Sierra had been walking through back alleys, sniffing around for anything fit for eating and cursing the fleas in her hair. She was glad for her sense of augmented smell even in human form, although now it only meant that the smells of garbage and pollution were stronger. Still though, she was able to pinpoint the smell of food as it wafted by. 
She followed the scent, one of melted cheese and meat, through another alley and caught a glimpse of a white-haired person carrying bags into a building. Damn. Growling under her breath, Sierra leaned against a dumpster in this new alley, clutching her growling stomach as the sick feeling of hunger pangs rocked through her gut. If this went on much longer, she'd have to shift and eat a stray cat or something. Those fuckers were everywhere. 

Sliding down the wall next to the dumpster, she sat on the ground, hugging her knees to her chest once again. The fleas were still bothering her, but she was so tired at this point that she began to nod off, forehead resting on her knees. That was, until she heard someone coming out of the building she was sitting against. 
She tried to ignore it, figuring it was just another late night smoker as the familiar stink of cigarettes reached her. She'd actually almost fallen asleep by the time she heard a heavy thudding in the street. 

Sierra's eyes snapped open, and she stood, peering around the dumpster into the street. In the dim yellow glow of a streetlight she saw a man on the ground, sputtering and wheezing, looking as if he had been attacked. But that was impossible. There wasn't a soul around except for the man and Sierra herself. She took a step around the dumpster to investigate, but just as she did so, the man started moving. 
Her eyes widened. He wasn't moving under his own power, it was as if he was being dragged by some unseen brute. Sierra jumped back as he was slammed into the dumpster, yelping, "What the [i]fuck![/i]" and trying to put as much distance as possible between herself and the bloodied pulp of a man. He breathed heavily and quickly, possible hyperventilating, obviously panicked. Sierra wanted to run and get the hell away from whatever demon was possessing the area. This was crazy. Was this the type of shit that went down in cities? No, impossible, no matter where you went some things remained impossible. 

Her entire body shook, out of hunger or fear she did not know. But the man had passed out, and the... [i]thing[/i] seemed to be gone now. Cautiously she approached, her steps silent, drawing her hood as far over her head as it could go, as if that would protect her. She knelt beside the man, now definitely unconscious, and looked him over. He was in [i]bad[/i] shape, that much was true. The familiar scent of blood hung heavily around him, making the air thick and rancid. But there was another strong scent there too, aside from cigarettes and what seemed to be tea. Forgetting herself for the moment, she lowered her face to his (where blood dripped from his mouth), and took a long sniff. 

[i]No way.[/i] The man was a werewolf, no doubt about it. Sierra's mind spun. She'd always known that her pack couldn't have been the only ones, but here? In a city? It was more than unlikely. In her perplexity, Sierra almost forgot that the man was in critical condition, and that she knew next to nothing about first aid. So, with shaky hands she grabbed two handfuls of the man's shirt and gently shook.

"Dude, wake up, don't be dead, come on..." When there was no reaction, she let go of one hand and gently slapped his (mostly) uninjured cheek. "Hello! Dude! Wake up! [i]Hello![/i]"