![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Peter sets her down and all she can think to do is run.
It’s what he told her to do. Run and hide and he would find her, but the sound of the other pack members screaming is ringing in her ears and that only seems to get louder the further she gets from the house. She knows that she’s doing as she’s told, listening to the adults and surviving rather than dying, but she can’t help but feel like she’s abandoning them – her family, her alpha - and that pain rips through her the further and further away she gets.
(She’s trying to be quiet, trying not to draw attention to herself, but there’s only so much she can do to keep the tears at bay. She’s scared and alone and not nearly strong enough to do this on her own, and she just hopes against hope that her uncle is going to come for her like he says he will.)
She keeps going, keeps running for as long as she can until she trips over a stray root and tumbles to the ground hard. It knocks the wind out of her, stilling her for a moment, and that moment is all it takes for the dam to break. She curls on her herself as she gasps for air, those gasps turning into silent, choked off sobs as she feels something break inside her, that connection to her alpha dissolving, and she knows at that second that her mother is dead.
She knows she needs to keep running, but at the moment, she can’t really bring herself to care.
It isn’t until she hears the chainsaw snap of a growl above her that she manages to stop, head snapping up and tear stained cheeks streaked with dirt. Standing over her is a coyote, clearly pissed that the girl is in its (her) territory unannounced and Cora can’t really blame her. She’d probably be pissed too. Her eyes flash gold in the dark, something that she isn’t sure is a threat or a white flag, but her breath catches when the coyote’s eyes glow in return.
Not gold, like hers, but blue.
Cora isn’t really sure what to make of it. Her mother always told her to be careful around wolves with blue eyes, but she never said anything about coyotes and she never said anything about situations like this, where she doesn’t know who else to trust. She starts to raise her hands slowly, trying to appease the coyote as best she can.
“I’m not here to hurt you,” she whispers, trying to keep her voice low. “I’m just trying to hide. From the hunters.”
The coyote’s ears flick, then her head picks up in the direction of footsteps coming their way. The head then, surges forward, and Cora’s arm comes up in order to protect her face, but her teeth gently take hold of the sleeve of Cora’s shirt, tugging on her arm and being careful not to break the skin – not that it would have mattered with the way Cora heals. She tugs hard on the girl’s arm, pulling her towards a break in the rocks before nudging her inside.
It doesn’t take much to realize that this place is her den. But littered among the usual coyote fare is a neon blue coat, not that different from the one Cora has - had - at home. The coyote watches the entrance for a moment, before making her way back and picking up the coat between her teeth. She then takes a few steps forward, draping the coat over her lap.
“Thank you.” The words are soft, and she hopes that the person inside the coyote can understand. The coyote’s eyes flash again, before she returns to the entrance and disappears out the front. For now, Cora wraps the coat around her, huddling into it and hoping that she won’t be found here.
Or, at least, not found by hunters.
***
Laura knows what happened before the police even call her.
She’s sitting in a late class at UCLA, trying to focus on lectures about abnormal psychology and behavioral disorders, when something surges inside of her, a bit of like being hit by a metaphysical truck. She barely manages to excuse herself before she’s slamming her notes closed and stumbling into the bathroom, doing her best to try and keep her feet if she can. She’s lucky it’s late – there’s no one else around, because no one else is insane enough to have class that late – so when she looks in the mirror there’s no one to see her eyes glowing a bright, burning red.
Or hear the sharp, heartbroken noise she makes when she sees it.
It’s a bit of a dizzying thing, not to have to hear it from someone else and to just simply know without question that somewhere, somehow, your mother is dead. There’s nothing you can do to stop it, and now you have to carry your family, whatever’s left of it, and hope that you are half the alpha she was. There’s a part of her that screams she isn’t ready, that this is too soon and too much all at once, but before she can even process that bit of information, her phone is ringing.
There was a fire at the Hale House.
Her family is dead.
She needs to come claim her brother.
Somehow she manages to get through the conversation enough to say that yes, she will be there in a few hours. She has to drive back from school. No, there’s no need to have him put somewhere for the night, she’ll be there as soon as she can. And once she’s hung up, she at least manages to stumble into one of the stalls before the grief that cuts through her makes her sick, but that one moment of weakness is all she can allow herself right now.
Once that’s over, the only thing that matters is getting to Derek.
It takes her about two hours to get to the sheriff’s station. Derek is sequestered in the sheriff’s office, waiting for her to claim him, but the deputy there – Stilinski, according to the nameplate – pulls her off to the side for a moment to cover a few things. They ask her if there’s anyone missing that they should be looking for, gives her a list of bodies that they managed to identify, and each name on the list makes her sick to her stomach again. She goes through the motions, and it isn’t until they ask her if she has any questions that she manages to find her words.
“Did anyone survive?”
The deputy pauses for a moment, watching her carefully, before nodding. “We found your uncle. He was taken to Beacon Hills Memorial with severe burns. The paramedics are surprised he managed to make it that far out of the house, but they don’t think his odds are good. I can take Derek and you over there if you like.”
She shakes her head quickly. Peter can wait until morning. There’s one other item she wants to look into and Peter can wait. He’s a survivor. He’s always been a survivor.
“I’d like to see my brother now, please.”
He nods, and goes to show her to the room. She takes a deep breath, before opening the door and bracing herself for the worst. This isn’t going to be easy – but right now, she and Derek are all they have left.
