Sasha
Sasha paused momentarily to dig through the tattered remnants of her slacks, withdrawing a small cellphone. Although she noticed a new message was waiting, she didn’t care enough at the moment to check it out. Sasha was relieved to find that the wolf wasn’t going to resist and swiftly picked her up, heading back towards the house at a light, easy trot. She held the other away from her body to minimize jostling her, not sure if there were any wounds to be avoided, and not willing to stop and poke around. Thick dreadlocks in a myriad of colors rustled, streaming out behind the enforcer as she leapt over meandering creeks and retraced her earlier path.
Soon she began to hear the general low roar that was the constant inner workings of the vast house, from talking werewolves to the heating system cycling on. Sasha had some time to consider her actions, not certain why she should give a damn about some stray werewolf knocking on death’s door, but perhaps it was as simple as knowing Charles had done much the same for her. Besides that, Sam had a policy where she didn’t start treating others like dirt until they proved they were dirt, which inevitably happened.
Showing no strain from running while carrying a wolf that despite apparent malnutrition was still large, Sasha approached the house, skipped stairs ascending the deck, and arrived at the sliding door. Using a furred foot to nudge the door aside, Sasha ducked inside and moved towards the den, a room a few feet down from the kitchen. Her steps finally faltered when she heard all the voices coming from the kitchen, but Sasha only spared a glance for the collection of people before slipping into the den and setting the wolf down in the couch.
Stepping back, she stared down at the wolf. I will bring you food. Stay here.