STALE BLOOD
(REWRITTEN)

THE HALE SIBLINGS MOVED INSIDE their barely standing family home; Carter no longer feeling comfortable sitting on the porch, pretending that she could still find peace sitting on bench where Laura used to assist her with simple math. Derek had just made it clear that the feeling of safety she felt while being away from Beacon Hills was just a childish illusion.

    Plus, outside she felt too exposed. What she really wanted to do was find a dark corner, place herself in it and glower at anything that came near. Instead, she angled one of the burnt kitchen chairs into one corner. Carter noticed that Derek had done the same opposite of her. Logically, they knew they were safe, but if either of them had learned one thing six years ago, it was that logic played a very tiny role in your life when your friends and family start dying.

    Carter looked around, silently appraising the charred remnants of her childhood home, ignoring the hallow feeling in her chest. "How did you find me anyway? I paid everything in cash, withdrew as much money from my account as I could after that night. I didn't want to leave a credit card trail when I left."

    "I know. You put a false name on the deed, no cars registered in your name, even though I saw one when I came to your house." Carter shrugged. When you've been running for more than six years, you learn a thing or two. "Every other year, you would pop up, take out a decent about of money, each time from a different family account and then you would disappear again."

    "How long have you been tracking me, Derek?"

    Derek's mouth twisted, a grimace of distaste. "I didn't want to; it was Laura's idea that we should keep track of everything you do – especially after what happened. I needed to know that you were still alive at all times – though not, apparently, doing a lot of living. Did you even talk to someone your age while you were up there?"

    "My life was perfectly fine, and none of your business. We made a deal, remember? That you and Laura would never contact me again – it was too dangerous. And, yes, if you must know, I did talk to people my own age, thank you very much."

    "Whatever you were doing in Canada was just a life, you weren't living. And you've turned yourself into a prisoner out of fear. You need to have at least a few people in your life, Car. Otherwise, you're just killing time and waiting for death."

    "Tell me what happened," Carter abruptly changed the subject knowing that the conversation was taking an undesirable turn.

    Derek kept his eyes on her. "I found her in the woods. She was lying on her side, with her entire body cut in half."

    Carter looked up in surprise. "It was an Argent?" It was unexpected – surprisingly. Werewolves, ever since the Hale fire, had been lying low in order to keep themselves protected; some even getting the hell out of dodge entirely. But the ritualistic mutualizing was all too familiar for Carter to think otherwise, the Argents had always had a knack for stringing up Omegas, sometimes even Betas, and cutting them in half with broad swords.

    "No," Derek said sternly. "The Argents didn't kill Laura – Peter did. He somehow healed himself enough to transition in order for him to kill Laura and become an Alpha, completing his healing in the process. He began slaughtering random people in town and even turning a teenage boy while doing so. Before he eventually caught up to Kate Argent, and killed her."

    Carter took a deep breath, trying to let everything sink in before she spoke. "What happened after he killed her?"

    "I killed him." Derek said solemnly, as though worried about Carter lashing out. "Well, don't look too upset, I mean, he did deserve it."

    "Don't tell me what to do, Derek." Carter snapped. "Those people are dead – Laura's dead, an innocent was turned. I can't get over that. I wasn't prepared for all of this like you, Laura, and Cora were; I can't just push away my pain and grief because I'm some higher-than-humanity supernatural creature – I'm human. I've tried to get over that night, just like I'll try to get over this."

    "I don't believe for a second that you've made any attempt to actually deal with the events that took place that night. You've had two years for therapy, and I'm certain you haven't tried a thing." Derek looked pointedly at his younger sister. "You are hiding, not processing. You've been hiding from the past, from me, from yourself. You're going to stop eventually, and I think innocent people being murdered should be a damn good motivator."

    "And that is where you and I have always differed, Derek. There is no getting over what I did, and the fact that you can even ask that of me shows how little you remember. I loved Laura, too, hell, she was my fucking sister, too, but I'm not putting myself in a situation where I could hurt people again. And the last time I checked, our involvement did more harm than good."

    Derek shook his head. "I remember how horrifying that night was, I do. But I believe that things will be different this time, because I believe that. Otherwise, I'd have to ignore all of the innocent's lives lost, and I know you wouldn't ask me to do that. I don't believe you can ignore it, either."

    Carter closed her eyes. Unbidden, images from her nightmares projected onto her lids, the flames insistently consuming any peace she hoped to find. She snapped her eyes open. For a moment, the afterimage of the fire superimposed itself onto her vision, causing Derek to burn right in front of her. She shook her head to clear the image. "What do you want me to do?"

