"Some things don't change much," said Simon. He didn't want to admit how glad he was that she was here, that they'd lost three people already and he was still mourning Kaylee's disappearance the hardest, with all the things that he could have, should have said to her. She didn't need to have that put on her, and so Simon focused on what was easiest: medicine.
"Trauma's easy," he admitted. "Someone gets hurt, there's blood everywhere, and people all more or less go back together the same way, regardless of what universe they came from. It's once you get past that when I realize I'm out of my depth. There are at least two varieties of werewolf, and..."
He trailed off to gather his thoughts for a second. The attacks were still fresh, and Simon had been dealing with the injuries and dead bodies since it happened. "One of them, you could classify it as a disease. It's killing him slowly, but it kills other people faster. He bit a Grounder back in April and it's spread among their population — we'd had one captured and in a cell, and he broke out. Killed four people, injured others. I had to amputate a prison guard's arm because of the damage. I... a werewolf."