Several police cars quickly arrived on the scene, their lights flashing ominously in the encroaching darkness. Sheriff Stilinski stepped out of his car, his expression a mixture of concern and determination. He approached Charlotte and Adrian, offering them warm blankets to stave off the chill of the unusually cold California evening. The shock of their discovery and the dropping temperatures had left them both on the verge of hypothermia.

As they gave their statements, a tall female deputy with a triangular face and eyes hidden behind large glasses handed them cups of steaming tea. They watched as more units arrived, including those with tracking dogs, to scour the area for the other half of the body.

Charlotte and Adrian were recounting their story for what felt like the third time when a commotion broke out nearby.

"Hold on, hold on, this little delinquent belongs to me," Sheriff Stilinski called out, striding towards the disturbance. A teenage boy was squirming under his stern gaze. "Do you listen in on all my phone calls?"

"No... not the boring ones," the boy replied, a cheeky grin playing on his lips.

The female deputy giggled into her sleeve, shaking her head in amusement.

"And where is your usual partner in crime?" the sheriff asked, scanning the woods with a look that suggested he expected another troublemaker to emerge at any moment.

"Who? Scott? He's home. Said he wanted to get a good night's sleep for the first day back at school," the boy answered, a bit too nonchalantly.

The sheriff clearly didn't believe him, shining his flashlight into the nearby bushes. "Scott?! Are you there?!"

When no one responded, he turned back to his son, suspicion still clouding his features. "Alright, young man, I'm taking you back to your car and we're going to discuss a little something called invasion of privacy."

Grabbing the boy by the collar, Sheriff Stilinski led him away, leaving Charlotte and Adrian to exchange bemused glances.

"He's the sheriff's son, Stiles," Adrian explained, sighing. "He's always getting involved in some scheme. Smart, but tragically hyperactive. He could definitely use more discipline."

"Adrian, you're exaggerating," the female deputy interjected. She looked younger than Adrian, with a faint resemblance that suggested they might be siblings. "Stiles has always been like that. He gets good grades, so don't be too hard on him."

Charlotte didn't know whether to admire the boy for his courage or pity him for his recklessness as she listened to his banter with his father, his tone void of any real animosity.

The deputy, who introduced herself as Diana Harris, confirming Charlotte's suspicions about her relation to Adrian, offered her a ride home. Just then, a wolf's howl echoed through the woods. It was a sound only Charlotte seemed to hear, but it sent a shiver down her spine. She knew it wasn't just a wolf. It was a werewolf, announcing that it had expanded its pack. Someone had been bitten tonight, not far from where they stood.

She glanced at the teenager, hoping he hadn't lied about his friend being safe at home.

For a fleeting moment, Charlotte hoped it was Laura making her presence known. But logic reminded her that there were more werewolves in the area, and the state of the corpse suggested something much darker. She suspected hunters might be in Beacon Hills; the clean cut of the body was a telltale sign of their methods. They often adhered to a code, performing such acts to prevent regeneration.

She had to investigate further to understand what had triggered the hunters, who didn't kill without reason. At least, most of them didn't.

Beacon Hills had given her a truly unexpected welcome.

🌙

Scott sighed, exasperated, as he concealed himself behind the trees, hoping to avoid the sharp gaze of his friend's father. The sheriff's calls echoed through the dense woods, but Scott remained hidden, resolute in his decision to walk back rather than endure a lecture.

His eyes strained against the encroaching darkness, a formidable challenge without the guiding beam of Stiles' flashlight. As he reached a fork in the path, he paused, deliberating his options. The night air grew colder, prompting him to pull the zipper of his sweatshirt up to his chin. A rustling among the trees made him freeze. His breath quickened, more from fear than his asthma. He reached for his inhaler, only to hear a noise growing nearer.

Suddenly, half a dozen deer burst through the trees, fleeing in blind panic and ignoring Scott entirely. He dropped his inhaler, shielding his head. As the deer vanished into the night, he began searching the forest floor for his inhaler, using his phone's dim screen for light. His search halted abruptly when his eyes met another's—glassy, brown, lifeless eyes staring from the face of a young, half-naked woman lying before him. The initial shock gave way to horror as he realized this was what he and Stiles had been searching for—the upper half of the body the police were desperately trying to locate.