    "Whatever needs to be done, but I need you, and I'm done respecting your space and giving you alone time and hoping you'll just forgive yourself and maybe even forgive me. This argument is over, Carter."

    "Yes, sir – Alpha, sir."

    It had been a bit disconcerting how quickly Derek and Carter fell back into their old conversational patterns, the teasing and mockery. The conversations may have lacked in some departments that were once fully stocked two years ago, but the framework for their sibling comedy act that hardly amused anyone but themselves, was based upon a mutual understanding of each other.

    Denial, however, was far simpler than the mess of emotions that Derek's return had evoked in her, and she didn't bother in dwelling on them as she drove toward her dreaded destination. Carter knew she wouldn't express her vulnerability in an hour's session on a therapist's couch, like Derek had suggested. The fact that she was willing to do so internally only revealed how much self-hatred she held for what she did.

    The silence in the car provided fertile soil for her memories of that of the night before, and her thoughts rerouted to the horrific images of fire and smoke and blood and empty eyes that would never see again. She tried to dodge each memory as it appeared, only to find another thrown in her path, and there had been exit out of her own mind.

    It had taken over a year before she stopped having nightmares every single time she closed her eyes, stopped waking to the sound of her own screams, her throat raw from shouting and body drenched in sweat. Her subconscious was never going to forget the broken bodies, the crackling sound as flesh caught fire and the slashing sound vibrating through the air as a sharpened blade sliced through tissue. It was never going to forget the thick columns of smoke or the river of blood as they made their escape, keeping their presence at the massacre unknown.

    "Show time," Carter muttered to herself, pulling into the school's parking lot and interrupted her own reverie. She looked up at the school, her big brown eyes wide, lips pressed together. Her long brown curls hung over the shoulders of her black leather jacket as she flung her backpack on her shoulder. Then she gave another fleeting glance at her car beside her, the folds of her green and blue scarf brushing against her chin. She angrily crossed the parking lot and into the overly warm building.

    Her phone rang, breaking the silence that engulfed the halls as she walked through the doors.

    "Calling to tease me about school already, Brother?" Carter asked jokingly, trying not to be annoyed.

    "I'm just calling to give you your first mission." Derek explained, sounding exasperated at his sister's lack of seriousness.

    Carter abruptly stopped. "Wait, what mission? I literally just got into town yesterday, you can't seriously expect me to be able to pull off an entire mission successfully when I haven't even been fully debriefed."

    Derek sighed on the other line. "I need you to get close to Scott."

    "Scott?"

    "Yep. You thought it was just going to be the two of us? Look, I don't understand what happened that night any more than you do. It freaked me the fuck out, too, even if I did handle it better than you did. But I don't want a repeat, because there is a very viable chance that could happen again if Beacon Hills is in fact balancing out the good and bad. So we're handling things a bit differently this time, just to be on the safe side. So, I'm calling in some reinforcements." Derek replied.

    Carter was suspicious of his logic. "More people can cause more things to go wrong. I don't see how inviting some freshly-turned werewolf along is going to make things safer."

    "He's not some out-of-control newbie, so lay off the assumptions, Captain Judgy. We can use his help – he's definitely one of the strongest bitten werewolves I've ever seen."

    Carter snorted. "Seriously? No one named Scott is a badass. Scotts might be quality waiters or some dime-a-dozen office attendant, but they are not badasses. I'm telling you, they're just not." Carter looked up and hurriedly said: "Okay, okay, I've got to go." Before hanging up and stuffing the phone in her pocket. The vice principal was waiting for her at the front desk in the office. He was a moderately short man, with dark-caramel colored skin and was wearing a gray suit. "Sorry to keep you waiting. My brother's just worried about me, this being such a big change and all."

    "From what your brother told me, New York was where you had been living for the past couple of years." He said, looking down at the manila folder in her hands. "You were living with your–"   

    "My aunt, sir," Carter answered smoothly, expertly creating the lie off the top of her head. "But apparently a dead aunt warranted moving all the way across the country back to where I was born – to live with my brother."

    The vice-principal blinked, completely caught off guard at her blunt statement. "So, how are you liking Beacon Hills so far? Anything chance since the last time you visited?"

    Carter had heard that question so many times in the past six years; every time she would move to a new place, someone who had been born and raised in that particular town was always too eager to poke and prod at the new girl with the troubled past. The truth was, she wasn't liking Beacon Hills – it wasn't that it was bad place to live, just the fact that almost her entire family had been murdered in said town. The only thing that made the town slightly bearable was that she had Derek; finally being reunited with her brother.

