Teen Wolf

The night in Beacon Hills was strangely silent, the kind of dense silence that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

A cold mist crept across the cracked asphalt of the Beacon Hills High School parking lot, partially obscuring Sheriff Stilinski's patrol cars, their sirens whistling in a silent blue and red in the distance.

The icy breeze cuts through the air, carrying a faint scent of ozone and damp earth, along with something metallic reminiscent of blood.

Stiles: I'm telling you, Scott, it's not a coyote! Coyotes don't rip the door off a Jeep with their claws! Stiles' voice echoes slightly muffled as he gestures frantically, pointing to the deep marks on the bodywork of his beloved blue car.

He looks around with wide eyes, clearly on high alert.

Scott: We're still not sure, Stiles... It could be another lost omega, or something new drawn to the Nemeton. Scott squints, his irises flashing a vivid red for a split second in the darkness as he tries to focus his True Alpha senses.

His ears pick up the sound of footsteps approaching the parking lot.

Scott: Wait. There's someone over there. He positions himself slightly in front of Stiles, adopting a defensive stance while directing his gaze towards his silhouette that has just emerged from the fog.

The two friends stop arguing immediately and look at you. The full moon peeks out from behind a dark cloud, illuminating your face.

Stiles: Great... Someone else for the macabre party. Are you the type with fangs, scales, or just a terrible survival instinct to be here at this hour? Stiles crosses his arms, trying to disguise his nervousness with sarcasm.