INHERITANCE , teen wolf

𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒚 𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒆 , dark moon

Now, she had been part of the pack for a month. And even after all of those tests, it wasn't until tonight Malia Tate learned just what it meant to be a part of the McCall Pack. She'd been in bed, wrapped up warm, prepared to have one of her beloved long, undisturbed nights of sleep until her ears had perked up in the middle of the night. Rustling outside of her bedroom window as someone tried to break in through the window, climbing through it. Naturally, the werecoyote had sprung out of bed, attacking, or at least trying to attack the intruder, her eyes glowing their cold steel blue. She had tried to bend back the arm of the intruder, to tackle them to the floor, ultimately, she was the one left whimpering like an injured puppy. 

Her attack hadn't worked. And it was a good job that it hadn't. Because if it hadn't been Kinsey climbing into her bedroom, she would have revealed herself and her abilities to a stranger.

"I almost killed you." Malia snarled at the brunette, her words hushed, conscious of her father sleeping down the hall, knowing that if he heard even the slightest of a peep he would barge in with his gun in hand, prepared to shoot Kinsey before she had a chance to explain. 

"Lia, please. I'm a trained hunter, it takes more than that." Kinsey scoffed. "Now put away the claws and get dressed. I need your help." 

Malia had needed nothing more than to hear those words from the brunette for her to grab her closest pair of shorts, her combat boots, high knee socks, and a cardigan, both of them climbing out the same window Kinsey had snuck in through. She didn't ask questions at first, in fact, the drive was mostly silent, the werecoyote was still trying to wake up, the streetlights flashing into her eyes as they drove under them managed to speed up the process. It wasn't until they pulled up outside of a large apartment building that Malia started to ask questions. Her first being what had brought them here. Now, Kinsey was finally prepared to explain.

She too had been trying to get a peaceful night's sleep, and she thought she had been until she had found herself sitting in the locker room. Her cousin, Derek, sat in front of her, his head in his hands as he sat on one of the benches, nervously tapping his leg, as though he was waiting for her to arrive. He looked stressed, maybe even scared. An emotion she hardly ever saw on Derek in all of the time they had known one another. And even in those times, she had seen fear inside of him, she had never seen a look like this. 

He'd had a dream, he told her, more like a nightmare. It started with some hunters, the ones who had captured him and her father after they'd left Cora. A family of them, all led by a man named Severo. They had broken into his loft, and shot at him, demanding to know about the La Loba, a she-wolf. It was at that point of the story Kinsey grew confused, unsure who the she-wolf was, Derek didn't know either, he had thought it was Cora, but it wasn't. But Severo had never heard of Cora Hale, it wasn't her who he was interested in.

That was when the loft was ambushed, again, for the second time in minutes. Even the hunters in the loft were scared as they all duct down, hiding under a smoke bomb, trying to see through it.  The hunters had aimed their gunfire over the entire loft, trying to shoot whoever tried to pull a surprise attack on them, but one by one, each of them were taken down. All but Severo who'd managed to escape, narrowly. Derek on the other hand hadn't. He was shot. Again. He had seen the person who shot at him, but when Kinsey had asked him who it was, he didn't give the girl a straight answer. Instead, he spoke of myths. About how one could be turned into a werewolf.

One myth revolved around rainwater. Drinking from the puddle of a wolf's footprint, Kinsey had heard about that myth before. Of course, there was the bite. But there was another one. Turned by a scratch, if the claws went deep enough, it was possible. Kinsey hadn't known that one, nor did she know why Derek was telling her any of this, why he was beating around the bush rather than being his usual straightforward self, it was unusual for him.