MIRIAM

I dropped to my knees beside him in a flash. When we got to the bodies, I didn't shift; remained in my wolf form in case of an attack.

Kneeling beside him now, I can't even remember when I shifted. My fingers danced nervously on his face, unsure of what to do as every part of his body had a deep wound. He was battered and bathed in blood.

Shock, rage, fear became my close companions as my cold fingers touched his face, trailing from his forehead to his cheeks. I know I needed something, a miracle, anything. Yet only the blood on his face painted my fingers.

I...