for more reasons than just simply because they were a device to lock me up, though. Every time I look at the chains, I can still see the blood spilling over the edges, the crisp iron scent in the air. I’m delving far too deep into the horrors within my mind, so I let it slip away, back to the far recesses.

            Instead, I pay close attention to the woods, loving the fact that I’m in them, even if I’m not really free. I can smell damp wood from a previous rain, the thick earthiness that freezes in the air, and the cold that brushes my skin. Birds chirp in the distance, telling early signs of spring.

            I don’t realize it at first. The birds have stopped singing, and another scent is mixing with the trees. It’s familiar, but I can’t place it. I freeze, reaching out to grab Isaac’s arm. Leaves rustle somewhere nearby, and I hear a quiet growl.