She needed to get out of there. Every fiber of her being screamed at her of the necessity. Aconitum variegatum. Aconite. Monkshood. Maria could still remember the various names of the flowering plant, drilled into her brain from her days training as a hunter growing up. By any name, it spelled imminent danger. She needed to leave. Her werecoyote eyes glowed in the dimness of the club. She couldn't control this slightest of indications of her supernatural side. It was her body's aborted efforts to try to heal herself against the damaging influences of the wolfsbane.
Fortunately, no one around her seemed to take notice of her strange eyes or how the fog was affecting her. In consideration, their weak human eyes probably couldn't see all that clearly in the dark. Still, she knew it wouldn't be a problem for the Calaveras. If need be, they could wear night vision goggles to scope her out of the crowd. Or infrared, since she would light up, body temperature running so much higher than the average person. However, as she looked out across the club, she could see the outlines of the guy she passed next to the DJ booth. He, too, seemed to be affected by the fog. In a way that couldn't be simply attributed to the knock to the head he suffered earlier. Which could only mean one thing.
The loner instinct of the coyote wanted Maria to hightail it out of there. Survival of the fittest. If another of her kind was too weak, the natural thing to do was to leave it behind. But Maria spent too long wandering the wilderness as a coyote, acting on animal instincts alone. Yes, she survived, but it wasn't living. She sorely missed the social aspect of being around others in those years. Pro social behavior meant helping. Moreover, she knew exactly what torturous operations the Calaveras were doled out before killing their prey. In the end, her human side won out.
She stumbled back towards the other were through the ocean of bodies. Going back the other way meant getting closer to the smoke machine, the source of the wolfsbane concoction, where it was stronger. The closer she got, the more challenging it was to draw breath. She needed to get to him before one or both of them passed out, and she wasn't about to let her family get their hands on her again. Finally, she found herself almost crashing up against the other were. Her grasping fingers found steadying purchase in the material of his shirt.
"Come on, we have to get out of here. Let's go," Maria said, tugging him in the direction of the exit. "Come on."