"Shush, I'm so sorry little wolf," I say gently as I stroke his neck. He passes out after a few minutes, which is likely from all the blood loss. I’m hoping he is strong enough to make it through this because I have no idea how much blood he could have lost getting here. I stand up, looking down at the wolf and think about my options quickly. I know with him unconscious, I think I can get him back to mine without him making too much noise or distress for this poor creature. I look at the knife in my hand, its heavy and I think its real silver as it shines in the moonlight, the blood dripping off it looking unnatural and scary. It has unusual drawings all over it, that I don’t recognise but they look very much like crowns. I put it in my handbag with my phone, shutting off the light. I'm lucky I'm a little strong because half carrying the large wolf the short walk to my ground floor apartment nearly killed me. I eventually get to my door, opening it before carrying the wolf into my lounge.                                                                                                               I lean against the wall, getting my breath back and look down at my red dress, covered in blood and stuck to me in sweat. I put the lights on and walk out to grab the first aid box off out the kitchen. When I come back In, I scream.

I must be going crazy because where I left the wolf, there is now a young boy around eight curled up in a ball, with a mop of black hair with blonde tips covering his face and he’s naked. I rush over to him, seeing how pale he is and looking around for the wolf in my small lounge. The front door is shut, so I know he didn’t get out but as soon as I'm close the boy, his body shakes before he shifts into the black wolf.

I scream again, dropping the box on the floor and just stare at the still passed out little wolf.

What the hell? I know I’m having a really bad night but I really didn’t think I had gone completely mad. I slide to the floor staring at the wolf and I remember some weird things. Like all the books I read as a teenager about werewolves, and now there is a real one in my living room. Who knew they were actually real, and I should be running out the room screaming. The image of the small boy appears in my mind as I look at the wolf, and I realise that I don’t care what he is, he needs my help.