Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1137530.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Major_Character_Death, Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Derek_Hale/Allison_Argent
  Character:
      Laura_Hale, Kate_Agent
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe_-_Canon_Divergence, Feral_Behavior, Mildly_Dubious
      Consent, Canonical_Character_Death, The_Hale_Fire
  Series:
      Part 1 of Wildflowers_and_Werewolves
  Collections:
      Teen_Wolf_Full_Moon_Challenge
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-01-15 Words: 5963
****** Rocking Steady ******
by tsukinofaerii
Summary
     When Kate had to choose between killing werewolves and babysitting
     her eleven year old niece, she decided to combine them with terrible
     consequences. As a result, Allison hid in the woods for six years,
     until she came across a man with glowing blue eyes. What else was she
     supposed to be hit him upside the head with a rock? The sex is just a
     benefit.
Notes
     A prompt from Oridinaryink, who is forever my enabler. Please see the
     bottom for specific trigger warnings and notes. Not precisely beta'd.
     Sorry. D:
See the end of the work for more notes
"She's eleven years old, Chris!" Aunt Kate said into the cell phone, voice soft
and wheedling. One of her hands tapped on the steering wheel of the SUV
nervously. "She can be home alone for a few hours. I just have some errands to
run. She won't even know I'm gone—yes it has to be done tonight."
Allison clutched teddy bear to her chest and tried to look like she was
watching the sky instead of listening. It was nearly nine o'clock, which was
usually her bedtime, but they were parked in a lot instead of anywhere near
home. They'd been running errands all day. Allison was tired, and bored, and
just wanted to go home and go to bed with Mr. Bear. Aunt hadn't really wanted
to watch her to start with, and now she was trying to get rid of her. It was
completely against everything Aunt Kate usually was, and it made Allison almost
spitefully glad that her dad wasn't going along with it
Aunt Kate made a face, then sighed. "Fine. But you owe me one," she told the
phone, flipping it closed before Allison's dad could say anything.
"You can take me home," Allison said quietly, staring down at her toes. Her
sneakers lit up bright pink when she tapped them just right. "I won't tell
Dad."
"But the security cameras will, Sweetie." Aunt Kate reached over and ruffled
her hair. "Looks like you're just going to have to hang out with me for a while
longer while I do boring adult stuff. You don't mind, do you?"
Wordlessly, Allison shook her head, watching Aunt Kate out of the corner of her
eye. She made her sneakers light up again.
For a long second, Aunt Kate stared at her. It was long enough that Allison
started squirming, shoulders hunching in. Then Aunt Kate kissed her temple
loudly and started the car. "Your dad's going to be really pissed off," she
said conversationally as they started backing out of their parking spot. "So
you're going to have to keep this a secret, okay?"
Allison's stomach sank. She turned her head to watch the cars pass them by.
"You're going to leave me anyway?" she asked. "Even with the cameras?" It
wasn't that she didn't want to be alone. She was almost twelve, after all. That
was almost a teenager. But she didn't like being treated like something to be
taken care of, like Mr. Bear.
"Oh, no, honey, no." The SUV jerked a little as Aunt Kate pulled out into
traffic, but as soon as they were on a straight road she reached out and took
Allison's hand. "But you know that errand I have to do?" She didn't wait for
Allison to nod, just kept talking. "It's sort of this huge family thing. Your
dad doesn't want you to know about it yet. But since he said you have to stay
with me anyway..."
"You're going to tell me?" Allison perked up hopefully.
They slowed at a corner, the right-turn blinker clicking as it flashed. Aunt
Kate took the chance to shoot Allison a bubbly, mischievous smile. "Even
better. You're going to help me with it. Think you're up for it?"
Allison smiled back and nodded eagerly, hugging Mr. Bear since she couldn't hug
Aunt Kate. Jugs of chemicals sloshed in the back of the SUV as they took a turn
toward the Beacon Hills Preserve.
===============================================================================
Fire.
The family thing Kate wanted to show her was fire.
"Werewolves," Aunt Kate said. She was serious, Allison could tell, because she
wasn't smiling. "They're werewolves, so you have to be really quiet or they'll
hear you."
