It's almost hilarious how much Malia knows she doesn't fit in to this world. She's trying, but it's hard. Making friends is helping, spending time with Derek is helping, but her skin still crawls from time to time with the urge to just flee back to her coyote body, maybe go make a life for herself on the moors somewhere.

None of that stops her from rolling her eyes and looking at him, crossing her arms.

"I know that. But how often are you going to need to talk to me when I'm not there? I'm not—" She stops, sighing.

"I'm not really that useful to the pack."