Sally's POV
Juliette scrubs her hands clean before placing the makeshift surgical tools into a ceramic bowl, scalding water cascading over the metal instruments. She drops to her knees beside Vance's massive wolf form, her complexion ghostly white, yet her fingers remain rock-steady. Drawing a sharp breath, she squeezes her eyes shut and whispers what sounds like a desperate prayer. When her lids snap open, fierce determination blazes in her gaze as she stares down at the wounded wolf.
"Move your hands away," she commands quietly.
I pull back, my stomach lurching as fresh crimson streams from the gaping wound without my pressure stemming the flow.
"He'll need an immediate blood transfusion. I doubt your veterinarian has access to compatible wolf blood, so you should call ahead and give them time to locate a donor," she explains while carefully examining the jagged entry point.