    "It's great," Carter sighed, not bothering to look up at him. "Just the same as it was six years ago."

    So, she wasn't the most polite person in the world, she never had been, but she blamed it on the fact that she had been away from people she loved for so long she never had a reason to be polite. She said what she thought, and that, more often than not, got her in trouble.

    There hadn't been any talking after that, the vice-principal handing Carter all of the assorted papers she would need to begin her first day of school there at Beacon Hills High School. She flipped through the pages aimlessly, eyes scanning over the false information as she navigated through the hallways; the numbers on the doors made it easier to find her Chemistry class in only a few minutes.

    As soon as she found the class and pulled the door open, wincing visibly at the annoying creaking sound the old rusty hinges made and she could feel all of the eyes in the classroom practically burn holes in her body. Mr. Harris, the Chemistry teacher, almost seemed to enjoy watching Carter stand there awkwardly under the intense stares of every student in the class as he held his hand out for her to wait at the door.

    Pulling out a sheet of paper, Harris asked: "Caterina Hale, I presume?"

    The brunette crossed her arms over her chest, impatiently tapping her foot. "It's Carter, actually."

    "Of course it is," Harris stated, rolling his eyes at Carter's arrogance. "You'll be sitting next to Mr. Stilinski." He pointed toward a lab table, one in which a boy with pale skin, short brown hair, and several dark freckles that dotted his face sat at. The boy raised his hand in the air slightly.

    Carter just gave a fleeting glance at the door before dragging herself to the table behind a guy with brown hair that fell in a mop of loose brown waves. His skin was a deep shade of tan, black hair styled in a lazy-messy, and his features were complemented by his deep brown eyes.       

    Stiles Stilinski sent Carter a small smile, which she gladly returned with a nod. Harris' class was obviously the downfall of every students', who were unlucky to have him, day. Carter knew this much by just the looks on their faces alone gave away that they dreaded coming to this class every day. Harris began handing out pop-quizzes, her own landing in front of her face as she tried to figure out how in the hell she was supposed to get a good grade on quiz when it was her first day.

    Stiles Stilinski ignored the brunette's presence for the time being, leaning forward in his seat to whisper to Scott. "All right, it's causing me severe mental anguish to say this, but he's right." He pointed over his shoulder with his pencil, Carter following the gesture until her eyes landed upon Jackson Whittemore.

    Scott glanced over his shoulder at his best friend, "I know."

    "What if the next body part she steals is from someone who's still alive?" Stiles asked, completely obliviously to the fact that Carter was intently listening to their entire conversation about Lydia Martin, the strawberry-blonde who was running around the woods naked.

    "This is a pop quiz, Mister Stilinski," Harris abruptly announced, making all eyes land on the victim of the teacher's obvious hatred. Stiles, along with Scott, looked at one another as if they were two kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar before dinner, which only caused Carter to sigh and run her hands over her face. "If I hear your voice again, I may be tempted to give you detention for the rest of your high school career."

    Stiles' eyebrows shot upward, unconsciously digging an even deeper hole for himself. "Can you do that?"       

    "Well, there it is again; your voice. Triggering the only impulse I've ever had to strike a student repeatedly and violently. I'll see you at three for detention." Harris ordered. Carter bit down on the inside of her cheek, glancing over her shoulder to see that Jackson and Danny were hardly restraining their laughter. Scott cautiously looked back at his friend, but his head quickly turned back when Harris called him out: "You too, Mister McCall?"

    "No, sir," Scott answered, shaking his head. That was the last thing he needed, another reason for his mother, Melissa McCall, to decide she wanted to murder him.

    Suddenly, a fiery sensation shot down Carter's spine. The tips of her fingers began to tingle, little bolts of lightning shooting through her entire body as an intense pain flared up at the base of her skull. She harshly gripped the sides of her head, desperately trying to push the headache out of her head, groaning loudly while Jackson abruptly stood from his stool and bolted out of the classroom holding his nose.

    A thick warm liquid slowly trickled out of her nose, settling between her lips. Carter brought her right hand up to her lips and gathered a little of the fluid on her fingertips before pulling back to examine it. And what startled her the most was that it wasn't blood, it was an inky black color. A gag-like noise built up in the back of her throat at the revelation.

    "Miss Hale, do you need to go to the nurse and get that check out?" Harris asked, noticing the severely distressed look on the brunette's face.

