Capítulo 5: The Woods are Safe
The man in the leather jacket vanished into the trees like smoke, leaving behind a silence thick with unease. Vale's hands still trembled, not from fear but the raw adrenaline that lingered in his veins like a live wire. The translucent gray screen flickered at the edge of his vision, stubborn and unyielding:
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
Valentine Aedan Feilan
Alias: 'Vale'
Status: Agitated, Injured (Minor)
Nature: Adaptive
Strength: 15
Mind: 3.2
Willpower: 4.0
Magical Affinity: 3.1
Bloodline: ??/??
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Adaptive. The word had followed Vale like a shadow his whole life. After the fire, social workers praised how he'd "adapted" to foster care. Teachers marveled at how he "adjusted" to new schools. But this—the screen, the creature, the unnatural strength—wasn't adaptation. It was upheaval.
Stiles broke the silence first, pacing in tight circles like a caged animal. "Okay, let's recap: We've got a demon rabbit, a red-eyed nightmare dog, and a guy who dresses like he's auditioning for *Vampire Diaries*. Anyone else feel like we're stuck in a bad B-movie?"
Scott crouched beside the dead rabbit, his fingers hovering over its matted fur. "What did he mean, 'diffrent'? Diffrent how?"
Vale flexed his hands, the memory of the creature's neck under his grip still vivid. "Nothing good. Stay out of the woods. Both of you." He turned to leave, but Stiles blocked his path.
"Whoa, whoa—you're just gonna bail? You owe us answers, Superman!"
"I don't owe you anything," Vale snapped, sharper than he intended. Scott flinched, and Vale softened his tone. "Whatever that thing was, it's after *me*. The more you stay away, the safer you'll be."
He walked off, Stiles' indignant squawks fading behind him. The screen's Strength: 15 pulsed mockingly.
---
It was already evening, the Camaro's engine lay disassembled on the workbench, a puzzle of greased metal and frayed wires. Vale ran a cloth over the carburetor, the rhythmic motion grounding him. This, at least, made sense. Engines didn't lie. They didn't flicker with cryptic screens or vanish into shadows.
He gripped a steel wrench, its weight familiar in his palm. Strength: 15. On impulse, he bent it. The metal groaned, folding like tinfoil.
"Huh."
No strain. No flicker on the screen, just a bent wrench.
Marie's voice cut through the garage. "Vale! Dinner's getting cold!"
He tossed the wrench aside. "Coming!"
At the door, he paused. The woods loomed beyond the fence, dark and watchful.
---
Stiles' laptop glowed like a beacon in the dark, police scanner chatter spilling from its speakers.
(Police over scanner): *"All units, converge on the north ridge. Possible animal attack."*
"Animal attack. Right," Stiles muttered, shoving a backpack full of flashlights, a first-aid kit, and half a bag of Cheetos at Scott. "We're going back."
Scott paled. "Are you insane? After what happened—"
"That's why we're going! To prove we're not hallucinating! And if we find another… thing…"
"Then what? We ask it to pose for a selfie?"
Stiles grinned, all teeth. "Then we run like hell."
Moonlight bled through the trees, painting the forest in jagged silver. Scott's sneakers crunched over dead leaves, the sound too loud in the suffocating quiet. Stiles' flashlight beam danced ahead, a frail shield against the dark.
"There." Stiles pointed to a strip of police tape snagged on a thornbush. "That's where they found the… uh… parts."
Scott's throat tightened. "This is a bad idea."
"Yeah, well, bad ideas built Rome."
A twig snapped.
They froze.
"Did you hear that?" Scott whispered.
Stiles' flashlight trembled. "Hear what?"
Lights suddenly lit up over on the road a distance away, the cops showing up for a thorough search of the area.
"Run!"
They bolted, branches clawing at their clothes. Stiles veered left, Scott right—a split-second decision that unraveled everything.
Stiles skidded into a clearing, lungs burning, and collided with a wall of khaki.
"Stiles?" Sheriff Stilinski's flashlight blinded him. "What the hell are you doing out here?"
"Dad! I, uh… lost my keys! Birdwatching!"
"Birdwatching. At midnight."
"Nocturnal birds! They're a thing!"
The sheriff pinched the bridge of his nose. "Get in the cruiser. *Now.*"
Stiles glanced desperately into the trees where Scott had vanished. "But—"
"Now, Stiles."
---
Scott stumbled into a gully, the flashlight long lost. His breath came in ragged gasps, each one echoing too loud in the silence. Moonlight glinted off something pale in the dirt—a human hand, fingers curled like claws.