The men who had been waiting for them hadn't been happy to have a tagalong, and
so Allison had just hung back where she wouldn't get in the way. It didn't
really hit her what was happening, why they were spilling stuff around a
building until Aunt Kate lit the match and an entire wall went up in flames.
Then people started screaming.
Aunt Kate started pulling her away, saying they needed to leave. Allison dug in
her heels. "But—" She craned her head, looking back at the house. People were
hurt—they were trapped, and the house was burning—Aunt Kate set the house on
fire, why—and they were just going to go? The door wasn't on fire yet, and it
was unlocked. She knew it was, they'd checked it, they could—
Before she'd really thought things through, Allison yanked out of her aunt's
grasp and ran for the door, Mr. Bear still tucked under one arm. Aunt Kate
yelled somewhere behind her, but Allison didn't stop to look.
Inside, the house was filling with smoke. They'd spread the chemicals so it
wouldn't all go up at once, but it was burning fast. Things started to creak
overhead, groaning ominously. Already the stairs were alight, and there was
fire crawling up the walls. Allison coughed, throat stinging already from the
heat and the smoke.
The yells were coming from downstairs. Basement. She started looking for doors,
covering her mouth with her shirt when the smoke got too bad. There was one
door in the kitchen that looked like it might be the right one. It was already
on fire, a dark line of something that burned blue blocking the way.
"Allison!"
Behind her, something creaked, then cracked, and finally crashed. A wall of
fire smashed down as part of the ceiling caved in. The floor underfoot buckled,
sending Allison staggering into one of the burning walls. She screamed as pain
flared up over her back, then coughed when she inhaled a lungful of smoke. She
hit her knees gasping for air, Mr. Bear squashed under her palm.
Terror more than pain kept her from getting up again. It hurt and the house was
falling apart and she didn't know what to do. The entire house was on fire,
now, walls and floor and ceiling, fire every way she looked. I'm going to die,
she realized. The thought felt fuzzy and distant, her brain starting to turn in
circles. She'd killed these people, and she was going to die.
But the door was right there. She could still see the blue fire through the
blurriness, could hear people screaming, a dog howling somewhere, crying,
hurting. Keeping down, Allison started to crawl for the door. Every move stung
her back and her leg was hurt too, but there were people, and she could do it.
She was almost to the blue fire when someone grabbed her up by the waist,
yanking her up off the floor. Aunt Kate clutched Allison to her chest, hunching
as she carried Allison to a tiny kitchen window, the only one in sight. Aunt
Kate didn't try to open it, just smashed the pane with her elbow. Glass was
still sticking up like monster teeth as she shoved Allison through into the
smoky night air.
"Run!"
Allison choked and staggered to her feet, following orders blindly. The house
was right on the edge of the preserve. It didn't take long before the trees
swallowed her up.
Roots and dropped limbs tugged at her ankles, tripped her up. Her back and legs
and the whole side of her head hurt, and everything was blurry and stung and
she just wanted to stop and rest but she couldn't make her legs listen. She ran
and ran until the ground dropped away and icy cold water splashed up around her
ankles. Where water ran over her burns they flared up with throbbing pain, but
it faded into cool relief after a second.
It wasn't completely dark; the moon was full, but it wasn't enough for her to
really see, not while her eyes were clogged.Biting back her sobs—don't cry, her
mother always said don't cry, just get it done—Allison sat down and tried to
splash the water up over the burns that she couldn't get submerged. The
stinging pain made her breath hitch, but she kept it up until the water had
turned everything numb.
Mr. Bear bobbed in the water beside her, paw still clenched in her hand free
hand. One of his ears had been charred, and most of his shirt. Sniffling,
Allison splashed water over his hurts, too, until he was soggy and heavy.
When she couldn't stand the cold anymore, she pulled herself out of the water,
climbing up the bank until there was a tree root she could cling to. Light from
the house fire rose up into the sky, an orange glow just over the tree tops. If
she listened, she could hear it crackling, hear the shouts and sirens. There
weren't any more screams.
She'd done that. There'd been people in there, and she'd helped set them on
fire. It didn't matter if Aunt Kate said they were werewolves, they were dead.
They were dead, and Aunt Kate was dead, and she was a murderer. They'd have to
send her to jail if they caught her.
