Kate yelps when the gun goes off, his hands over her ears, head ducking. The end is swift and sharp and she's holding her breath, eyes squeezed tight — nauseous and dizzy from the pain she can still put no words to. Wynonna is here, and it comes with a balm and after a few moments, she's finally daring herself to look.

The wolf is Tim, and he's no on the Lieutenant but coming towards her — putting space between her and the him. Kate inhales tightly, still choking on sobs. Tim couldn't turn into a wolf before, surely he would have told her that was a thing he could do, right? She doesn't know why he can do this, or if he's even safe—

there's blood around his muzzle. Edward Little's blood. And that's all she can stare at: a panting maw, dripping and bloodied and filled with so many sharp teeth.

She's backing away from him, letting out soft whine of fear — even when there's nowhere left for her to go. She's already pressed tightly against the pew, her feet scrambling against the floorboard. She pulls her knees in close, tries to make herself smaller: get back, get back—

She doesn't want him near her.

But then, she worries— what if Wynonna shoots Tim—

She still doesn't Tim to die.

"Wynonna, don't shoot the wolf—!" she cries out from the pew, she still doesn't dare come out, keeps herself pressed there. "It's Tim."