His second attempt to acquire the power-halting drugs went almost as well as the first. It would’ve gone better, if he remembered what time of the month it was.



The monstrosity slid into the alleyway, knocking over cans and falling against a dumpster, panting. He remembered this place. The man behind the curse knew it as a clinic that saw all manners of ne’er-do-wells and could’ve known about distributors; the wolf just knew it was a place of healing.



Second floor above the keycutters. The wolf leaped from a standing position to catch the fire escape. The metal creaked and bent threateningly under his weight. It gave way entirely when he pulled himself over the railing, the rusted metal falling to the alleyway ground. No door in sight, so he made one.



CRASH!



The former window pane littered the floor and the thick fur of the wolf. He stumbled to his paws, leaning heavily on a cart, sending the items piled atop it to the ground. A thick pink tongue lolled out of his maw as he sniffed the air. Catching the scent of a woman, he blindly stepped forward. The lack of balance turned it into a fall ending in a heavy thump.



His vision started to swim. The smell of his own blood was beginning to overwhelm him. Mud, sweat, and blood matted the fur of his back down. Claws scrabbled for purchase before he gave up, laying there, breathing hard. In the back of his mind, he prayed this lead was right.



malaise