    Carter shot out of her seat, grabbing the hall pass that Jackson had neglected to grab. It hadn't taken her long to get to the boys' restroom, barging in without caring whether or not there were any other guys in there. When she rounded the corner and entered the main part of the restroom, she saw Derek grabbing Jackson by the collar of his shirt before slamming him against the porcelain sink.

    "What the hell is going on in here?" Carter questioned, moving closer to them as she grabbed Jackson's face in her hand, tilting it so she could get a better look at the black liquid that was draining out of both of their noses. She released Jackson's face, moving toward the paper towel dispenser, grabbing a handful before cautiously walking back over to him. She gently cupped the back of Jackson's neck with her unoccupied hand and began to wipe away the access liquid with the paper towels, discarding on the blackened towel when finished.

    Derek instantly noticed that the identical fluid was coming out of Carter's nose as well, placing a concerned hand on her shoulder before pushing her back a little to keep her a good distance away from Jackson.

    "You're looking a little pale there, Jackson," Derek announced, narrowing his eyes at the teenage boy. "You feeling okay?"

    Jackson flinched back drastically when Derek reached out smoothed out his shirt. "Never better," Jackson spat out through gritted teeth, refusing to let the siblings know that he was feeling anything but fine, when in reality his head was pounding so profusely that he thought it was going to explode. He glanced over at Carter, the beautiful brunette whom he'd never seen before that day, she had been wiping away the black liquid with the back of her hand.

    It had only taken Carter a matter three seconds to put the pieces together. Jackson noticed how her expression fell slack when she figured it out. The brunette was glancing between the two males in front of her before her face fell slack. Then, the outrage came, she narrowed her eyes at Derek, who was swiftly avoiding the eyes of his sister.    

    "Why did you do it, Derek?"

    "I did what he begged me to do," Derek retorted, crossing his arms over his chest, knowing that dealing with his youngest sister's outrage and stubbornness hadn't been his first priority at the moment. He had been handling the teenage girl's stubbornness for years, which only meant that he could easily get through to her.

    Carter squeezed her eyes shut and took a few deep breaths before she found herself able to speak without the fear that she would lash out at her brother. "So what's going on with you, Jackson?"

    "Nothing," Jackson replied, wanting to keep the secret of the black blood and the wooziness to himself.

    Carter knew he was lying, she un-looped the scarf from around her neck inspecting the large droplets of black on the white fabric. When she pulled back she raised an eyebrow, showing that she was annoyed by the fact he was trying to mask his pain. But, she knew why Jackson was doing this, he wanted to prove himself to Derek.

    "If something's wrong, I need to know." Derek told Jackson, circling the teenager. "You're with me now."

    "Wait – with you?" Jackson repeated, arching an eyebrow. "Me with..." he pointed to himself before letting out a forced chuckle. "...with you? What am I, your little pet? I mean, just because you gave me the bite doesn't mean I' m part of your little wolf pack. I'm sorry, but to be honest, you don't exactly show outstanding leadership qualities."

    "Is that so?" Derek asked, grinning at Jackson's arrogance.

    "Look, I've got my own agenda. Which doesn't involve running around the woods at night, howling at the moon with you and McCall, okay?" Derek cut Jackson off by pushing on his cheek so that he was facing the mirror directly – being able to fully see what Derek and Carter were seeing. Jackson gasped in disbelief when he saw the black blood oozing out of his ears. Carter backed away from Jackson until she hit Derek's chest. "What is it? What's happening?"

    "Body's fighting the bite," Derek announced, eyeing Jackson carefully.

    "Why?"

    Derek grabbed Carter's wrist, tugging her back as he slowly receded away from Jackson. "I don't know."

    "What does it mean?" Jackson demanded, turning around to see that Derek had moved Carter to where she was standing behind his back, out of Jackson's reach. The black liquid was flooding out of his ears and trailing down his neck and beginning to flow out of his nose again. "What does it mean?"

○ ○ ○

    Walking through the woods definitely hadn't been on the extremely short list of things that Carter enjoyed to-do-in-her-free-time list. And, most of all, she definitely didn't feel like tripping through the woods with a freshly-turned werewolf, and that said werewolf's best friend. Obviously, Carter was having a brilliant time with Scott McCall and the eventual Stiles Stilinski, seeing as though he was in after school detention, as they moved toward the funeral for the homicidal bitch that burnt almost her entire family alive.

