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They had finally taken a vacation, bringing Stiles to Poland to see his mothers home had started out as a great plan.
He loved watching his boy relearning a language from his childhood, being dragged from a historical monument, to a museum, to a coffee shop, to a little hidden market. Travelling old cobblestone roads and finding little towns that made it feel like they had stepped through a time warp.
They had travelled a great distance from any of the popular tourist sites as Stiles tried to find people and places mentioned in his Mothers diaries.
This forested area they are in now was mentioned on a page in a diary from her childhood that Stiles found at the very back of an old trunk in his fathers attic. It is covered in doodles of a waterfall and flowers and what looked like tiny dragons. Claudia’s notes just spoke of the smell and feel of the woods.
Peter had followed as Stiles climbed over an old wooden gate with a couple of old worn wooden signs, with only a few letters visible. IE WCHO SMOKI
They had found a waterfall that matched the drawing from the diary. It was a little more worn and surrounded by a lot more growth. The area had obviously once been a small picnic area.
Peter had found an old wooden bench made from a large tree and made himself comfortable in the sunlight while Stiles had wandered off to check out the area more.
The sun was warm on his face, the water sounds were soothing, and there were no strong scents in the area. Something about these woods soothed Peter and he allowed himself to flow with the feeling.
He can hear Stiles in the distance and he is moving closer. He’s muttering and laughing and Peter thinks at first that he has perhaps met someone out along the path.
Scenting the air he recognizes Stiles usual scent of ozone and warm vanilla, but along with it is the soft scent of smoke.
Cracking his eyes open he watches as Stiles steps between the trees, something in his arms wrapped in his hoodie.
“Stiles? What is that in your arms?” Peter slowly stands as the smell of smoke and something wild comes from his mates hoodie.
“Um Peter, I didn’t steal her I promise.” Stiles stops a few steps away. “She found me, she crashed out of a tree right on my head.” Stiles looks down and coos and holds the bundle closer.
“Sweetheart?’ Peter steps closer, his eyes going huge.
“JESUS CHRIST STILES IS THAT A DRAGON?” Peter’s eyes flash.
“Um.. ya maybe.” Stiles pulls the bundle tighter to his chest. “Don’t yell, you scared her.”
In a hushed but worried tone Peter questions “Stiles, sweetheart, mate and husband of mine. How are you so calm? And tell me her Mother isn’t looking for her?”
Stiles starts bobbing and swaying like people do with babies. He mumbles something in English and then a word in Polish.
“Stiles?” Peter growls.
“Well the parts of the sign did say Keep and the Dragons?” He looks up with a pout. “I mean Mom drew dragons? I didn’t really think we would find a real dragon, Peter?”
Peter sighs. “Jesus”
The bundle in Stiles arms starts to shift and move, trying to get out of the loose wrapped clothe chirping and singing.
Suddenly the sun seems to dim and the wind picks up, Peter and Stiles' eyes both look up to the sky.
“Stiles I swear to god if I die today!”