There, collapsed against the white stone wall, was a girl.

She was maybe my age, with long silver hair matted with blood. Her clothes were torn, and I could see deep gashes across her arms and torso. Blood pooled beneath her, dark and terrible against the pale stone.

She was dying.

"Help," she whispered when she saw me, her voice so weak I barely heard it. "Please... help me..."

I stood frozen, my wolf body trembling. Every instinct screamed at me to run toward her, to help, to do ...