He moved among the shadows of the the night as if he were one of them. His steps were quiet as he went through the alleys. So quiet that he might have been a ghost. As he walked his mind mulled over the recent pattern of events and their mysterious lack of explaination. 

And then the scent of blood grew thick on the air. And as he looked he saw her body with it's flesh ripped off, he figured that the scent of rot would soon follow. 

"Wolves, no doubt..." he whispered absently. He inspected the body out of a sort of morbid curiosity, and found her still alive. He furrowed a brow in reaction. Strange. She seemed entirely mortal. After a moment of consideration, he lifted her body and retreated into the shadows. 

Once within his appartment he took her into the bedroom and laid her on the bed. He placed his hands over the wounded part of her body and spoke with a strange voice in a language that could scarcely be described. After that he dashed into the kitchen and began rummaging around. 

He set a huge pot of water to boil on the stove and threw in several large chunks of raw meat from the freezer. He began to incant similarly over the pot as he had just done over the woman's body. With any luck she wouldn't die while he was in here doing this.