Disclaimer: Never mine.

In the Forest, In the Trees

Stiles is 6, and still going by his actual first name - or "sweetheart", when he first sees it. Long strands of what looks like hair - brown and gray - hanging from the fir trees.

"Mommy? What's this? Did someone get their hair caught in the branches?"

It feels too coarse between his fingers to actuallybe hair, but then again, he only knows how his own and his mom's feel. Maybe it's old-people-hair?

His mom walks back towards him, a smile on her lips and her hair - her pretty, soft mom-hair - dancing in the wind.

"That? No, it's not hair, sweetheart. Wanna know a secret?" and she leans down, giving him a just-between-us smile. "It's fur. Werewolf fur."

Stiles gawks, his mouth falling (even more) open, and his eyes going wide. Werewolf fur?

"Werewolves are real? They live here, in Beacon Hills?" and he looks around instinctively, wondering if there are any hiding in the bushes.

"Yes. Most of the time they walk on two legs, looking no different than you and me. But sometimes they just need to run. And sometimes they get caught in the branches, leaving a little fur behind.

"Now, remember: it's a secret. Okay? We don't tell anyone about this. No one. Do you understand?"

"Not even dad?"

She nods. He thinks, hard. You're not supposed to keep secrets from dad. Not just because he's dad, but because he's a deputy. You should always be honest with the law - he's known so for as long as he can remember.

When he tells his mom so, she looks serious.

"Yes, I know. But sometimes, sweetheart, secrets aren't ours to tell. If the werewolves want your dad to know, they will tell him themselves. And besides, they have their own laws, and their own police. So it's okay to not tell him. I promise."

"Okay."

And that's it. They continue their walk - but not until he's taken a little of the fur, putting it in his pocket without his mom seeing - and soon he forgets.

Stiles is 10, and on one of his research trips, trying to distract himself from his mom's illness, when he comes across it again. It's an accident; one link leading to another, and then suddenly!trees.

He hasn't thought about the so-called werewolf fur in years, and it brings a sad smile to his lips. The memory of that day creeps forward, clearer than he would have ever thought, and is followed by others.

His mom always made the world seem like magic. Except there is no magic, no werewolves, and apparently no cure for what ails his mom. (No one tells him, not straight out, but he's neither deaf nor blind, so he knows.)

The thought makes him break down, and cry himself to sleep. That night he dreams of werewolves running through the forest, strong and happy and free. He dreams of his mom running with them.

(Claudia Stilinski passes away the next day.)

Stiles is 16 when the werewolves of Beacon Hills enter his life, and has forgotten all about tufts of fur hanging from trees.

Stiles is 27 the next time he thinks about it. He's walking through the preserve on a clear autumn day, enjoying the peace and thinking about making hot chocolate later, when a high voice cuts through his musings.

"Unca Stil's, unca Stil's! Look! Wha's dat?"

Eric is jumping up and down next to a large tree, looking so much like Scott that it's like traveling through time, and Stiles walks over, smiling.

And then he sees what Eric's pointing at. Long, brown "tufts" of lichen… And the memories flood back.

"Weeeeell.." he says, with a conspiratorial smile. "Wanna know a secret?"

~The End ~

AN: There's a type of tree-growing lichen that looks like coarse hair/fur. As a child I was told it was troll hair, caught in the branches as the trolls ran through the forest. Today, I'm guessing the story would have been werewolf fur, or something like that, and well. Have a ficlet.