Terrified, Scott scrambled back but tripped over a protruding root, tumbling down a forested incline. Before he could rise, a low, throaty growl immobilized him. Something large was approaching, emerging slowly from the shadows. In a flash, he saw razor-sharp teeth, felt a searing pain in his side, and jumped back, screaming. He managed to separate himself from the attacking beast and fled, branches tearing at his clothes and skin. Suddenly, the dense forest ended, and he stumbled out onto a road.

A horn blared. Scott spun around as a red SUV sped towards him. The driver swerved, narrowly avoiding him but did not stop. Slowly recovering from the shock, Scott felt the sharp pain in his side once more. Lifting his sweatshirt, he discovered a bite mark just above his hip. His attention was abruptly diverted by a chilling sound—a wolf's howl piercing the silent night.

🌙

January 10th 2011 - Monday

Scott rode into the school parking lot on his bike, a lacrosse stick strapped to his backpack, the net meticulously woven and ready for the first practice of the year. As he locked his bike to the stand, his eyes roved the sea of students, searching in vain for a familiar face.

Next to him gleamed a brand-new, silver Porsche, its custom registration plate making the owner unmistakably clear. The car door swung open, striking Scott's back as he bent down. Emerging from the vehicle was a handsome, square-jawed teenager with a meticulously styled haircut, his face marred by an expression of smug superiority.

"Dude. Watch the paint job," he barked, his voice dripping with condescension, not bothering to acknowledge that it was he who had struck Scott. He retrieved his belongings from the car, which included the gear for Scott's cherished lacrosse game.

"Jackson!" A shout interrupted them, drawing Jackson's attention. A feigned smile spread across his face as he turned and walked towards his friends, who were gathered around even more expensive cars, all dressed in designer clothes. The group, composed of well-built boys and heavily made-up girls, radiating an aura of exclusivity.

Left alone, Scott cast a wistful glance at the group, painfully aware that he was miles away from being part of their elite circle.

Just as he was about to enter the school, Stiles caught up with him, breathless and animated, diving straight into the topic of their late-night phone conversation from when Scott had finally made it home after his adventure in the woods.

"All right, let's see this thing..."

Scott set his backpack aside, waiting until the last group of students hurried past as the first bell of the year had already rung. Carefully, he lifted his T-shirt to reveal a sizable bandage, soaked in blood, just above his right hip. Stiles recoiled at the sight, almost reflexively reaching out, but Scott quickly lowered his shirt to stop him.

"It was too dark to see much, but I'm pretty sure it was a wolf."

"A wolf bit you?" Stiles raised his eyebrows as they joined the throng of students heading inside. "No way," he scoffed, a mocking smile playing on his lips.

"I heard a wolf howling."

"No, you didn't."

"What do you mean, 'No, I didn't'?" Scott snapped, certain of what he heard.

"California doesn't have wolves. Not for the last sixty years."

"Really?" Scott quipped, "Well, if you don't believe me about the wolf, then you're definitely not going to believe me when I tell you I saw the body."

"You what? Are you kidding me?" Stiles nearly jumped, his face lighting up with excitement.

"I wish. I'm going to have nightmares about it for a month."

"That's freaking awesome. This is seriously the best thing that's happened to this town..." Stiles fell silent, his eyes widening as he spotted the girl walking towards them. "...since the birth of Lydia Martin who's walking toward us right now... Hey, Lydia, how are you? You look..." Lydia, dressed in the latest designer fashion and towering on high heels, breezed past them without a glance, her confidence reminiscent of a Milan runway model. Stiles's face fell, and Scott couldn't help but smile at his friend's frustration. "...like you're going to ignore me. You're the cause of this, you know?" Stiles turned to Scott. "Dragging me down to your nerd's depths. I'm a nerd by association. I've been Scarlet-nerded by you."

Scott laughed, knowing full well that Stiles was joking. Despite their differences, Stiles was the one obsessed with computer games, comic books, and maintaining better grades, despite his notorious lack of focus.