Chapter 6: The Feral Friend and the Pheromone
The air in the Sheriff's office smelled of stale coffee, old paper, and a faint, lingering scent of desperation that wasn't entirely from the people, but from the building itself. It was the smell of a small town that had been stretched thin by its own secrets. The map on Sheriff Stilinski's wall, usually a mess of red pins and string, now had a new cluster of pins deep in the woods. The pins, a vibrant, almost cartoonish red, marked the locations of a series of bizarre disappearances.
"It's a werecoyote," Stiles said, his voice a frantic, high-pitched squeak. "A werecoyote, a girl who's been a coyote for years. Her name is Malia. She disappeared with her family. We need to find her."
Sheriff Stilinski, a man who had seen it all, looked at us with a weary, knowing look. He was used to Stiles's frantic monologues, but the mention of a "werecoyote" was still a new one. "Stiles, you and your little posse have a habit of finding trouble, but this... a girl who turned into a coyote? Are you sure you're not getting your myths mixed up with your migraines?"
"Trust me, Dad," Stiles said, his voice dropping to a serious, low tone. "We've been through this before. Remember the time we found a werewolf in your son's bedroom? Remember the time we were chased by a serial killer who was also a serial arsonist? Remember the time we-"
"I remember," the Sheriff said, cutting him off with a sigh. "I remember a lot of things. And I also remember that you and your friends have a habit of getting yourselves into a lot of danger. So, what's the plan?"
Adam's internal monologue was a frantic jumble of movie references and video game tropes. "Okay, this is it. The 'hunt' mission. The 'find the lost companion' side quest. The party is assembled, the objective is clear, and the skeptical NPC is on our side. Now we just need to get in there, get the girl, and get out before the big bad wolf, or, you know, the actual big bad wolf, shows up. This is a classic 'first act' of a fantasy RPG. I'm just the sidekick with the weird tracking ability."
[ 'INSIGHT' PHEROMONE ACTIVATED. ]
The System's notification was a quiet hum in the back of my mind. The world, which had been a mess of smells and sounds, now resolved into a clear, concise map of emotional signatures. The Sheriff's signature was a tired, weary blue. Stiles's was a frantic, chaotic orange. Scott's was a warm, determined red. And deep in the woods, a single, lonely, terrified purple signature. Malia.
"The woods," I said, my voice a low, confident growl. "She's in the woods. She's... she's terrified. And she's alone."
The Sheriff, a man who had seen it all, looked at me with a new, a more calculating look. He had seen the way I had calmed Scott down, the way I had subtly manipulated situations. He knew I was more than just a sarcastic teenager. He knew I had a role to play.
We were in the woods, the air a cool, crisp scent of pine and wet earth. The trees were a thick, impenetrable wall of green, a labyrinth of branches and shadows. Scott, with his heightened senses, was sniffing the air like a bloodhound. Kira, with her Kitsune powers, was a quiet, almost ethereal presence, her senses on high alert. Stiles, a human with a baseball bat and a whole lot of sarcastic courage, was our lookout.
"I don't smell anything," Scott said, his voice a low growl. "Just... fear. A lot of fear."
"Yeah," Stiles said, a small, tiny, confident smile on his face. "That's probably me. My dad is going to kill me. And I'm pretty sure he's going to find the werecoyote first."
"No," I said, my voice a low, calm whisper. "She's close. I can feel her. She's... she's a werecoyote. She's been a coyote for years. She's probably forgotten how to be human. She's probably forgotten what it's like to be... a person."
Suddenly, a shot rang out. A sharp, loud crack that echoed through the woods. We froze. The air, which had been a calm, quiet place, was now thick with the scent of gunpowder and fear. The hunters. The ones who had been following us, the ones who had been tracking the werecoyote. They had found her first.
The chase was on. We ran, a frantic, chaotic blur of human and supernatural. We dodged bullets, we ducked under branches, we jumped over logs. The hunters, a group of armed, dangerous men, were hot on our heels. They were a threat. They were a danger. They were a problem.
And then, a growl. A low, guttural growl that was not from Scott. It was from a new, a more feral presence. It was Malia.
She was in her werecoyote form, a wild, untamed beast with glowing blue eyes and sharp, pointed teeth. She was a hurricane of muscle and fur, a force of nature that was tearing through the woods. She was a beautiful, terrifying thing, a monster that had been trapped for years.
"Malia!" Scott yelled, his voice a loud, confident roar. "Malia, it's us! We're here to help you!"
She didn't listen. She was feral. She was a wild animal. She was a monster that had been trapped for years. And she was a threat. To us. To them. To herself.
"I need to use it," I said, my voice a low, frantic whisper. "I need to use my Pheromone. I need to calm her down."
[ 'RECRUITMENT' MISSION UPDATED: CALM MALIA TATE. ]
The System, my ever-present digital co-pilot, was basically saying, "You won. Now go find the girl who can save the world."
The chase was on. We ran, a frantic, chaotic blur of human and supernatural. We dodged bullets, we ducked under branches, we jumped over logs. The hunters, a group of armed, dangerous men, were hot on our heels. They were a threat. They were a danger. They were a problem.
And then, a growl. A low, guttural growl that was not from Scott. It was from a new, a more feral presence. It was Malia.
She was in her werecoyote form, a wild, untamed beast with glowing blue eyes and sharp, pointed teeth. She was a hurricane of muscle and fur, a force of nature that was tearing through the woods. She was a beautiful, terrifying thing, a monster that had been trapped for years.
"Malia!" Scott yelled, his voice a loud, confident roar. "Malia, it's us! We're here to help you!"
She didn't listen. She was feral. She was a wild animal. She was a monster that had been trapped for years. And she was a threat. To us. To them. To herself.
"I need to use it," I said, my voice a low, frantic whisper. "I need to use my Pheromone. I need to calm her down."