37. Werewolf on Steroids

Gwen’s POV

“Hey, have you…have you seen Stefan?” I ask Hanna, joining her on the watchtower of the old pack house. The watchtower is at the back of the left side of the house, and it seems to have survived the raid for the most part. The wooden stairs leading to the top are a little rickety and could do with some work before being put to use again.

Hanna puts out the cigarette in her hand–this is the first time I’ve seen her smoke–and crushes the stub beneath her boot.

“You smoke?” I ask, sidling up next to her. The platform at the top is box-like, with a surrounding walkway shielded by wooden rails. She’s leaning against a corner stilt, and since it isn’t giving way under her weight, I become confident in the strength of the structure and prop myself against the railing.

“Rarely,” she says, rubbing her hands along her arms. “Fuck, it’s cold out here.”

“Is it?” I ask, frowning. I’m not feeling the chill, and she’s the one wearing a pull-neck sweater beneath a denim jacket.

“Ca