"Oh god—"
A growl.
He turned.
Glowing red eyes hovered in the dark, low to the ground. The creature emerged—wolf-like but *wrong*, its fur patchy, its muzzle twisted into a snarl.
"Stiles!" Scott's voice cracked.
The creature lunged.
Teeth sank into his side.
Pain erupted, white-hot and consuming. He screamed, the sound swallowed by the forest.
Blackness.
Vale stood at his bedroom window, the woods a dark wall on the horizon. The screen flickered:
**Status: Restless, Inquisitive**
He'd always adapted. After the fire, he'd learned to cook, to fix engines, to patch holes in drywall. But this—this defied logic.
A shriek tore through the night, distant and raw. Vale's head snapped up. *Scott?*
He grabbed a flashlight and ran.
Scott woke to damp earth and the metallic tang of blood. His side throbbed, a massive red bite with blood dripping out from the large punctures covering his side.
"What the…?"
A twig snapped. He spun, heart racing.
"Scott!" Vale crashed through the brush, sprinting full-tilt towards him
"It attacked me!" Scott shouted out as soon as he saw Vale, "It got me real bad too."
"Are you bleeding badly? You need medical attention! Did it leave! Is it still here?"
"I.. I think it left..maybe help me before we get to the questions though?"
Vale quickly went over to Scott, slipping his arm under his shoulders and helping him up.
"Just wait a minute well be at the hospital in no time!" Vale said starting to walk in the direction of the road.
"No, no hospital.." Scott spoke through ragged breaths "My Mom works there, I don't want to risk it following us!"
"Ah so you want to die to rabies or something then?" Vale asked staring at Scott in disbelief for a moment.
"Ju-ju-just listen to me! Please, I know where we can go."
"Fine. But for the record this very dumb idea was all yours, Scott."
REFLEXIONES DE LOS CREADORES 
TheWakingDemon
TheWakingDemon I'll drop a chapter later tonight, swamped with work rn.
Be sure to vote to feed my ever-starving ego! hehehe.
Capítulo 6: Simp’le Patch Job
Rain lashed the Beacon Hills Animal Clinic, turning the parking lot into a murky swamp. Scott fumbled with his keys, hands trembling as he unlocked the back door. Vale hovered behind him, shoulders tense, eyes scanning the storm.
"Dr. Deaton's out of town," Scott muttered, flicking on the lights. The sterile white walls and stainless steel exam tables glinted under the fluorescents. "I'm just here to feed the dogs tonight."
"And bleed all over the floor?" Vale nodded at Scott's side, where blood soaked through his hoodie.
"Shut up."
Vale shoved him toward an exam table. "Shirt off. Now."
Scott obeyed, wincing as he peeled the fabric away from the jagged bite. Vale rummaged through cabinets, tossing gauze, antiseptic, and a suture kit onto a tray.
"You ever done this before?" Scott asked, eyeing the needle.
"Enough times." Vale doused a cloth in antiseptic. "Hold still."
Scott hissed as Vale cleaned the wound, the clinic's silence broken only by the drumming rain and the occasional whine from the kennels. The bite was deep—four punctures, the flesh around them already bruising.
"This wasn't a dog," Vale said quietly.
"I know."
"Then stop lying to yourself."
Vale worked methodically, stitching the torn flesh with steady hands. Scott gritted his teeth, sweat beading on his forehead. When it was done, Vale tossed the bloody gauze into a biohazard bin and handed Scott a clean shirt from Deaton's lost-and-found.
"Burn that hoodie," Vale said.
Scott nodded, pulling the shirt on. "Thanks."
Outside, thunder growled.
Vale froze mid-step, nostrils flaring. Beneath the storm's rumbling, something else—a low, guttural snarl vibrating through the rain.
"What?" Scott tensed.
"Stay here." Vale grabbed a flashlight from the counter. "Lock the door."
"Vale, don't—"
But Vale was already gone, the door slamming shut behind him.
Rain needled Vale's face as he circled the clinic, flashlight beam slicing through the dark. The snarl had come from the tree line, but now there was only the hiss of wind and the creak of soaked branches.
He crouched, fingertips brushing the mud. Claw marks—deep, uneven, *massive*—led toward the woods.
*Not wolf. Not bear. Something… wrong.*
The scent here was overwhelming: iron, rot, and beneath it, the sharp tang of something sour and sweet.
