Given even a moment to reflect, Veti would have groaned with frustration, knowing all too well that of course not a one of her beloved pack were going to take even the slightest chance to escape. No, of course not. Heroes - or would-be-heroes - each and every one. Superheroes maybe, in many senses, but this was a [i]god[/i]. The woman was not paralyzed with fear, not like her wolf, cowering and whining in terror in a dark corner of her mind. But it was nothing but the bald, stark truth: she really [i]was[/i] damn sure afraid.

That didn't stop her from taking the pistol and magazines Semyon gave her with steady hands, noting with approval she had a magazine of hollow points, incendiary... And silver. Veti didn't really believe any of these would have a real, lasting effect, but it was a damn sight better than standing around looking helpless.

Well, even if that was [i]exactly[/i] how she felt. 

Thad had, apparently, been listening [i]very[/i] closely to Henry, crafting a spear of magic and alchemy, hurling it at the Fenrir. Daisy had made a cavalry charger of Artie, the ephemeral scythe a... Crossbow? Siya was, as always, not much more than a blur even to her preternatural eyes as she streaked for the Fenrir's legs. The new guy Gabe was completing a set of acrobatics all about the demigod with sword and pistols, while Jay-Jay seemed ready to light yet another thing on fire - no shocker there really. Atticus was... Well, she honestly couldn't see Atticus at the moment, and her heart leapt for a moment for the boss guy -

With a snarl twisted on her crimson lips, the werewolf tucked the magazines of silver and hollow points into her bra strap for lack of anything else like a belt, and slammed the magazine of incendiaries home. This was no guardian from the Library of Alexandria, though Semyon was climbing up his hide as easily as the werewolf had scaled the onyx anubis. Positions perfectly reversed with the wight this time, she raised the Stetchkin and shot for the eyeball closest to Semyon. The whole time she prayed - just under her breath, to the God she thought her parents' Catholicism hadn't quite made stick - that the flaming, searing ammunition would at least distract the wolf-god from crushing, eating or otherwise annihilating one of the people she loved.