Moonspear Stiffen up that upper lip.

Ahh shit.  Bridget glanced sideways, then stepped around, setting herself firmly between the younger wolf and the body and attempting to catch her eyes.  She'd lock in on them if she could.

Lilitu.  Listen to me.  Her voice was firm, but she kept it gentle.  That isn't your father.  I promise.  It is a stranger that we can't help.  We need to find someone we can help.  She hoped that she could break through the panic, but her stomach curled a bit.  This was a lot even for her and she was an (albeit unseasoned) medic.  At her age, the most Bridget had been forced to deal with was the occasional cut or gore wound.

If that didn't work, Bridget might be forced to drag her away, but she really didn't want to resort to that without attempting the alternatives.