25; trigger

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8:17pm
From: McWeirdo
Call me!!!!!!!!!

From: McWeirdo
Important!!!!

"Scott, if you text me one more time I'm blocking your number." Rachel whisper-yelled into her phone, the device nearly cracking in her inhumanly strong grip. She was currently stationed behind a tree, looking over her shoulder every few seconds as she listened to leaves crunch nearby.

"Where the hell are you? We need your help! Stiles' dad found a case, a girl named Malia— she's a—"

"Don't care!" The reflector snapped, cringing as she sound grew closer. She was going to be caught; she didn't doubt it in the least. Scott was going to get her caught by whoever the hell was creeping around out here & if she was killed, rest assured she would be haunting the hell out of the true alpha. "While you're trying to become the wolfcop of Beacon Hills, I'm out here doing some actual good & trying to find my brother— you know, the one everyone refuses to believe is actually missing."

"Rachel, look— we think she's a werecoyote, okay? A girl trapped in the body of a coyote, we just need to turn her back." Scott attempted to explain the situation to her as quickly as possible before she interrupted again.

"Okay, then turn her back? You're an alpha, dumbass."

"I can't." Scott sighed, recalling his struggles since the surrogate sacrifice; the darkness around his heart was blurring the thin line between werewolf & monster beyond recognition. "You can come back, you know how—"

"I'm not coming back without Derek, so you can forget that." She huffed, shifting her weight slowly as pain shot up her leg— Rachel had lost track of how long she'd been standing there, listening & waiting for the person to go away, but it wasn't working all that well. They knew she was there, and they were waiting; it was only a matter of time before they moved in. "Go ask Deaton, figure something out."

"I—" Scott began to protest, but Rachel ended the call before he could continue.

She shut her phone off, tucking it back into her pocket as she heard the footsteps near, a chill running down her spine as she heard the sound of the safety being removed from a gun behind her head.

"Why are you following me?" A female voice asked. Rachel was hesitant to spin around & face her, but when she finally mustered up the courage she found that the voice belonged to a girl not that much older than her— around Derek's age. She had light brown skin & jet black hair, but her most noticeable feature were the large scars running down her face & neck. Claw marks.

"Why are you out here?" Rachel countered. Hunting werewolves, undoubtedly. Everything about her screamed hunter, from the scars on her face to the hunting rifle in her hands & the stone cold look in her eyes.

"I asked you first." The girl snapped.

After a moment of hesitation, Rachel sighed & gave the shortest answer she could manage. She was tempted to lie, but something told her the girl wouldn't buy it— she wasn't anything supernatural as far as Rachel could tell, but this certainly wasn't her first day. "I'm not following you. I'm looking for someone. You?"

"I'm looking for someone too." She replied in a monotone, not giving anything away. She was still holding her gun up, aimed at Rachel; leading the reflector to believe she knew of her supernatural status. Either that, or she was just crazy. Both were equal possibilities; Beacon Hills had an alarming amount of lunatics.

"Wouldn't happen to be a werewolf, would it?" Rachel shrugged; she saw no point in tiptoeing around the metaphorical elephant in the woods. The girl gave her an odd look, prompting Rachel to clarify. "Not 'cause of the scars on your face, you could spend your Sundays cage wrestling bears for all I know. I just don't see any other reason someone would need a gun like that in Beacon Hills. Deer hunting isn't legal for another month."

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