Rick shook his head slowly. "More like a jaybird than a wolf. Not a stitch on him. I figure he changed back." He would have laughed, were it not for all the blood and the injuries, but there was still a glint of that strange humor in his eyes. He packed up the kit so it was easily portable again, and stepped back from the counter with it in his hand. He stopped and gave her a peculiar look. "I was going to say--you'd be better off just throwing that shirt away. Blood doesn't come out." He stepped around toward the door.