You take a deep breath, then look at the scene again. You've no way of knowing how long you could have in here, and you're going to need to use all of it.
First, the werewolf. Ripped open. Still alive. The mud around him is churned up from the frantic struggle for his life…and footprints.
You stop, staring at the dirt. Footprints, for certain, made from shoes. You turn, gazing at the immortal remains of Michelle and Sonia. There, too, footprints.
Hundreds of footprints.
Before you can even start to think your next thought, the ground falls out from under you.
You fall, darkness and flames racing past your vision, plummeting downwards—
—until you land, with a hard thump, on the grass.
Sit Up