Ravensblood Forest your life's a dimestore novel

The scent of blood was impossible to miss – the shadowrunner paused in his duty of the forest, considering the abruptness of the strong smell, and a flicker of concern swept through him for his other companions. He hoped it was none of them – and certainly not Durnehviir.
 
His pace quickened then, but it was not a familiar form that met him when he came upon the other wolf. He was youthful – the grey of his fur clinging to him in a clear indication of being unkempt – and the blood upon him was hard to miss – the tear of his face, and more importantly, the missing eye.
 
Constantine considered this for a moment, having not expected to come upon such a ghastly sight, and feeling a drifting guilt at the realization he was also relieved that it was not Durnehviir or Samothes he had discovered harmed. “Can you walk?” There was only a few options that he had – chase the boy away and give him no more thought, kill him, for death would surely come for him if he remained alone anyhow, or try to help him. The wraith chose the latter, despite that they no longer had any healers within their small band.