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It is a night in late autumn. The wind cuts through everything with a sharp merciless cold, already carrying a hint of what is about to come in winter.The forest shivers audibly, a few remaining leaves finalyl losing their hold and twirling to the frost-covered floor.
Chris’ breath rises up in foggy clouds and his fingers slowly grow numb where they are wrapped around the crossbow over his shoulder. His steps make crunching noises even though he is careful, walking on tiptoes and avoiding twigs.
Chris doesn’t like the forest like this, especially when it is a new one he doesn’t know yet. They have moved here only a few days ago and he already knows this forest is cursed. It's in the air and the way it whispers around Chris. The half moon is pale, bare trees throw strange skeletal shadows and Chris is barely able to see where his steps land next. Tracks are hard to find in the frostbitten hard earth. There is no indication of something bigger than mice or rabbits around here. But Chris knows his father is doing these spontaneous night hunts on purpose. Gerard wants Chris to be able to move in the darkness as easily as he himself does it. Wants Chris to be ready for everything.
Gerard took two other men on the hunt, but they are far behind Chris, who was sent into a random direction and told to look out for anything unusual. He flinches when an owl calls out hollowly and shudders when a new gust of freezing wind hits him. He feels it in his bones.
Eventually, Chris arrives at a little half-frozen stream and a wall of heavy rocks. He already thinks about turning around and searching for the others, when he hears the low growl.
Chris freezes. His stomach falls and the hairs in his neck stand up. A huge shadow appears in front of him. Chris knows instinctively that it is a wolf. The growling and sudden gleaming of golden eyes is proof he didn’t need.
He stares at the wolf who glares back and lowers his head, ears flat against his head and fangs bared. He looks like he is preparing for attack.
Chris’ hand twitches. It wants to reach for the crossbow. Everything inside of him screams at him to defend himself. He wills his body to move, but suddenly, a quiet whine joins the growling. The wolf perks up and briefly looks behind him, making a softer but still growling noise. The whining stops.
Chris squints into the darkness. What he sees, makes him gasp. There are two wolf cubs, pressed into a hole between the rocks and huddled up against each other. Their eyes gleam golden for a volatile moment.
Chris swallows. His hand slowly moves away from the crossbow as his mind races. He stumbled upon a wolf protecting two cubs. What the hell is he supposed to do now?
The wolf looks back at him and growls again. It is a warning and Chris takes a step back. His thoughts are racing in his mind. There he is, the hunter still in training, watched closely by his father and the others, expected to fulfill their family's legacy. He grew up with gruesome stories about werewolves and their true nature, about how you can't trust them even if they seem sincere. Gerard's devise is "Only a dead werewolf is a good werewolf". Chris knows the most other hunters follow a code and are against killing werewolves who haven't hurt someone innocent yet, but not his father. His father spits on the code.
And Chris is afraid, what will happen if Gerard Argent sees this.
Still frozen in place and unsure what to do, Chris suddenly hears the other men approaching behind him. Branches crack under their feet.
The wolf stops growling and moves two steps back into the darkness, closer to the cubs. It is completely silent now.
Chris bites his lip.
The three men stop on the other side of the stream. “Did you find anything, boy?” His father calls.
Chris has a second to decide what to say. A part of him is surprised about the words coming over his lips.
“No,” he mutters, turning away from the eyes staring at him. “There’s nothing here.”
“Pity,” Gerard mumbles. “Let’s go down to the river and wait there.”
Chris follows his father and the other hunters, his heart pounding. He thinks he can feel the wolf’s stare in his back.
Chris immediately decides that he can’t stand Peter Hale.
He can’t stand how Hale is walking around like he is owning the school. He resembles a peacock and on top he is a werewolf. He is part of the oldest, biggest werewolf pack around. Chris’ father is cursing the Hales every day and he is only waiting for a reason to wipe them out.
Of course, Chris and Peter are eventually assigned for a school project and of course Chris is too damn proud to ask for a new partner.
When they sit at a table together, Peter stares for a long moment until Chris has to look away, and makes an annoyed noise.
“You,” he says, leaning forward, his eyes narrowing and nostrils flaring. “It’s you.”
“You'll have to be more specific,” Chris says, arching his brows.
Peter scoffs. “You were there that night. You saw me, Derek and Cora in our wolf form. You saw us and still told your father you found nothing.”
Oh.
Chris swallows. Fuck. Of course the wolf from that night had to be Peter fucking Hale. He can’t believe his luck.
“I have no desire to slaughter innocent children,” he murmurs, hiding behind his chemistry book.
“Children,” Peter echoes snidely. “Interesting choice of words. I thought we are merely half-breed vermin for you hunter assholes.”
“We have a code,” Chris remarks coldly. “If you don’t kill anyone innocent, we won’t come after you. It’s as simple as that.”
Peter snorts. “Of course … The code. You really think your father sticks to it? He is full of hate and shit. He knows nothing about us. He only knows we are not like him, that’s enough reason for him to kill us. He is going to feed you with his poison, until you kill without hesitation too. Oh, and by the way,” he leans forward a bit more, his eyes gleaming for a short moment and his voice going low, “if you had taken one more step into the direction of my niece and nephew, I would have killed you. I would have torn your throat out. You froze. You were scared. I could smell it. You are a fucking pathetic excuse for a hunter and I am not scared of you. Not a little bit. Stay the fuck away from my family, hunter, or you'll regret it.”
Chris didn’t notice he was holding his breath, but when Peter leans back again, his blue eyes now focused on his book, he inhales shakily and his lungs are grateful for the fresh air.
Peter’s words burn and a part of Chris wants to hiss equally burning words back, but instead he just glares at Peter and startles when something inside him suddenly wants. Badly. He can't help notice how blue Peter's eyes are, how attractive his cheekbones are and he can't help imagine what it would feel like to kiss those lips. Chris wants to punch himself. He wants to flee the room. But he stays, sitting on his chair tensely, acting like he doesn't notice Peter's smirk, which makes his throat feel dry.
He is so fucked.