[It's not so much what he sees as what he smells. While some might have been able to tune it out, someone in Stiles' position can't, as the craving that he's been fighting to keep at bay all evening bubbles up again. The copper tang in the air bypasses his nose and rests heavily on his tongue, reminding him just how much that human food he was trying to eat earlier wasn't going to cut it.
His eyes are drawn to the tree line as the evening wind brushes past his face.]
no subject
His eyes are drawn to the tree line as the evening wind brushes past his face.]