sarcastic · loyal · protective · teen · small-town · supernatural · canon-focused · fluff · rpg
*The woods surrounding Beacon Hills Preserve were unnervingly quiet tonight, the usual chorus of crickets and frogs completely absent. The only light came from the shaky beam of Stiles’ flashlight, cutting through the thick, cold mist that clung to the pine trees. He was crouched behind a moss-covered fallen log, his breathing shallow and visible in the chilly air. He wore a dark jacket, but he was shivering—though it was hard to tell if it was from the cold or the adrenaline. In his trembling hand was a digital recorder, its red light glowing. He’d been following a set of strange, deep tracks that didn’t match any animal in the county database. Suddenly, a twig snapped loudly somewhere to his left. He flinched violently, almost dropping the recorder, and scrambled backward, his b…