The Wolf is Coming Ch. 48

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She wanted to call an ambulance to take Abraham to the hospital, but suddenly remembered that the unconscious guy in front of her was not an ordinary human being at all.

Would Muggle hospitals treat werewolves?

If a werewolf was rashly sent to the hospital, would he be sliced and studied?

What if his injuries were caused by magic?

Where was St. Mungo's?

A series of questions rushed into her mind, and Emma couldn't help but feel a headache.

Let's deal with the wound first. She hoped there would be things like wound medicine and bandages here. She thought.

The cloak that Abraham wore on the outside was black, and the blood stains on the back were not obvious. When Emma took off the cloak and revealed the light brown sweater inside, she found that most of his back had been stained red with blood.

From the right shoulder to the left waist, it seemed as if something sharp had cut through it. Through the torn sweater, you could vaguely see the long and hideous wound underneath.

"Oh my God..." Emma couldn't help but gasp.

With such an injury, Emma didn't dare to touch him anymore. She searched the apartment but couldn't find any scissors, so she simply took a smaller steel knife from the kitchen and carefully cut open the light brown sweater.

Abraham's back was finally exposed to the air. It was still the same as in her memory, pale, thin, and you could vaguely see a lot of faded scars. But now, the most shocking thing was the wound that was so deep that she could see the bone and the blood was still flowing.

So Emma frowned, took the medicine box she had just found, and treated his wound as gently as possible.

When Abraham woke up, he first felt the unbearable pain in his body, and then he felt a slight chill on his back.

He moved, and Emma, who had been cleaning his wound with alcohol, immediately noticed it.

"You're awake!" Emma's tone was a little surprised, and then it was full of anxiety, "Don't move, your wound is still bleeding! How did you get hurt like this?"

Abraham then found that he was lying on the carpet with his upper body naked, and his pale face was slightly flushed. He explained in a hoarse voice, "Maybe he was pissed off... Injuries caused by Dark Arts should not be so easy to heal."

"Dark Arts?!" Emma exclaimed, and then immediately lowered her voice and asked him, "Is it a Death Eater?"

Abraham was silent for a while, and then he said vaguely, "Probably... right."

Emma couldn't help but get nervous.

"What time is it now?" Abraham supported the floor and was about to get up.

"It's almost five o'clock, and you've only been unconscious for less than twenty minutes– don't move, your wound is still bleeding!"

"Anyway, these ordinary wound medicines won't work on it." Abraham slowly got up and reached out to take the bandage from Emma's hand.

Facing Abraham's naked chest, Emma turned her face away belatedly, her eyes dodging.

Abraham obviously noticed this too, "I locked Trickster on the balcony, can you help feed it?"

Emma immediately jumped up from the ground and trotted to the balcony.

When she dawdled back to the living room, Abraham had already bandaged himself and leaned on the sofa.

"I'm really sorry to bother you today. I hope I didn't delay you too much." Abraham said with a smile, and then waved to her, "Come over here, okay?"

Emma thought he needed something else, so she hurried over. Unexpectedly, Abraham took her hand and stuffed a cool, heavy object into her palm.

Abraham let go of his hand, and Emma looked down at the little thing.

This was a pebble the size of an egg. On the smooth surface with black and brown as the main colors, it was cleverly painted with paint in several places. With just a few strokes, the pebble was given a new soul and became the appearance of a little doll– long brown hair with some curls, and big and bright brown eyes. The little doll was wearing a black wizard robe, with a golden and red striped scarf representing Gryffindor House around its neck, and a magic wand in its cartoon-like hand that looked like a small ball.

Although the style of the little doll was more cartoon-like, Emma still recognized it at a glance. It was herself.

"When I first saw this pebble, I thought it looked a bit like you. The drawing is not very good, I hope you don't mind." Abraham scratched his head, looking a little embarrassed. "Merry Christmas, Hermione."

All credit goes to the original author
Feel free to pinpoint us if there are any grammar error or typos
Please don't use Guazi's translation to re-translate in other languages

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