The Bones of You

Two days ago, Stiles was attacked in the parking lot of the school after practice. As usual he wasn't paying attention. It was a moonless night and dark as ink. He was running late and it caught him just inches away from his car. The bruises on cheek and his side didn't tell me much. All he could say was it was fast but there was something stuck on his coat. A small tuft of fur stuck in the zipper of his jacket was all we had to go on.

Deaton couldn't identify it with the knowledge he had. But there was someone I could turn to for help. That night, after Stiles and Scott had left, I picked up the phone and dialed a number I hadn't dialed in years. I was just hoping there would be an answer on the other end.