A cool, early-spring breeze blew over the back of her neck, carrying with it
the smell of smoke. Coughing a little, Allison curled up in the crook of the
tree roots and held Mr. Bear so tight that water ran down to pool in her lap.
Her scalp stung when she bowed her head to kiss his head, hair pulling on her
singed scalp.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Bear. We can't go home now."
===============================================================================
Six_years_later
She padded through the trees at the edge of a clearing, sling swinging loosely
by her knees. At the far end of the clearing, the buck was still nibbling on
the loose bark of a winter-dead tree. It was young and nervous, but hungry. She
could see its ribs; it had been a hard winter for everyone.
For hunting, she'd knotted her tangled brown hair back with a stick to keep it
out of the way. It was a cold day, so her feet were wrapped in thick, warm
hides, but she hadn't worried about more than that. Anything she wore would
risk getting caught on a branch, and that sort of mistake could cost her a meal
she couldn't afford to lose.
Breathing out, she took aim, letting the swirl of her sling get faster, rising
above her head. The buck froze, skittered aside, turning to look at something
behind it. A second later, the woods cracked to life and the buck sprang off.
Lip curling in anger, she turned her attention to what had startled the buck.
Predator or prey, both were food. She stayed still and quiet, crouched down
with her sling spinning until the branches at the tree line moved. Then she let
the rock fly. It cracked against bone, bright red splattering over a tree as
the animal went down. Before it could get over being stunned, she scrambled
across the clearing, sharp rock clutched in her other hand to end whatever it
was.
It was a person.
It had been a long, long time since she'd seen a person up close—not since the
fire, really. Slowly, she inched forward, quiet as a ground squirrel, fingers
loose around her weapon. The person—man—groaned, naked shoulders rolling as he
started to push to his knees, black ink seeming to move with his muscles. Blood
stained his hair, dripped down his jaw where her rock had hit him.
"What the hell..." he muttered, shaking his head. He must have caught sight of
her. His head turned, lips pulled back to bare fangs that hadn't been there a
second ago, growling.
She reacted on instinct, lashing out with the rock. His eyes flared brilliant
blue. Then her rock connected with his temple and he slumped again, quiet.
Cautiously, she inched forward and prodded him. When he still didn't move, she
stared at him for a long moment, thinking.
She could just leave him. Probably nothing would kill him before he woke up.
But that seemed wrong, somehow. He was the first person she'd seen up close in
a long time, and she might not see another for years.
Decided, she nodded to herself and stowed her tools in the pouch that hung
around her waist. She picked up and stowed the rock she'd slung at him; good,
round rocks were hard to find. Then she squatted to heft the man over her
shoulders. He was heavy, but she was strong enough as long as she let his legs
drag.
A few minutes later, the clearing was empty of anything more than bloodstains
and last year's leaves.
===============================================================================
For winter denning, she'd taken over a spot that used to belong to a bear, a
space hollowed out under the bulk of a fallen tree. There was plenty of room
for two of them, and it was out of the wind and most of the weather. Come
spring, it would fill up with rain water, but during the winter it was good.
It took a long time to get the man there. He was heavy, all muscle, and she had
to stop and hit him again every few minutes when he started to wake up. By the
time they were back, the sun was setting behind the trees, and the wind had
turned bitter. She settled him in the back, using bits of dried sinew to tie
his wrists and ankles and keep him from running. Tomorrow she could take him to
the edge of the woods and let him go.
Once he was good and tied, she grabbed Mr. Bear and sat down on the far wall,
pulled her knees up to her chest and waited. He was... nice to look at, with
arms that were thick with muscle and a broad chest that tapered down to a small
waist. Dark hair scattered over his cheeks and jaw. Her fingers twitched to see
if it was as soft as it looked.
She hoped she didn't have to kill him.
The den started to warm up fast with two of them, maybe for the first time
ever. The wind rattled the trees outside, moaned through the branches. Almost
none of it found its way in. Unlike the sunlight, which slanted across the
floor at a sharp angle to spill over the back wall. Her eyes never left the
man, watching as his chest rose and fell, as the bruise at his temple turned
purple, then green, like it was already healing.
