The drive to Redwood National Park was a tense one. Sheriff Stilinski, while still highly skeptical, had a grim sense of duty to get Scott safely on what seemed a hazardous and fanciful field trip. He followed Coralia's example in his cruiser, Damien and still recuperating Scott with her in a black, sleek SUV that appeared to vibrate with inner energy. The tension inside the cars was heavy with unasked questions and the implications of the disclosures in the warehouse.
Scott, his senses still on edge and volatile, continued to look at Damien, a mix of fascination and fear in his gaze. He could feel the underlying power vibrating beneath Damien's flesh, a resonance that was both comforting and clearly separate from his own werewolf powers.
"So. Lycans," Scott started cautiously, filling the silence in Coralia's SUV. "Are you. stronger than normal werewolves?
Coralia looked at Damien before responding. "The potential exists, Scott. A pureblood Lycan, completely awakened, has strength, speed, and senses beyond those of a normal werewolf. Their control over their shifting is more refined as well.
Damien said nothing, taking all of this in, the fragments of his identity falling into place one by one. The raw strength he'd sensed in that quick fight with Peter, the automatic motions – it was all starting to add up.
"But you mentioned 'pureblood' and 'fully awakened,'" Scott said, his forehead creased. "What does that imply for Damien?"
"Damien's awakening is new and… special," Coralia said, her eyes on the road. "His human side was stronger for many years. He must learn to accept his Lycan side, to discover his true potential. It will take time and… tutoring."
The drive wound them along corkscrew coastal roads and into the redwood stands, the old trees creating long, mottled shadows that appeared to hold secrets in their colossal trunks. The air cooled, heavy with the smell of wet earth and pine. There was an aura of ancient power here, a primordial force that spoke to the awakening Lycan within Damien.
As they moved further into the park, Coralia cut them loose from the highways, onto a little-used trail that twisted through tangled underbrush. At last, they came to a secluded clearing, concealed deep in a group of giant redwoods. In the middle of the clearing stood a tiny, stone cabin, its walls draped in moss, merging perfectly with the environment. A sense of age-old peacefulness clung to the site.
"This was my father's refuge," Coralia murmured, her voice barely above a whisper as she looked over the clearing. "Where the power of the external world, and certain. negative energies, cannot so readily intrude."
Sheriff Stilinski exiting his cruiser and looking up into the big trees couldn't help but be amazed, even for his cynic. There was something unbeatable in this location, a sense of being cut off from the rest of the everyday world.
As they made themselves comfortable in the rustic cabin, Coralia started teaching him the fundamentals of Damien's Lycan nature, the lineage history, and how to initiate control over his transformations. She talked about the full moon link, the enhanced senses, the inborn strength and speed. She cautioned him against the dangers as well – the loss of control, the savagery, the potential vulnerability to certain conditions.
Simultaneously, Sheriff Stilinski, too shaken by the unbelievable occurrences to fully process them, made a string of secretive phone calls, allegedly calling in at the station but actually frantically attempting to discover any rational reason behind what was transpiring. Stiles, in Beacon Hills, was an enraged whirlwind of frantic study, scanning dusty books and arcane websites, convinced that he was on the cusp of discovering the final weapon against the Darach.
As dusk fell on the redwood forest, Coralia started Damien's first training. With Scott and bewildered Sheriff Stilinski watching, Damien tried his first voluntary shift. It was awkward, agonizing, his body twisting in ways that came close to being hurtful, the features of the wolf breaking through in a jumbled and uncontrolled way. The strength was there, in no way questionable, but the control evaded him.
Then, out of the darkness at the perimeter of the glade, came a low growl. Peter Hale stepped from the darkness of the towering redwoods, his red eyes blazing with hunting intent. He had tracked them.
"Well, well," Peter sneered, his eyes scanning the small group. "Look what the cat brought home. A family reunion?" His eyes fell on Damien, a mirthless smile twisting his lips. "And what's this? A little wolf cub looking for his paws?"
The sanctuary had been invaded. The darkness of the outside world had penetrated to the core of the ancient forest. And the tenuous hope of a safe haven was smashed as the killer stare of the Alpha descended upon them. The training had just started, and the struggle for survival was about to intensify again.