It’s what he told her to do. Run and hide and he would find her, but the sound of the other pack members screaming is ringing in her ears and that only seems to get louder the further she gets from the house. She knows that she’s doing as she’s told, listening to the adults and surviving rather than dying, but she can’t help but feel like she’s abandoning them – her family, her alpha - and that pain rips through her the further and further away she gets.
(She’s trying to be quiet, trying not to draw attention to herself, but there’s only so much she can do to keep the tears at bay. She’s scared and alone and not nearly strong enough to do this on her own, and she just hopes against hope that her uncle is going to come for her like he says he will.)
She keeps going, keeps running for as long as she can until she trips over a stray root and tumbles to the ground hard. It knocks the wind out of her, stilling her for a moment, and that moment is all it takes for the dam to break. She curls on her herself as she gasps for air, those gasps turning into silent, choked off sobs as she feels something break inside her, that connection to her alpha dissolving, and she knows at that second that her mother is dead.
She knows she needs to keep running, but at the moment, she can’t really bring herself to care.
It isn’t until she hears the chainsaw snap of a growl above her that she manages to stop, head snapping up and tear stained cheeks streaked with dirt. Standing over her is a coyote, clearly pissed that the girl is in its (her) territory unannounced and Cora can’t really blame her. She’d probably be pissed too. Her eyes flash gold in the dark, something that she isn’t sure is a threat or a white flag, but her breath catches when the coyote’s eyes glow in return.
Not gold, like hers, but blue.
Cora isn’t really sure what to make of it. Her mother always told her to be careful around wolves with blue eyes, but she never said anything about coyotes and she never said anything about situations like this, where she doesn’t know who else to trust. She starts to raise her hands slowly, trying to appease the coyote as best she can.
“I’m not here to hurt you,” she whispers, trying to keep her voice low. “I’m just trying to hide. From the hunters.”
The coyote’s ears flick, then her head picks up in the direction of footsteps coming their way. The head then, surges forward, and Cora’s arm comes up in order to protect her face, but her teeth gently take hold of the sleeve of Cora’s shirt, tugging on her arm and being careful not to break the skin – not that it would have mattered with the way Cora heals. She tugs hard on the girl’s arm, pulling her towards a break in the rocks before nudging her inside.
It doesn’t take much to realize that this place is her den. But littered among the usual coyote fare is a neon blue coat, not that different from the one Cora has - had - at home. The coyote watches the entrance for a moment, before making her way back and picking up the coat between her teeth. She then takes a few steps forward, draping the coat over her lap.
“Thank you.” The words are soft, and she hopes that the person inside the coyote can understand. The coyote’s eyes flash again, before she returns to the entrance and disappears out the front. For now, Cora wraps the coat around her, huddling into it and hoping that she won’t be found here.
Or, at least, not found by hunters.
***
Laura knows what happened before the police even call her.
She’s sitting in a late class at UCLA, trying to focus on lectures about abnormal psychology and behavioral disorders, when something surges inside of her, a bit of like being hit by a metaphysical truck. She barely manages to excuse herself before she’s slamming her notes closed and stumbling into the bathroom, doing her best to try and keep her feet if she can. She’s lucky it’s late – there’s no one else around, because no one else is insane enough to have class that late – so when she looks in the mirror there’s no one to see her eyes glowing a bright, burning red.
Or hear the sharp, heartbroken noise she makes when she sees it.
It’s a bit of a dizzying thing, not to have to hear it from someone else and to just simply know without question that somewhere, somehow, your mother is dead. There’s nothing you can do to stop it, and now you have to carry your family, whatever’s left of it, and hope that you are half the alpha she was. There’s a part of her that screams she isn’t ready, that this is too soon and too much all at once, but before she can even process that bit of information, her phone is ringing.
There was a fire at the Hale House.
Her family is dead.
She needs to come claim her brother.
Somehow she manages to get through the conversation enough to say that yes, she will be there in a few hours. She has to drive back from school. No, there’s no need to have him put somewhere for the night, she’ll be there as soon as she can. And once she’s hung up, she at least manages to stumble into one of the stalls before the grief that cuts through her makes her sick, but that one moment of weakness is all she can allow herself right now.
Once that’s over, the only thing that matters is getting to Derek.
It takes her about two hours to get to the sheriff’s station. Derek is sequestered in the sheriff’s office, waiting for her to claim him, but the deputy there – Stilinski, according to the nameplate – pulls her off to the side for a moment to cover a few things. They ask her if there’s anyone missing that they should be looking for, gives her a list of bodies that they managed to identify, and each name on the list makes her sick to her stomach again. She goes through the motions, and it isn’t until they ask her if she has any questions that she manages to find her words.
“Did anyone survive?”
The deputy pauses for a moment, watching her carefully, before nodding. “We found your uncle. He was taken to Beacon Hills Memorial with severe burns. The paramedics are surprised he managed to make it that far out of the house, but they don’t think his odds are good. I can take Derek and you over there if you like.”
She shakes her head quickly. Peter can wait until morning. There’s one other item she wants to look into and Peter can wait. He’s a survivor. He’s always been a survivor.
“I’d like to see my brother now, please.”
He nods, and goes to show her to the room. She takes a deep breath, before opening the door and bracing herself for the worst. This isn’t going to be easy – but right now, she and Derek are all they have left.
