Stiles closes his eyes for a moment, then draws in a deep breath, attempting to steel his nerves against whatever it is Scott has to say to him this time. He follows him out of the motel lobby and stands just outside the door, snow crunching beneath his boots. He ignores the cold chill that works its way down his spine, and the goosebumps that crop up on his arms beneath his light jacket. It definitely isn't a warm enough coat to be outside in the snow for long, but for now he can handle it.
He stuffs his hands into his jacket pockets, watching Scott for a moment before turning his gaze to the treeline in the distance, scanning it with a wary eye, but there's nothing there.