The brisk morning air burns Moira McTaggart's nostrils as she catches her breath from her daily jog.

She smiles at the serenity that surrounds her, taking in the nature of the Northwest Highlands of Scotland.

That momentary peace is disturbed by a growl and the flash of something out of her peripheral.

Startled, Moira follows the blur over the next hill.

There, she spots an injured lupine form, tumble face-first into the dirt.

Her instincts tell her to stay away from the wolf, but she resists that urge as she witnesses

the impossible.

Oh my word!

The wolf shapeshifts with a combination of anguished animal and woman cries.

The wolf's fur shrinks as her spine and legs lengthen with sounds of bone and flesh, snapping and stretching, then mending into the form of a naked, teenaged girl.

My lady, help me.

Do any worry, lass, I'm a doctor.

She's been shot.

Nothing fatal, thank the heavens, but I'll need to get her somewhere safe to treat her.

She's around 14 years old.

Could be a mutant.

Moira removes her hooded sweater and wraps it around the young girl,

then hefts her body over her shoulder.

She's about to carry her away when an angry mob of seven men with rifles and torches block her path.

That's the witch. Stand aside, Doc. We just want the girl.

This is King Crossland, Craig. You be trespassing. State your business.

Rene Sinclair is possessed.

...