Eye of the Hurricane ▸ Scott McCall (2)

xxiii. TRANSFORMATION

xxiii. TRANSFORMATION

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After the whole incident which involved none other than new girl, Kira Yukimura, almost being turned into a coyote's dinner, Stiles, Scott, and Foster came to the realization that it was the time the three of them devised a plan in order to save Malia Tate. Not only that, but her father was on a hunt for blood. What he didn't know, though, was that he on the hunt for his own daughters. Basically what they needed to do now was keeping a father from murdering his own daughter, who was a coyote. . . who also hadn't been a normal girl for over eight whole years. Maybe it was going to be a bit more difficult than a simple wave of a wand, but at least they could try.

They were circled around Deaton's back table, Isaac and Deaton both accompanying them. Isaac decided to tag along, mainly for the sole fact that he was bored and Foster wouldn't be home so he might as well join in on the whole Beacon Hills Scooby Doo gang.

Deaton entered the room, all four of the teenagers glancing toward him while he explained, "Zylozine." He set down three capsules of the clear liquid. "It's a tranquilizer for horses. For a werecoyote, expect it to work within seconds. I only have three, so whoever's shooting needs to be a damn good shot."

Foster smirked. "Good thing we have Allison freaking Argent here then. She'll be able to do it."

Isaac only glanced up toward his blonde friend, musing, "If we manage to find the thing."

Foster gaped at him, shooting her best friend a glare. In response, Isaac cocked his head to the side in questioning. Stiles and Scott watched the duo in confusion with a hint of irritation directed toward Isaac.

Shaking his head in disbelief at the two having a silent conversation with various mannerisms, Stiles spoke up, "What is the point of him?" He pointed a finger out into Isaac's direction. "Seriously, what is his purpose? Aside from the persistent negativity and the scarf." Isaac shot him a dirty look, rolling his eyes. "What's up with the scarf, anyway? It's sixty five degrees out."

Foster's eyes widened, knowing that Isaac had bit of an obsession when it came to himself and his scarves. She was awaiting the ticking time bomb that was now Isaac Lahey, watching as the teen wolf's jaw fell slack, fighting the urge to snap a remark in Stiles' direction. Foster continued to gape at Stiles, her brunette, lanky friend shooting her a questioning look.

"What did I do now?" Stiles demanded, Foster's blue eyes wavering back and forth between the two.

"Talking bad about scarves in front of Isaac is like worshipping Satan in a church," Foster pointed out rather breathlessly, still shocked that Isaac hasn't leaped over the table yet and strangled the living daylights out of Stiles. She then looked toward her curly haired best friend, assuring, "I like your scarf, Isaac."

Isaac's arms were now protectively crossed over his chest, still trying to keep himself from fuming. Grinning toward his best friend, he beamed, "Thanks, Foster. Someone's appreciative of them." He then shot Stiles a dirty look, adding on, "And maybe I'm just the only one asking the questions that no one here wants to ask. Alright? How do we a turn a coyote back into a girl when she hasn't been a girl for eight years."

Everyone was silent, Foster pointing a finger toward him. "As much as I hate to admit it, he does have a point."

Scott continued to look down at his reflection in the metal, the true alpha remaining silent while the other three teenagers had continued arguing and bantering like it was their lifestyle.

Barely audible, Scott spoke, "I can do it." Foster glanced over toward him, Scott glancing up and allowing his brown eyes to lock on her blue ones. She didn't know how to react to this, knowing that he could barely keep his werewolf side in order right now. Just the other day, he shifted in the middle of the school hallway. They were about this close to him ripping off some poor freshman's head. That would be a hard thing to explain to Finstock.