After ensuring that two rogues were dead, the large brown wolf transformed into his human form and returned to check on the female that was being beaten when he arrived.
She was not moving, and her chest rose and fell in small choppy movements. Those were not good signs.
He stood above Marcy and observed her wretched state.
Her left arm had an open fracture, and her right leg was bent at an unusual angle. Her short black hair was wet from the blood, and her face was swollen to the point where she was unrecognizable, but her scent told him it was her. Marcy. A female he identified as his sister.
Ignoring the young girl crying next to Marcy, James squatted and listened to Marcy's heartbeat, which was getting fainter by the second.
She coughed which caused blood to ooze down her cheeks.
James frowned when he realized that Marcy didn't have a wolf, and without her wolf, those injuries and blood loss were deadly.
"George?" She called weakly.