Void (The Youngest, Book 3.B.)

Chapter 三 (B)

Scott tore through the dark woods, his heart pounding as he wove in and out of the trees. He had to find her. The coyote, the shapeshifter—it was Malia Tate. She wasn't just a creature to be hunted down; she was a girl who needed their help. But the forest was vast, the shadows deep, and Scott found it almost impossible to get a fix on her. He couldn't focus his senses the way he needed to; his mind was too fogged, his control too unsteady. He was practically running blind.

Not far from where Scott searched, Stiles had wandered off, Kylie following closely behind. Stiles had been holding her hand, keeping her close as they combed through the darkness. Kylie's eyes darted around, sharp for any movement. Then she noticed something—a subtle rustle in the bushes. She tugged at Stiles' hand, pointing towards it.

Before they could investigate further, Scott's roar echoed through the woods, cutting through the night air, sending a chill down Stiles' spine. He looked down at Kylie, who squeezed his hand, her eyes wide. They needed to find Scott, and quickly.

The two boys ran through the darkened forest, each one chasing after the sound of the other. When they finally met, they nearly collided, letting out startled shouts until they realized they had found each other.

"I think I found something," Stiles said, breathing heavily, his eyes wide. He glanced down at Kylie, who looked back up at him with a small nod. "Well, Kylie did."

"So did I," Scott replied, his own breaths coming out in ragged pants, his eyes darting around, searching the shadows.

Together, they followed Kylie as she led them toward the scent she had picked up. They pushed through the underbrush, moving deeper into the woods until they found it—a small, hidden cave, almost swallowed by the forest around it. Stiles led the way, ducking low to enter, with Scott close behind. Kylie stood at the entrance, her small form silhouetted against the night as she held the little doll she had found earlier, her knuckles white from her tight grip.

"It's a coyote den," Stiles murmured, the dim light of their flashlights bouncing off the scattered objects strewn across the cave floor.

Scott shook his head slightly, correcting him. "Werecoyote."

The words hung heavy in the air. A werecoyote. Another layer of the supernatural, another form of shapeshifter, one who had lost control and left devastation in her wake. Malia wasn't just another creature; she was a person—a scared, lost girl—trapped in her other form.

Stiles moved carefully, his flashlight beam landing on something familiar. He reached down, picking up a small, dusty jacket. He held it up, his eyes going wide as recognition set in. "You see this? This is Malia's," he said, his voice hushed. "It's the same one she was wearing in the photo."

Kylie, still standing by the entrance, clutched her doll tighter, her eyes darting between the boys and the cave's interior.

Scott looked around, taking in the other human items scattered across the den. Jackets, shoes, small trinkets—a patchwork of remnants from another life. The realization hit him hard. This was Malia's home. Or, at least, it was her attempt to recreate one.

Scott dropped his gaze, guilt sinking in. "We shouldn't be here," he said softly, shaking his head.

"What do you mean?" Stiles asked, looking over at his friend, confusion etched across his face.

"She's not going to come back now," Scott explained. His voice was filled with a sadness that weighed heavily on him. "We just invaded her home. Our scent's going to be everywhere now."

Stiles' face fell as he processed Scott's words. He looked around the cave, at all the scattered pieces of Malia's human life. "If she's not going to come back here," he said slowly, his brow furrowing, "then where is she going to go?"