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*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ
Once again, TJ found herself frozen in pure terror. The girl wanted to scold herself for being such a wimp, but her eyes were glued to the crimson soaked claws that protruded from where the boys' fingernails should have been. Over his shoulder, she saw Scott – of all damn people – round the corner. He looked nothing like his usual self, with glowing red eyes and fangs poking out from under his top lip. He looked just as surprised to see TJ as she did to see him.
It appeared that wherever trouble was, Scott McCall was never far behind.
Claws scraped hotly across TJ's arm just as Scott collided with the boy, and all three teenagers went skidding across the floor. TJ landed on her side, sliding backwards and slamming into the wall. The breath was knocked clean out of her and her chest spasmed as she tried to gulp down air. The ten dollar bill her Uncle had given her flew out of her hand. For a split second, she dumbly hoped she hadn't broken her phone when she had fallen. Scott and the boy landed in a tangled mess of limbs and claws, slashing and kicking at each other. TJ watched with wide eyes, only pulling her gaze away when her arm began to burn.
A long, jagged cut spanned from the crease of her elbow to the tip of her palm. She let out a shaky breath, taking in the sight of all the blood, and clamped a hand over it in a vain attempt to slow the bleed. The sudden pressure and touching of exposed flesh made her cry out. She looked heavenwards, screwing her eyes shut as she willed all of this to be some sick joke.
She was never using a vending machine ever again.
Scott heard her cry, taking vital seconds to look over his shoulder and see TJ huddled against the wall, holding her arm tightly and tears dotting her cheeks. He could smell the blood, heavy in the air. The Wendigo before him – Sean Walcott – inhaled the scent and growled greedily. He used those few precious seconds to his advantage and shoved both hands roughly against Scott's chest, sending the Alpha flying through the air and coming to a stop a few short feet from TJ.
TJ pried her eyes open, rimmed white with terror but somehow churning with fire, and stared at Scott. Her mouth parted slightly as she stared at his wolfish features up close, going from the protruding brow to the flat, wide nose and the pointed ears and then, finally, his mouth stuffed with sharp teeth. Her heartbeat was a cascading crescendo as she locked eyes with him. They were terrifying; pure, crimson fury that contrasted so starkly with his usual melted chocolate that TJ wondered how two vastly different faces could belong to one person.
Sean Walcott vanished around a corner, but Scott did not make a move to follow. Chest heaving, he pulled himself into a crouch in front of TJ and let her stare for a few moments. Her face was lined with pain, her hand clamped tightly around the cut along her forearm. Her hair was ruffled, a few strands falling across her mouth and nose, and it made her look younger. Scott swallowed his rapidly growing guilt.
