Facing Reality

Stiles blinked and looked around. He appeared to be standing in a clearing in the woods. In the dark. He moved his legs, his arms, took stock of his body. He seemed to be able to move all of his limbs, even if he couldn't see too well in the new moon's gloomy light. So far, this was going infinitely better than the last time he'd woken up in a strange place. Rated for suicide.