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“Oooh, pretty!” Stiles exclaims, eyes wide and delighted by the soft, floating lights. Peter has to lunge to catch him when he slips out of the jacket Peter has been hanging onto and follows after the Will ‘O the Wisp.
“‘Just get him out of the preserve,’” Peter quotes Scott, dragging Stiles back onto the path. “As if that’s easy.”
The preserve isn’t normally this supernaturally active. Maybe the minor fae that are occupying the rest of the pack stirred things up, or maybe the beasties can tell that Stiles is vulnerable and they’re targeting him.
Stiles bumps into Peter, pushing right up into his space. “You’re pretty, too,” Stiles assures him.
“Thank you, Stiles,” Peter says, tucking Stiles close against his side. “You are also pretty.”
“Prettier than her?” Stiles asks, pointing.
Peter follows the line of his finger and spots a wraith drifting between the trees. Damn it, they needed to be moving faster. “How do you feel about a piggyback ride?”
Stiles squeals and climbs him like a tree, delivering a handful of none-too-gentle kicks in the process.
Peter hangs onto Stiles’s legs and breaks into a run. The sooner they’re barricaded into his apartment, the better.