If everything hurt before, it all hurts even more now. There’s a new hole in her already ragged jeans, and her palms are skinned now. Just finding the energy to move is hard; she’s so tired. She manages to force her eyes open, tears seeping from under the lashes, and look at the stranger teen, but darkness is wavering at the edges of her vision.
She starts to shake her head, starts to lift her palms and show him, and the blackness overwhelms her.
She’s all scratched up now, worse than her already poor attire that she had before. The unfamiliar girl slowly scrambles to an upright position, blood slightly pouring from her wounds. Stiles groans, unable to even response or help her, stress pouring into his veins. The teen picks her up, carrying her in the direction of the hospital, planning on getting something there.
It’s the only place he thinks he can go, hoping strongly that Ms. McCall will be there in some form of way.
She finds her way back to the surface of consciousness just a few moments later. She looks up at the stranger, surprised but grateful, and shares that feeling with him. They aren’t going in the same direction as they were, but she still can’t sense the hunter. So that’s good. Wincing at the pain of the scrapes, she gets her arms around the stranger’s neck, to help him carry her. She’s pretty sure if he puts her down she’s just going to fall over again.