Derek saw Stiles raise a fist and was about to grab it and stop him when he paused, recognizing Derek.
"Keep your voice down," he hissed, going to the back end to peer out and see if anyone was coming down that way or if it was a viable escape route. "I don't know what is going on, but it's either a sick joke or we are really in trouble, so let's err on the side of caution. Come on, this way, and stay behind me!"
He led Stiles out and down another path between the tents, picking his way over pegs and spikes. "We have to get to the barrier so I can apparate you home - were you here with anyone, shit, how are we going to get everyone out of this." He could see flashes of light from curses and he could hear screaming and crying and smell blood and pain and, worst of all, death. They were killing people. Here. Now. Derek was breathing hard and trying not to puke, trying not to let his thoughts drift back to a summer day with smoke on the wind and eerie silence where there should've been laughter and joy. He had to stay present. For Stiles.