He started to stir, groaning. She rocked forward on her feet, poised to leap if
he tried anything. All he did was raised a hand to touch his face, then jerk
upright when he realized his hands were tied at the wrist. For a second he
stared, obviously taking in everything, and then tried to pull his wrists
apart. The cords strained as he tested them.
When they started to stretch too far, she growled and picked up one of the
large rocks that she kept for breaking open nuts. He growled back, head
whipping around, eyes back to that same glowing blue. His nostrils flared. Then
he blinked in what looked like surprise, and they were back to normal.
"You're human?"
She bared her teeth in answer and settled back on her heels, still holding the
rock in case he made her use it.
After a second, the man settled back in, moving slowly, eyes on the rock in her
hand. "Laura gets news about a werewolf in the woods, and it's some kid playing
Jungle Book. Freaking figures."
At the word werewolf she went rigid. Air got hard to find; her chest was tight,
like the winter she'd gotten the fever, and the old scars on her back twinged
in remembered pain. Werewolf. Aunt Kate had said the people in the house were
that.
If he saw her weakness, the man didn't do anything. He just watched. It
reminded her of the way the coyotes watched her, predator to predator. Then his
eyes went to Mr. Bear at her feet. He was old now, raggedy. She'd done her best
to keep him safe, but it was hard enough keeping herself safe. There was no
denying what he was, though his jacket had become bandages, and one of his ears
was long gone.
When he looked at her face again, there was something different in his
expression. Gentler. She didn't think she liked it. "What's your name? I'm
Derek."
She shrugged. She didn't care what his name was. There was only the two of
them, after all. And soon he'd be dead or gone.
"What are you going to do with me?" He struggled to sit up straighter without
straining his bonds. "You can't just keep me here!"
Another shrug, but she settled back some more. He wasn't going to make her kill
him yet. That was good. She'd have hated to have dragged him back all this way
just to have to drag him away again. That much meat in the den would attract
ants.
The sun was setting, the line of the light that filled the den starting to
creep away. In the darkness, his eyes shined like a coyote's again, green-
yellow where the little trickles of light hit them. She waited until the last
bit of sun left and the den was turning blue-grey with twilight. Then she crept
to the opening and grabbed the desiccated bush that was pushed off to the side.
A little tugging and it blocked the way. If something tried to come in, it
would rattle and warn her.
With the bush good and secure, she turned back to him. His eyes had gone blue
again. Huffing, she crawled over and shoved him back down. She pulled the stick
from her hair, tucked Mr. Bear into the crook of his arm and curled up along
his side. He was warm, and even with the den closed up it got cold at night.
"You can't be serious."
Tucking her chin up on his chest, she raised her eyebrows and looked at him in
the little bit of light there still was. Pointedly, she laid down again and
closed her eyes. He grumbled, but she ignored it and, before long, drifted off
into sleep.
===============================================================================
Something cracked, and a wolf howled in the distance. Her eyes snapped open and
she held her breath. No light leaked through the den's entrance; the moon was
almost new, and the bush blocked what little light might have leaked through.
She waited, tense, but whatever it was didn't happen again, and slowly she
relaxed.
Under her head, the man's chest rose and fell in the easy rhythm of sleep. It
was more comfortable than she thought it would be, all that muscle surprisingly
soft when it wasn't in use. Sighing softly, she rubbed her cheek against it and
inched closer, leg stretching out over the top of his.
After a few minutes, anxiously fidgeting while she waited for sleep to return,
she finally gave up. Sitting up, she looked around to judge the time, but the
den was the pitch black of night still. Under her hand, the man's chest kept
rising, steady and smooth. Her weight didn't seem to bother him at all.
Curiously, she petted down his chest, feeling the muscles expand and contract,
the smooth slide of skin over them. Then she reached up. It took some careful
work, following the line of his shoulders, then the tendons in his neck before
she found his beard. Her fingers skittered over it, petting. It was as soft as
it looked. Softer, really. She stroked it again, looking down as if she could
see him. For a moment, just one flash of one, she missed humanity. She missed
people, and touches, and words.
She didn't realize his breathing had changed until the face under her fingers
moved. "You're smiling."
Her fingers froze, the smile he'd somehow known about dropping away. Blue
flared in the dark, bright, glowing blue, like the color of the sky when the
sun was just right and the water was perfect. Werewolf. Just like Aunt Kate had
said.