Vale stood, staring into the black. The gray screen flickered:
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
Valentine Aedan Feilan
Alias: 'Vale'
Status: Aggressive, Territorial
Strength: 15
Mind: 3.2
Magical Affinity: 3.1
Bloodline: ??/??
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
*I really gotta adress how wierdly specific my nose is smelling things…*
A twig snapped.
Vale spun around to a deeper part of the forest.
Glowing red eyes blinked in the distance—then vanished.
---
Headlights cut through the rain as a black SUV skidded into the clinic's parking lot. Allison Argent clutched the steering wheel, her knuckles white. A small, shivering dog whimpered in the passenger seat, its fur matted with mud and blood.
"It's okay," she whispered, more to herself than the dog. "It's okay, it's okay—"
She grabbed the dog and bolted for the clinic, rain soaking through her leather jacket. The door was unlocked.
"Hello?!" she called, stumbling inside. "Is anyone here?!"
Scott froze mid-step, a bag of dog food in his hands. "Allison?!"
"Scott?!" Her eyes widened. "What are you—?"
"I work here! Part-time!" He gestured to the kennels, where a dozen dogs barked at the storm. "Feeding the dogs. What… what happened?"
Allison held up the shivering animal. "I—I hit him. I didn't see him in the rain. Is Dr. Deaton here?"
"No, but I can help." Scott took the dog gently, his hands steady now. "Let's get him warmed up."
Scott laid the dog on the exam table, its whines softening as Allison stroked its head.
"You're okay," she murmured. "You're okay."
Scott grabbed a towel from a shelf, handing it to her. "For you. You're soaked."
Allison blinked, rainwater dripping from her curls. "Thanks."
She dabbed her face, watching as Scott checked the dog's leg. His hands moved with surprising confidence, cleaning the wound and wrapping it in a bandage.
"You're good at this," she said softly.
"Three years of cleaning kennels." He shrugged. "You learn things."
"No, I mean… you're calm. Like you've done this forever."
Scott's ears burned. "I… I like animals. They're easier than people."
Allison smiled, tucking a damp curl behind her ear. "Same."
Outside, thunder cracked. The lights flickered.
"You should get out of that jacket," Scott said suddenly. "Before you catch a cold."
Allison hesitated, then peeled off her soaked leather jacket. Scott handed her an oversized clinic hoodie with "Beacon Hills Animal Rescue" printed across the chest.
"Fashionable," she teased, pulling it on.
Scott grinned. "You're welcome."
The dog nuzzled Allison's hand, its tail thumping weakly.
"He'll be okay," Scott said. "Just needs rest."
Allison's smile faltered. "Thanks. For not… judging me."
"For hitting a dog in a storm? Not your fault."
Their eyes met. The clinic's hum faded to silence.
Vale slipped back into the clinic, soaked and scowling. Scott and Allison jumped apart, the moment shattered.
"Who's this?" Vale asked, dripping rainwater onto the tiles.
"Allison. She, uh… hit a dog." Scott gestured to the sleeping animal.
Vale raised an eyebrow. "And you're giving her fashion advice?"
Allison flushed, tugging the oversized hoodie tighter. "I should go. Thank you, Scott. For everything."
"Wait—the storm's still bad. Let me drive you."
"I'm okay. Really." She scooped up her damp jacket and hurried out, the door swinging shut behind her.
Scott stared after her, the clinic suddenly too quiet.
"You're staring," Vale said.
"Shut up."
Deep in the preserve, the beast paced, rain sliding off its matted fur. The boy's scent—*weak, bitten*—drifted through the storm. But the other one…
The one who'd fought back.
His scent was foreign. Thick with pine resin and iron-rich blood, like the heart of a forest. Not wolf. Not coyote. Something the alpha had never encountered.
*Dangerous.*
But intriguing.
The beast snarled once, low and warning, before melting into the trees.
Vale drove Scott home in silence, the Camaro's wipers fighting the deluge. Scott stared at his reflection in the window, the bite already fading to a scar.
"What happens now?" he asked quietly.
Vale tightened his grip on the wheel. "You tell me."
The storm raged on
REFLEXIONES DE LOS CREADORES
TheWakingDemon
TheWakingDemon
Simp’le get it? Cus he be swooning like crazy over Allie… it's super funny now laugh. also since I am not really a romance guy I will probably stick him with the resident banshee cus I like how smart she is.
I might also start another book that uploads maybe one a week, just to prove a point to my partner about easy it would be to write Smut Books and dragon dingalings. Call it something silly like :Of Glass and Schlongs
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