One by one, your packmates rise from the pavement, legs shaking, many of their faces crumpled with shame. More than one of them approach you, mumbling apologies for their actions before limping away.
Seized by apprehension, you scan the crowd for your friends. Most of the pack have shifted back into human form, and you're able to pick out Dena and Lapu sitting on the opposite sidewalk.
Lapu is staring at the ground, his arms held limply at his sides as Dena talks to him. You spy Jolon as well, for once out of the shadows and helping other wolves to recover their feet, dusting them off and saying a few comforting words before moving on to help another in need. Farther to the east, Bly emerges from the gaping mouth of an alley between two dilapidated apartment buildings. She remains unchanged, her wolf form walking with steady legs despite patches of her jet-black fur that are slick and wet in the bright light of the full moon. Someone else's blood, then?
Bly bares her teeth as you approach, and you briefly consider whether you should be anywhere near her so soon after a feral transformation. Something about her eyes though…a sadness shows in them that her fierce display can't fully hide. Against your better judgment, you close the distance between the two of you, wincing involuntarily when Bly leans forward, her lupine nose still notched with the wrinkles of a fading snarl.
"What do you want from me, Decaarr? There are plenty of others here for you to help. I can take care of myself."
You step forward, undeterred, and Bly falls back against the wall behind her, the red dust of eroded brick rubbing into her fur in a long line. She groans.
"Great. That will be with me for a while," she says, trying in vain to wipe the dust out of the stiff hair covering the back of her lupine form.
"You could always change back?"
Bly shakes her head. "I need to keep my edge right now. To be honest, I think the wolf is the only thing keeping me from losing my shit completely."
Bly grimaces. "I should never have gone to that thing in the first place. Stupid waste of time. And just look at what happened. I try to join a proper ritual with the pack for the first time in years, and this is what happens to me. That'll teach me to try to be part of the community."
"There's no way anyone could have known this would happen, Bly."
"Someone knew. This didn't happen by accident. Ask Jolon. I'm sure he has his suspicions, and he's usually quicker on this stuff than I am—that's why I keep him around." She fingers a dark patch of blood on the fur of her right arm.
"Are you hurt?" you ask.
"No," she says. "There were other soldiers. I was ahead of the pack, and I saw them running after they talked to the men at the post here. I couldn't control myself. I felt like a passenger in my own body, and it chose the frightened prey over the ones standing their ground. I leaped at one of them and took him down. Once I had his neck in my jaws, I didn't care about the others anymore. I tore that man apart, Decaarr. Piece by piece. I tasted his blood. Felt the slow snapping of his bones between my teeth. The most fucked-up thing?" She looks back and forth, seemingly concerned about being overheard. "I felt good doing it. Better than good. I've always been a fighter by nature, and violence comes with it. But this? It was wrong. And I'm afraid, you know? That I'll never feel clean again…."