Clenching her jaw stubbornly, Allison let her hand slide back down and followed
the muscles to where a line of hair tickled between her fingers. He hissed, but
didn't say anything as she let her hands wander, using them where her eyes were
no good. Her fingers played along his breastbone, dipped at the bumps of his
abs. The cut of his hips slid under her palms, rounded by even more muscle that
led down to the tight waistband of his jeans.
She hesitated, nails scraping over the denim. She'd never—there hadn't been
people, but she had urges. Feelings, thoughts, dreams. Sometimes she used her
hands, but here was a person, and she was curious. After only a bit of debate,
she reached for the button, prying it out of its hole and pulling down the
zipper. He hissed, hips rising to help as she pushed his jeans down, dragging
his underwear with it.
Once again, she let her hands do the work. Straddling one of his legs, she set
in to explore. There was more hair on his legs, thick and rough against her
inner thighs and palms. It turned thicker the higher up she went, until it
suddenly came together right at his crotch. Which made sense—she had hair in
all the same places. And right there in the center of it was his dick, half-
soft, pliant.
She wasn't completely stupid. Before the fire, she'd gotten some talks, done
some worksheets. And people came to the woods, high school kids, hikers,
couples on picnics. It had been easy to figure out what they were doing. But it
wasn't at all the same as having him right there, breathing heavily when she
touched him, starting to get hard.
What would it be like to try? Just a little, just something? When would she
ever get a chance again?
Pursing her lips, she petted long, smooth line of his dick, thinking. It fit
just right in the curve of her palm, letting her feel as it slowly started to
get thicker. When she moved her wrist, he seemed to like it more. At least, his
dick did. The tip was starting to get a little damp, and the skin was tighter.
Leaning down, she found the tip and licked it curiously. It tasted sharp and
salty, unpleasant enough to make her wrinkle her nose. She did it again before
pulling away, a smirk curving her lips when his hips jerked and he moaned.
"You—Why—"
She growled, snapping when his fingertips touched her cheek. Didn't he ever
shut up? Twisting her hand some more, she pulled on his dick sharply. It didn't
keep him quiet, but whatever he had to say got lost in a moan, which was good
enough. The air in the den was starting to get even warming, to smell musky,
like it did the times she used her hand.
Then his knees bent, bracing himself to sit up. In a flash, she put a hand into
the center of his chest and shoved him back down. At first, there was pressure,
like pushing against a tree, but then he went down flat again. She leaned her
weight down on him, lips curled in a snarl he couldn't see, nails biting into
his skin. The thump of his heart fast and strong under her palm, and the way
she was leaning let his dick brush against her stomach.
Stay.
They stayed that way until he went lax under her, no longer resisting. She
kissed his shoulder as a reward, rubbing along his chest soothingly. This time,
she kept one hand on him while the other wrapped around his dick. She liked the
way his breath hitched, how his back arched when her hands moved lower, the
sounds he made. Sometimes his eyes glowed blue, and she liked that, too.
She explored lazily, trailing her fingers over his skin, down between his
thighs. A touch behind his balls made him shiver, and lower made him groan and
stretch. He moved under her, not trying to get away anymore, just moving. Then
his leg flexed between hers, pressing up against her cunt.
The touch made her hiss and rock down, riding his thigh. She gasped and leaned
down, rocking harder. Shivers ran through her as she worked herself against
him. Pressing her weight harder against his chest, she slid up, moving to
straddle his hips instead of his thigh and doing it again, feeling him slide
between her legs.
His fingers dug into her leg as she rolled her hips against him, gripping tight
like he needed something to hold on to. She'd gotten slick as she played with
him, skin hot with want. It eased the way, made her moan when he pressed
against her just right. The head of his dick brushed right against the front of
her. When it slipped and pushed against her entrance, she jerked and gasped,
forcing herself down until she'd taken all of him.
Under her, his entire body rolled, tossing her forward against his chest. She
cried out, arching as he stretched her open, slumped forward his chest.
Something snapped, stinging her thigh. Then he was gripping her hips, steadying
her as she rode him.
