The roads are deserted, Kira half expects a tumbleweed to breeze through in the middle of the road. That'd probably be too normal for her to handle at this point. She'd be much more prepared to see a stock pile of dead werewolves or a camp of hunters with their throats torn out, the air smelling sweet like decay.
She’s been alone on the road for awhile. The supernatural vs. human/hunter thing got out of hand quicker than she anticipated. Or anybody anticipated, if she’s honest. It was slow boil enough for her to get caught off guard when hunters started going house to house --
Her mother knew what was up. Swore up and down that it was a repeat of history - just at a larger scale. Kira was naive enough to deny it, her dad too human to even comprehend the reality of it. Her mother promised that they’d meet up back at the house once Beacon Hills was clear from the hunter’s sweep. Kira goes back every week and doesn’t travel too far. As far as she knows neither her father or her mother were able to make it back home.
She’s kept herself off the radar. She’s avoided any conflicts or any alliances from other supernatural creatures she’s come across, too high wired to trust what anybody says nowadays. The war has gone on long enough for there to be a fracture in the two sides. There are hunters out there who believe that the supernatural can be saved; have come up with some kind of correctional camp - other hunters want to kill on sight.
The supernatural have turned on one another in order to be contracted safety from other hunters, some have decided to just kill every human on sight, despite not knowing if said human was actually a hunter or just an innocent.
Kira knows that it’s better to stand alone and stay alive.
She keeps to her routes around Beacon Hills, doesn’t stay at her home because it’s likely it was already marked on the hunters radar as a supernatural resident. The most problems she’s had is with other supernatural creatures and, although deadly within their own right, usually just leave her heavily wounded if she gets caught with the wrong one. They don’t often go for the kill unless they’re accompanied by hunters - hunters, on the other hand, have weapons that are designed to kill.
Kira has lived this long enough to recognize the lesser evil.
She hears them before she sees them. Well, she smells the rotting flesh of the Wendigo, hears its screech and then sees its bloody maws chomp down on an unsuspecting victim.
A weapon yielding victim.
Kira blames the routine of the apocalypse for assuming him human/hunter. They’re the only ones that bother with weapons.
She hangs back, observing while wrinkling her nose in disgust as the wendigo unhinges its jaw to release the body and letting it hit the ground limply before it heads back to wherever it crawled out from. Kira makes a note to avoid the South end of Beacon Hills territory. She also makes a note that the male human was not killed as food. The wendigo hadn’t even bothered dismembering him to keep as a snack -- which means that it’s already full up or it’s expecting more arrivals.
So definitely avoiding the South end, then.
Kira huffs at the cruelty of it all and is about to turn back for the night when the figure moves unexpectedly. She tenses and feels her eyes shift fast enough to make her ears ring. Without thinking she steps out from her hiding space, prepared to finish him off. She may not pick sides, but she’s not ignorant enough to let an active hunter go loose. The last thing anybody needs is a rejuvenated sense of bloodlust. Or for the wendigo’s position to be given away. As repulsive as they are, Kira is kind of glad for its unofficial position as a guard dog on the Southern borders.
She only gets as far as her claws snagging in his shirt before she notices his wounds are a lot less life threatening then they were minutes before.
“What? I- I thought you were a human!”
“Don’t trust everything you see.”
Kira stops to assess and backs off a step. She notices for the first time that he is, in fact, not human at all. He’s too unblemished. Opening her senses a little more and digging around the sweet stench of the wendigo she gets a hint of what he truly is. Wolf.
She’s surprisingly relieved that there’s still one of those hanging around.
“I’m okay.” It’s a lie, Kira can hear it. The small blip and it makes her breath catch in her throat. Thrown through another loop her eyes divert down towards the man’s chest, wondering if he was pulling a trick. Though usually the trick involves keeping a steady heart when lying - not purposely making it seem like there was a lie to tell. Everyone’s gotten so good at lying.
“I’m Kira,” she says, staring intensely at this new stranger.
“You’re a werewolf.”
“You’re a kitsune.”
Kira spares Boyd a quick grin, amused despite herself with the back and forth that she hadn’t realized she missed. She doesn’t remember the last time she had a pointless conversation.
“You lied to me,” she says, not accusingly.
“No! Don’t be! It’s nice,” she pauses, then amends, “you know what I mean.”
Boyd gives her a shy smiles and a nod, offering his hand. Kira, too dumbfounded, takes it in a firm shake. She very deliberately does not dwell when their hands linger.