    "Scott, my older brother may be a werewolf, but that doesn't mean I have the ability of supernatural speed. So, can you do me a favor and slow down?" Carter all but hissed, jogging forward a bit in order to grab the boy's shoulder to jerk him back. The werewolf turned around like he suddenly remembered that she was actually there.

    "Oh, sorry."

    They were just reaching the end of the tree line, and they could already see the cemetery and the long line of paparazzi being held back by the police barriers. Carter knew that it was a pretty big story, the Hale House Fire finally being solved after six long years.

    "Let's go behind the statue," Scott said, pointing toward one of the stone statues that was big enough to hide them both – and eventually Stiles when he was released from Mr. Harris' detention. Carter nodded and they ran toward it, crouching down as that no one in the immediate vicinity would notice them, especially Sheriff Stilinski or any of the Argents. The last thing they needed was for Allison's mother, Victoria, to stab them in their temples with her heel.

    Upon the crowd of flashing cameras and scribbling pens was a young teenage boy that seemed to stand out against the group of adult reporters. Matt Daehler, a strange teenager that basically took pictures of everyone at the school. He lurked around places that reeked of popularity, rather it be a high school sporting event or, as it seemed, a funeral.

    The two teens watched as Matt leant down, going under one of the police barriers that were supposed to keep everyone away from the Argent family. Matt immediately started taking pictures of Chris Argent's daughter, Allison, until an older figure began looming over the boy. Instantly, Matt's camera was yanked from his hands by an older man in a crispy new suit. The two seemed to bicker back and forth for a few moments before the older man took the memory card out of Matt's camera, completely breaking it in half with his fingers.

    There was an awkward exchange between Chris and the old man – exchange between son and father, but Carter had been too far away to hear anything while Scott seemed to be tapping into his supernaturally heightened hearing as he leaned further against the statue they were hiding behind.

    When a hand suddenly landed itself on her shoulder, Carter nearly fell onto the ground and out of the crouched position she placed herself in. Both herself and Scott whipped their heads around to see that Stiles was now placing himself behind them. "Yo."

    "Who the hell is that?"

    And as if they heard the question fall from Stiles' mouth, all four Argents turned to look toward the statue where the trio was hiding. Instantly, Scott leaned back, his shoulders smacking into Carter's chest causing her to fall back onto her butt.

    Scott glanced between Stiles and Carter. "He's definitely an Argent."

    Stiles stared ahead, "Hey, you know, maybe they're just here for the funeral. I mean, what if they're the non-hunting side of the family. There could be non-hunting Argents. That's possible, right?"

    "I know what they are. They're reinforcements."

    Scott opened his mouth to agree with the youngest Hale, but before he could, a hand was grabbing ahold of the back of his jacket, not only pulling him off the ground but hauling up Stiles as well. Carter noticed the encounter, her eyes widening as she slowly raised to see that Sheriff Stilinski had a tight grip on Scott and Stiles.

    "The three of you – unbelievable," Stilinski stated through gritted teeth, glaring between the three teenagers. "Now, pick up my tie."

    Stiles picked up a beige tie that Carter hadn't even noticed. "Got it – sorry. I know, I'm supposed to ask."

    Carter never imagined that she would be sitting in the back of a police car smooched between Stiles Stilinski and Scott McCall after only having met them that morning. She completely blamed Derek for her involvement. He was the one forcing her to befriend Scott, and befriending him meant that when they had gotten caught at Kate Argent's funeral, she would be receiving the same consequences.

    She really needed to get out of that car so she could go and warn Derek about the Argents.

    She began to shift around awkwardly, but stopped when she felt a hand just below her butt. She looked over at Stiles, his face flushed and quickly moved his hand. A sly smile appeared on her lips as Scott snickered. Stiles opened his mouth to apologize but was cut off by the voice coming through Sheriff Stilinski's radio.

    "Four-one-five Adam."

    All three of the teenagers' ears perked up and they leaned forward slightly – waiting for Stiles' dad to respond. "I didn't copy that. Did you say four-one-five Adam?"

    Carter, having no previous knowledge about police-codes, turned to look expectantly at Stiles with her dark eyebrows raised. "Disturbance in a car," Stiles whispered to her and Scott.

    "They were taking a heart attack victim. D.O.A. But on the way to the hospital, something hit them."

    "Wha – hit...hit the ambulance?"

    "Copy that. I'm standing in front of it right now. Something got in the back. There's blood everywhere. And I mean everywhere."

