It had been over two weeks since Scott and Allison's first date, and now they were officially a couple. The days passed in a blur, Scott felt a sense of normalcy creeping into his life, despite the chaos swirling beneath the surface.
Stiles was sprawled out on Scott's couch, lazily flipping through channels on the TV while Scott leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping on a soda. The lazy Sunday morning stretched ahead of them, and the boredom was already creeping in.
"Yo, dude. What are we doing today?" Stiles asked, his voice loud as he abandoned the remote and turned to face Scott, a hint of anticipation in his eyes.
Scott smirked, the gears in his mind already turning. "I was thinking... we head out to the woods. Maybe we'll find something strange, like that ghoul we ran into the other night."
Stiles perked up, then immediately widened his eyes in mock horror. "Yeah, sounds like a brilliant idea. But you have to protect me! I mean, last time, it was a ghoul. What if we find something freakier?"
Scott raised an eyebrow. Stiles sat up on the couch and gave Scott a ridiculous puppy-eyes look.
Scott shuddered in disgust. "Don't you ever give me that look again," he said, shaking his head as he tossed a pillow at Stiles. "That's creepy, dude."
Stiles chuckled, rubbing the back of his head where the pillow had landed. "Hey, man, you can't blame a guy for trying to pull some sympathy points. Besides, I am delicate, you know."
Scott chuckled, rolling his eyes as he walked over to grab his jacket. "Yeah, yeah. Let's go."
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A short while later, the two of them hopped into Stiles' old Jeep and drove toward the Beacon Hills Preserve. The familiar trees and winding paths of the reserve passed by them as they went deeper into the woods, the sunlight dappling the ground beneath them. As the wind whipped through the open windows of the Jeep, Scott felt the tension in his body ease. The woods had always given him a sense of peace, though now it was tinged with an ever-present awareness of the lurking danger.
They parked the Jeep and started walking through the forest, the crunch of leaves beneath their feet filling the air as they ventured further in.
"Okay, so where are the monsters?" Stiles asked, looking around as if one might jump out from behind a tree at any moment.
Scott smirked. "Patience. These things don't just show up on cue, you know."
They walked for a few more minutes before a figure emerged from between the trees. It was Derek, his usual brooding expression plastered across his face. The man seemed to have a radar for when Scott and Stiles were about to get into trouble.
"You're out here again," Derek said, his tone flat but carrying an edge of curiosity.
Scott shrugged. "Just getting some air. Maybe trying to find some weird creatures while we're at it."
Derek's eyes narrowed, and he folded his arms. "You're still looking for the Alpha, aren't you?"
Scott knew he had to play dumb. Sure, he already knew who the Alpha was and where to find him, but what fun was there in spoiling the surprise? He grinned mischievously. "We've had a run-in with him, actually. He came to my house a few weeks ago. Didn't do anything, just… watched."
Derek's gaze hardened. "The Alpha wants to control you, Scott."
But Scott just shook his head, his grin never fading. "He can try. But don't worry. He can't control me."
Before Derek could respond, there was the faint sound of footsteps in the distance. Derek's ears perked up, and his expression darkened.
"Hunters," he muttered. "Run."
Scott chuckled, waving off Derek's concern. "You run. They don't know I'm a werewolf. I'm not going anywhere."
Derek hesitated, but there was no persuading Scott. The older werewolf shot one last look before disappearing into the woods.
Stiles watched him go, then turned to Scott, his eyebrows raised. "So, what's the plan, fearless leader?"
Scott was about to respond when a group of armed men emerged from the trees. Chris Argent led them, his eyes scanning the area until they landed on Scott and Stiles. Eight hunters in total, armed with rifles, bows, and a variety of other weapons, spread out behind him.
Chris narrowed his eyes. "What are you doing out here, Scott?"
Scott gave him a wide, innocent grin. "Hey, Uncle Chris. Me and Stiles are just out for a stroll, you know. Enjoying nature."
Chris' expression didn't soften. His voice dropped, taking on a more serious tone. "Tell me the truth, Scott. Why are you here?"
Scott shot a mischievous look at Stiles. He knew Chris hated being called "uncle" by him, but that only made Scott double down. "Fine, Uncle Chris. You want the truth?"
Chris glared, already annoyed. "Don't call me 'uncle.' Call me Mr. Argent."
Scott shrugged, not the least bit intimidated. "Alright, Uncle Chris," he said with emphasis, "the truth is, we're here looking for something... strange."
Chris' gaze hardened, but Scott wasn't finished.
"You remember that dead body the sheriff found in the woods a while back? Well, me and Stiles came out to watch the fun that night. But while we were leaving, we saw something in the woods."
Chris' interest piqued, and he leaned in slightly. "What did you see?"
Scott paused, pretending to hesitate. He glanced at Stiles, who picked up the act.
"Don't... don't tell them," Stiles stammered dramatically, clutching Scott's arm. "They'll never believe you!"
Chris glared at Stiles, then motioned for Scott to continue. "Go on. What did you see?"
Scott took a breath. "We saw... a monster. It looked like a bear, but it wasn't really a bear."
Chris frowned. "What did it look like?"
"It was black," Scott said, his voice low as if recalling a terrifying memory. "Big. At least two meters tall. And it had glowing red eyes."
The hunters exchanged glances. Chris' eyes narrowed. "You're sure it wasn't a bear?"
Before Scott could answer, Stiles jumped in, his voice dripping with dramatic flair. "It wasn't a bear, Mr. Argent! It howled... like a wolf!"
"Uncle Chris," Scott said, his tone serious, "we think it's... Bigfoot."
There was a moment of stunned silence before Chris and the other hunters burst into laughter. The sound echoed through the trees, the tension broken for a moment. Scott, undeterred, kept up the act.
"We're here to get a picture of it," Scott said, his face deadpan. "We're going to prove to the world that Bigfoot exists."
Chris wiped tears of laughter from his eyes. "You didn't tell Allison about this, did you?"
Scott grinned and shook his head. "I'm not stupid. I don't want her to think I'm crazy and dump me."
Chris chuckled, but Scott wasn't done. He leaned in with a smug smile. "I think Allison is the one, Uncle Chris. You're going to be my father-in-law someday. And me and Allison? We're going to give you lots of grandkids."
The hunters snickered, but Chris' laughter stopped immediately. His face turned red, and his hands clenched into fists. "You little punk…"
But before Chris could finish his threat, a deafening squeal tore through the woods. Only, it wasn't just a squeal—it was a roar. The ground seemed to shake beneath their feet as something massive charged through the trees.
A colossal wild boar, bigger than a horse, burst into view. Its tusks gleamed like daggers, its eyes glowing red with an unnatural hunger. Its thick, muscular body rippled with strength, and its mouth was filled with sharp, jagged teeth that dripped with saliva.
Scott's instincts flared. He wanted to fight it—needed to fight it—but with Chris and the hunters here, he didn't want to expose himself, not yet at least. He grabbed Stiles by the arm and yanked him to the side, pulling him to safety.
They watched as the hunters prepared for battle, weapons at the ready. Chris barked orders, his face grim as the massive beast charged at them, its hooves pounding the earth.
Scott and Stiles ducked behind a tree, watching the scene unfold. Scott's eyes narrowed, his body tense, ready to jump in to save Chris if things went south.
As the boar barreled toward them, Scott whispered under his breath, "Let's see what you've got, Uncle Chris."
The battle was about to begin.
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