Malia was confused. She knew Beacon Hills like the back of her hand, er, well, her paw after years as a coyote. This was not Beacon Hills, and what she gathered from eavesdropping on the townsfolk was that she was in a place called Mystic Falls. She heard some mumbo jumbo about a prison world and the nineties but to be honest, she just kind of thought people were crazy... because after everything she had been through, she still thought people were nuts. Humans, werewolves, hunters, banshees, they were all their own brand of crazy... Malia included. But in her own twisted mindset, she was a little less crazy then everyone else. She was normal crazy.
People watching had become one of the coyote’s favorite hobbies, and that’s what she was doing now... watching someone. She was observing, studying, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. Usually, Malia was pretty sneaky. If she didn’t want to be seen or heard, she would tiptoe and could be decently stealth... So how she ended up knocking over an entire shelf full of stuff was beyond her, but Malia instinctively jumped away from the mess, hands thrown up in a defensive gesture. “I didn’t do it,” she lied confidently before grimacing.