    "All right, unit four, what's your twenty?" Sheriff asked, while Stiles seemed to be gravitating toward his father – it was as though Stiles was a planet and his father was the Sun.

      "Route five and post. I swear, I've never seen anything like this."

    And that was when Stiles grabbed Carter's forearm, pulling her out of the car with Scott filing out right behind her. The three of them quickly ran into the woods, stumbling through the mud and dodging trees, determination to get to the scene of the crime was burning through their bodies.

    Darkness quickly began to take over the sky, and by the time they arrived at the ambulance, Carter was seriously considering ditching their asses and moving back to Canada. I've been here all of two days, and I'm already getting drug into this mess, she thought as they took refuge behind a sharp rise in the earth that was covered with dirt and leaves.

    The back end of the ambulance had been ripped open, revealing a man lying upon a gurney with his chest ripped apart. Blood covered the inside of the vehicle, from floor to ceiling. Carter's stomach churned at the thought of an innocent girl eating someone else's flesh. Shaking her head, trying to clear away the thought and images that were appearing, she turned to look at Scott and they just stared at each other until Stiles spoke.

    "What the hell is Lydia doing?" Stiles asked, frowning at the scene.

    Scott slowly shook his head in disbelief. "I don't know."

    "What kept you from doing that? Was it Allison?"

    "I hope so."

    Carter frowned at the mention of Allison. She couldn't help the jealousy that surged through her at the thought of Allison being Scott's anchor. And the way her chest ached caused her to fumble with her fingers anxiously, desperately trying to distract herself.

    "Do you need to get closer?" Stiles questioned reluctantly, obviously feeling uncomfortable with the entire situation.

    Carter watched as Scott's head tilted up ever so slightly, and he began to sniff the air, taking in long deep breaths, trying to catch the scent that was tied to the ambulance accident. Scott turned to look at them, shaking his head. "No, I got it."

    When Scott started to move away from them, prepared to follow the scent until he found the source, Stiles left arm quickly shot out, reached across Carter and grabbed Scott's shoulder. Scott halted and softly looked at his best friend. "Just...I just need you to find her. All right? Please, just..." Stiles eyes flickered over to the ambulance before he continued: "...just find her."

    The weakness in Stiles voice pained Scott. Scott's expression softened even more as he nodded. "I will."

○ ○ ○

    Just like it had been at the funeral, it didn't take long for Sheriff Stilinski to find his son and Derek's sister hiding in a not-so-clever hiding spot. Carter stood awkwardly next to Stiles as the Sheriff scolded his son for sneaking onto a crime scene and getting an innocent girl involved in his and Scott's schemes.

    Carter eventually shut them out, allowing Stiles and his father to seemingly talk in private. Her head was circling in all directions for any sign of Scott emerging from the tree line, but was surprised when her eyes landed on a pale – naked – girl with strawberry-blonde hair emerging from the woods.

    Stiles seemed to notice as well, because he soon shouted out to the distraught girl: "Lydia?"

    Carter could tell that Lydia was shaking, even from the distance between them. Her arms were shaking as she desperately tried to cover up her breasts. Her strawberry blonde hair was tangles and had leaves and small twigs intertwined in the locks, she also had dirty that was moderately staining her entire body.

    "Well..." Lydia replied, her voice severely hoarse. "Is anyone going to get me a coat?" she asked, removing her arms from her chest and revealed the private flesh to everyone on the scene.

    Carter quickly covered her eyes, but Stiles was the first one to move and attempted to take the jacket his father was wearing off of his shoulders, but clumsy fell to the ground. Carter chuckled, kneeling down next to him and patted his head.

    Sheriff Stilinski scoffed at his son, shrugging off his jacket and walking it over to Lydia, who welcomed the warm with open arms. Carter left Stiles and made her way over to Lydia. She stuck her head out for her to shake and introduced herself, "Hey, I'm Carter Hale. I thought I'd talk to you after everyone got over the shock of you showing up naked."

    Lydia's shoulders bounced slightly as she chuckled. "Well, I'm Lydia Martin. Nice to officially meet you."

    And the two of them instantly hit it off, and soon, Carter found herself sitting next to Lydia delicately pulling the leaves and twigs out of her hair as Carter explained what had happened while she was off running through the woods.

○ ○ ○

not edited

HERE IT IS! THE REWRITTEN VERSION OF THE OPENING CHAPTER OF THE FIRST BOOK IN THE "SILENT GUARDIAN SERIES" in the process of rewriting this book, i have decided that i am going to be making several changes, but the main plot/storyline won't change.