When a girl came running around the corner, at first Sierra was glad that someone had come to help. That was until she realized that she had an awful lot of blood on her hands and was poised to look very guilty. 
When the girl ran at her and screamed to get away, Sierra obeyed, throwing herself back so hard she landed on her butt with a startled "Ah!" 
She regained her footing quickly and took a few cautious steps forward, peering toward the man as the woman had her back turned. However, the girl turned quickly and snapped at her again, causing Sierra to jump back another few feet, hands held out in the universal defensive gesture. 

"Woah woah, you got the wrong i-" Before Sierra could finish her sentence another person came running, placing himself between the first woman and Sierra, and looking very threatening. Sierra could smell them, too; both of them wolves as well. She had the sick feeling that she just pissed off a pack, something that, in her experience, always ended badly. 

Sierra took another few steps backward, but also unconsciously lowered herself, ready to either fight or bolt. Probably the latter. She glanced between the unconscious man, the new man, and the woman, silent and still, afraid to make any sudden moves. "Listen," she stammered, "Hey I didn't do nothin', I swear!" She held out her blood-smudged hands before her. She took a breath to speak again when another woman, probably a wolf as well, came running and began tending to the wounded man. 

Sierra shut her mouth, looking around very anxiously. She fucked up. She fucked up really, really badly. She was incredibly outnumbered and the man glaring at her did [i]not[/i] look like he was joking. Many years of ground-in instinct came to her and without thinking, she shifted (tearing her clothes in the process) and ran as fast as she could down the back alleys, completely forgetting how suspicious this would make her look.