Zuko let out a cry of pain as the werewolf's claws dug into his skin, falling onto his back, though luckily he didn't roll off the counter--didn't mean it didn't hurt like a bitch, though. Groaning as his mind threatened to drop into blackness, he rolled himself over on the counter top, pushing up with his palms until he was kneeling on it.
His golden eyes widened in horror as he saw the carnage that was once the woman he was helping, the blood that clung to every knook and cranny in the tile and dripped from the werewolf's lips. He froze in place when the creature whirled around to face him.
"O-Oz," he said in a shaky voice, unable to concentrate on talking well with the pain that was shooting through him from the wounds on his chest and stomach, "don't ma-make me do thi-this..."
Feeling he was faced with no choice, Zuko summoned what was left of his energy and bent fire into a great flaming ball, hurling it in the direction of the werewolf. He wasn't sure if he actually hit him or not, for soon unconciousness sweapt over him and Zuko collapsed onto his back on the counter, head lolling to one side.
He made no sound, but the blood trickling down an arm that hung over the side from his wounds to the floor, did.