STEREK WEEK 2016: Day 3 - Myths and Legends, Fairytales and Folklore

Sterek AU: Stiles hid behind the half rotten stump covered in moss and a fern fanning around it like a peacock’s feathers. He sat down, crossing his legs just a few inches from the rushing water, hoping he’s far enough now. He wanted to be angry, but this wasn’t anything out of the ordinary and mustering any anger seemed like to much work anyway. Hiding was overall much simpler. Stiles was used to hiding. 

He was the only male in the history of his kind and no one took that lightly. Dryads were simply never males. Ever. Until he happened, that is. Stiles knew for sure some wanted him to be killed right after he was born. His mother told him it was only a pure luck the Lord of the Woods was around at the time and forbade it. But it didn’t change anything about the fact that Stiles really wasn’t what he supposed to be. Everyone blamed it on the fact that he was fathered by a human and no one wanted someone like that around.
Well, Scott didn’t mind, but he was Scott. He couldn’t hate anyone if he tried, the pure soul he is. And alright, there were some that didn’t openly despise him, like Allison and… that was pretty much it. Scott and Allison were kind to him. The other dryads mostly ignored him, which wasn’t that bad. Not if the other possibility were satyrs like Jackson who mocked him almost constantly. Scott was the only satyr of the lot worth a damn as far as Stiles was concerned - but Scott was also mostly chasing after Allison on going about his own duties.
So yeah, most of the time Stiles was alone or taking care of his tree. He only had the one. Not like the others. They were gradually given more and more trees to take care about, but not Stiles. Nope. His one tree was all he could ever hope for it seemed.
He sighed again, before berating himself, because so what, it’s their loss! His tree was magnificent, and they should be lucky to have their trees looking half as healthy as his is. Who needs some stupid elders to give him more work? More time for him to do… whatever he wants to. Yes! He so does not need anyone else!
…But it sure gets lonely sometimes. 
“Could you stop huffing and puffing so loudly? You are scaring off all the animals,” a grouchy voice came from the other side of the stream making Stiles startle. He looked up and surely, there he was, frowning as per usual. Stiles was still not sure where to put this one in his categories. He never mocked him or hurt him in any way, but he also wasn’t what Stiles would call friendly. He usually mostly complained that Stiles is too loud, obnoxious, talkative, or all of the above. Which… wasn’t completely untrue. But mostly he seemed to be at least partially as strange as Stiles himself was; with his dark hair but white fur and the broody demeanor so unlike any other satyr Stiles ever met. He didn’t often show up, mostly in late fall or early spring and almost never in summer - Stiles had no idea if the satyr was around in winter because dryads slept during that season.
“Well pardon me I dare to breathe,” Stiles snarked, earning himself an unimpressed glare.
“Don’t you have anything to do? Besides talking to yourself. Way too loudly.”
Now it was Stiles’ turn to look unimpressed. “No. No, I don’t. Don’t act like you don’t know that. Everyone knows I only have one tree to take care of.” Stiles was trying - and failing - not to sound like a sulking child as he said it.
The satyr tilted his head to the side contemplatively and then shrugged, looking completely disinterested but still somehow managing for it to come across as grouchy.
“Stop making my work harder then. I have plenty to do.”
Alright. Stiles was putting this one in the douchebag category.
“Asshole,” Stiles was now the one grouching under his breath but refused to move from his spot. It took him a lot of time to find one this nice and still far enough from the main routes so no one would trip over him accidentally.
He expected to be yelled at, but when he lifted his gaze back up, there was no one around. Stiles blinked and then straightened up to look around, but he was alone again. The broody white satyr disappeared without making a sound. Damn. Stiles hoped he could at least argue with him some more, when he got this worked up already.
Eh, whatever, probably better he couldn’t. Getting beat up by a satyr was never a pleasant thing, and this one looked much stronger than Jackson. And hey, maybe like this there is a chance the satyr is going to talk to him again next time!