Origins ➣ Stilinski [1]

4 | FOUR

CHAPTER FOUR
❝ adrenaline ❞

Aurora was ninety-nine point nine percent sure she was dreaming.

    She felt like she was trapped in one of those terrifying nightmares, the one where you have to run, run till your lungs burst, but you can't make your body move fast enough. Her legs seemed to move slower and slower as she fought her way through the dense forest, but the sound of gunfire didn't cease or slow. With relentless, uncaring force, the shots rang profusely through the air signaling the end — the end of everything.

    But this was no dream, this was a soon-to-be reality, and, unlike a nightmare, she wasn't running for her own life; she was racing to save something infinitely more precious. Her own life and safety meant little to her that night.

    Blade had said there was a good chance that we would all die there. Perhaps the outcome would be different if she weren't trapped by the never ending darkness; blood oozing out of the gaping wound on her shoulder.

    And she couldn't run fast enough.

    So it hadn't mattered to her that she was surrounded by their dangerous enemies. As the gunshots began to amplify, vibrating under the soles of her sluggish feet, she knew it was too late — blood red eyes breaking through the blackness in the distance.

    She felt the fading life source dwindle into nothing as she stumbled into the clearing; saw the silhouette of Death hovering over her. He pressed his icy, white lips against her blood and dirt covered cheek—

Aurora woke with a start — her eyelids popping open wide — and gasped. Dull gray light, the familiar light of an overcast morning, took the place of the infinite blackness in her dream...her vision.

    Just a dream, she reminded herself. It was only a dream. She took a deep breath, and then jumped again when her alarm went off. Only a dream, but prophetic enough in one way, at least. Last night she had found out that her best friend was, indeed, a werewolf.

    She had handled the news well enough, but now it had hit. The feeling was even worse than she feared it would be. She could feel it — feel the impending doom awaiting them in the future. Every day they would get closer, but this was different, worse. The news had physically made her feel older; like she was carrying burdens from beyond her sixteen years.

      When she went to brush her teeth, she was almost surprised that her face in the mirror hadn't changed. She started at herself, looking for some sign of miraculous aging on her ivory skin. The only signs of age were on her forehead, though, and she knew that if she could manage to relax, they would disappear. But, now, she knew that she never would. Her eyebrows stayed lodged in a worried line over her anxious green eyes as she stared at her smooth shoulder.