The sounds of them moving together filled the den. Leaning forward was the best
part. When she did that, something extra jolted through her. She rocked faster,
harder, until those little lightning strikes became almost constant. His moans
were silent, but she could feel them rumble against her hands. The vibration
played up her arms, too soft to hear but inescapably there.
It built until she cried out, entire body jerking in a rush of pleasure so
strong that she ended up slumped over him, dazed until she thought to move
again. Her body was still buzzing, and it didn't take long for the release to
build up a second time. She rode him through it, scratching his chest with
ragged, chewed-short nails.
He jerked, voice rising into a long groan before he went still, wet heat
rushing to fill her. She let herself fall forward, forehead resting against his
collarbone. Her whole body felt limp and comfortably sore.
One of his hands ran down her back, rubbing over the burn scars that littered
it. Something tickled her spine, dragging loosing over her skin. She grumbled,
turning her head to burrow in deeper when it tickled between her shoulders.
Then she went still while his hand rubbed a circle at the back of her neck. His
free hand.
Under her, he froze too, clearly realizing what had happened.
There was no telling which of them moved first. He bucked her off, but she was
already rolling, feeling around in the dark for a rock. Her palm closed around
it quickly, used to working without light to see by. As soon as she was armed,
she threw herself at the place she guessed him to be, slamming her rock against
whatever came first. It slid right by him, grazing something before it cracked
against the wall of the den.
One of his hands wrapped around her wrist, squeezing, sharp nails biting into
her skin. The bones in her wrist ground together until she cried out, kicking
out to try and get free. She connected with something that crunched like bone.
He roared, letting go of her wrist. It vibrated down through her stomach, froze
her blood. Instinctively she dropped and scrambled away. The bush at the
entrance rattled, a bit of starlight shining through.
And then the den was empty again.
===============================================================================
The next day was for hunting. It was a cold, miserable day and she would have
rather hid in her den, but the scraps she'd had left were almost gone. Hunger
was a sharp pinch in her belly that drive her forward. There wasn't time to
think about the man, or how he'd made her feel, how strangely nice it had been
to not be alone. It had happened, and it was done. There were more important
things. So as soon as the sky was turning lighter, she collected her rocks and
her sling, the broken sinew from the man's bindings, and she went out.
The pickings weren't good.
She spent all day hunting anything that was too slow or too old to get away,
but it was like all the animals had been scared away. The squirrels stayed high
in the trees, and the rabbits hid in their burrows. Even the deer, which were
down from the north for the winter, were gone. By the time the sun was setting,
all she'd managed was some nuts scavenged from a squirrel's stash and a
scavenged carcass that was probably too old to eat anyway.
The nuts rattled in her pouch as she scrambled through the woods, not nearly
enough for the night, but they would have to do. There'd be better food
tomorrow. Or the day after. There would have to be. Her only other choice was
to go near people, and she'd had enough of that.
As soon as the den was in sight, she paused. The bush was pulled aside more
than she'd left it, and there was a new trail in the fallen leaves that crossed
the one she usually used. Crouching down, she inched up to the spot poked it,
looking for rope or traps in the damp mass of rotting leaves. There wasn't
anything, though—just a displaced leaves here, some scattered dirt there.
Still cautious, she loaded one of her better rocks into her sling and edged
closer to the mouth of the den. If something else had taken up residence, it
probably wouldn't like being rousted out any more than she did.
There wasn't an animal in the den, though. What was there was even stranger: a
chunk of meat, sitting on a plate. It was cooked to a warm brown, and still
steaming slightly in the winter air. Mr. Bear sat beside it, a bright red bow
around his neck. Her stomach growled, and she hesitated. She was hungry, and
food was hard to find even when it wasn't winter, but...
Shaking her head, she took a step away from the den.
"Go ahead and eat it. It's not poisoned or anything."
She whipped around and snarled, throwing one of her rocks.
The woman who'd spoken caught it in one hand without even flinching. "Good
aim."
Next to her, a man—the man, her man, the one who'd escaped—shrugged. He'd
finally put on a shirt, and there was no sign of the bruises. "I told you,
Laura. She's good."
"You said she hit you. That's not actually hard." The woman stepped forward,
palms up and out. She was tall and lean, black hair pulled up into a ponytail
that danced around her shoulders. When they were next to each other, there was
no doubt that they were related. Their faces were both sharp, with high cheek
bones and the same eyes. "We don't want to hurt you."
