The hunter reaches out to clasp Stiles’ shoulder, and that’s when he notices that she’s almost wrapped around the tall teenager. The hunter’s mouth compresses, ends turning down. “You’ve been contaminated,” he says, sounding resigned. “I’m going to have to take you both into custody. Come on down to the station with me.”
And now that he’s almost touched his shoulder, Stiles moves away immediately. Then he uses a curious word, “contaminated.” It’s a strange word to describe a simple touch so he turns his head slightly, looking at her with sharp eyes. “What does he mean by contaminated?”
She shakes her head, red strands sliding around her face. Even if she could speak, she’s not sure she could find the right words to explain the prejudice contained in the hunter’s use of the word ‘contaminated’.
The hunter gestures for Stiles to come along. “You’re going to have to come with me, now, both of you. Come on. That’s an order. Down to the police station.”