Stiles was sick of the ocean by the third day. For the first couple of days, Stiles had stayed topside. Takahiro had accompanied him when he wasn’t working. The two got along very well. Stiles took to Takahiro like a boat to water. They conversed in the Eastern Language so Stiles could strengthen his skills to prepare for his arrival. It would be easier to communicate directly with the Emperor than by use of an interpreter. This would also increase the Emperor’s respect for Stiles.
Dinner that night had been fine. It wasn’t anything extravagant like Stiles had been served in the palace. The meals on the Kitsune reminded Stiles a lot of the meals that he had with Derek and his pack. This ended up sending waves of nostalgia and longing crashing over Stiles. He remembered those weeks in Derek’s little stone cottage before they traveled to Animas. Erica’s bright and sarcastic smile, Boyd’s surprisingly gentle personality, and Isaac bristling like a cat around a dog. Even in that short amount of time he had felt like they had become a second family to him.
Thinking of family made Stiles’ stomach clench painfully. He had only been gone a few days, but he missed everyone back at the palace. Scott had been at the harbor but ultimately hadn’t seen him off. Of course, the stable boy’s mind was more than likely elsewhere. After all, he had a lovely wife back home and they were expecting their first child in the coming months. Stiles had never regretted anything more than he regretted not being able to be there for the child’s birth. Even now, sitting in his quarters on the gently rocking ship, Stiles felt as if he would curl up in to a ball.
“Don’t even worry about it, Stiles!” Scott had assured him with a hardy slap on the back, “Allison and I won’t have any problem having another one!”
“Scott!” Lydia had yelled at him.
Allison was bright red but her smile was dazzling. She covered her mouth as she laughed and shook her head. Scott smiled—the one where his nose crinkled and his eyes shone with happiness—and wrapped his arm around her waist. His palm rested gently on her swollen belly. He nuzzled her forehead with his nose before placing a quick kiss on her lips.
“What a beautiful wife I have,” he murmured against her skin.
She beamed up at him, “And what a silly husband I have.”
Stiles stared at the blank piece of parchment before him. He sighed heavily and rose from his chair. Dragging his feet, he made it to his bed and flopped face first on to the stiff mattress. The piece smelled of salt and wood. He wanted it to smell like the earth just after a hard rain. He wanted to be back in Beacon. He wanted to be surrounded by the people who loved him. He longed to see his best friend’s first child enter this world. Stiles wanted to be back in that little stone cottage. He wanted Derek there with him and really make sure he was alive. Stiles felt a pain in his chest and he grabbed his goose feather pillow. He squeezed it so tightly to himself he was sure that it would burst at the stitching.
The three wolves halted in their running. Their chests were heaving and their tongues hung slightly from their mouths. The wolves were reddish brown, tan nearly blonde, and a dark grey wolf that was bigger than the other two. The tan wolf had a pack on her back in a sling that looked as if it was made especially to be worn by a wolf. Their ears twitched this way and that, attempting to catch a sound. The reddish brown wolf put its muzzle in the air and scented the air. He whuffed and shook his head slightly. Nothing. The dark grey wolf nodded slightly and moved its left forepaw to continue forward. He whimpered slightly before limping forward and eventually falling. The tan wolf turned her head quickly towards him before her shape began to uncurl and elongate.
“Derek!” She yelled, her form now human. The reddish brown wolf quickly followed her lead and went from shaking his tail to rolling his head and shoulders. Erica knelt next to the wolf and gently put her palm on his shoulder.