Another snarl slipped out. The den wasn't safe—they'd been there, they could
have put in traps, they could keep her in there—but they were spread out enough
that if she ran they could catch her easily. So she kept her back to the fallen
tree, watching, waiting for her chance. She still had another rock. She could
still fight.
The woman didn't get close enough for her to use the rock, though. She stopped
a body length away and crouched down. Fading sunlight caught her eyes, made
them look as red as the man's had been blue. "I'm Laura. You can go eat. Derek
said he'd gotten in the way of your meal yesterday."
Behind her, the man crossed his arms and looked away. "She doesn't speak."
A quick, playful smile twisted the woman's lips, but she didn't take her eyes
away. "That doesn't mean she doesn't understand. Do you?"
Her eyes darted between them, uncertain. Then she nodded, short and sharp.
The woman's smile widened. Her teeth were sharper than they should have been.
Pointy. "So. Are you going to eat?"
In answer, she leaned back against the log that formed the den's top. She'd eat
when they were gone and it was safe. Maybe. The sun was starting to reach that
gap in the trees that hit the entrance of the den. It was warm where it touched
her skin, but it wouldn't be so for long. It might be better to hold on to the
meat, in case she couldn't find food tomorrow. Then it would be a good backup.
"Okay." With a shrug, the woman settled down in the leaves, like she realized
that it would be over if she tried to get up. "So, you like Derek?"
Heat rushed to her cheeks. She curled her lips to bare her teeth.
The man blushed too, red climbing up to color even his ears. "Laura!"
"What? She reeks of you. I'm starting to see what you meant about a busy
night." The woman twisted to look back. "She's cute. She'll be cuter if we can
get her a bath and a hair brush."
"You're not—" the man—Derek—sputtered, indignant. "She's not a puppy. We can't
just take her in. We should call the cops."
She flinched, hunching in on herself.
"I don't think she likes that idea. Why can't we just take her in?" Laura
looked back at her, expression relaxed. She was completely in control, and it
showed. "If she wants it. It must be tough, living out here like this. Is it?"
She shook her head before she even realized what she was doing. It was easy to
get off guard. They were so soft with each other. Easy. She missed that, missed
people, touching. Maybe it was because Laura was a girl, too, but something
about her invited trust. Laura would take care of her, if she let her.
It would be nice to stop hiding, finally. If they weren't going to the
police...
As if she could read thoughts, Laura leaned forward, expression turning
victorious. "What's your name, cub?"
Sounds rested on the tip of her tongue; she had to frame her lips around them,
not sure she could form the words. When had she used words last? Her throat had
been hurt so badly after the fire, and then she'd just stopped. Never started
again. It hadn't seemed worth it.
But the sounds formed, syllables stringing together slowly. "A—All-ison." Her
voice croaked with disuse, rough and dry. She swallowed and licked her lips,
looking down at her fur-wrapped feet. The name sounded too strange in her own
ears for comfort. Like it didn't belong to her anymore. And maybe it didn't.
Maybe she wasn't Allison anymore. Allison hadn't been a murderer.
But maybe she could make up for that, if she went with them. Maybe.
Leaves crackled right beside her. She jerked away, but Derek was only settling
his jacket over her shoulders. It was still warm, and smelled faintly of dirt
and fur. She hunched into it, pulling it up around her ears.
Laura's eyes were bright, glowing red as she held out her hands. Hesitantly,
Allison stepped forward, taking one of them and lowering herself down to look
Laura in the eye. Derek took the other, staying close to Allison's side. It
should have made her feel crowded, but instead she was just warm.
"Don't worry, Allison." Laura pulled them in until they were all three close
together, nearly hugging. "We'll take care of you, now."
End Notes
     Character Death: Kate Argent dies early in the fic. It's implied that
     the rest of the Hale Fire went as canon states.
     Rape/Noncon Warning: Mildly dubious consent. Derek is tied up and
     technically prisoner
     Underage: Allison is 17 at the time of banging, but her thought
     patterns feel younger due to having been away from people for so
     long.
     Violence: The Hale Fire. Also a lot of rocks.
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