Run The Bitch Down!

You've been reading too much fanfic online and in your disoriented state it has gone to your head. "If the werewolf is killed before the victim has been through a full cycle of the Moon and they ingest a sprig of Wolfsbane they will be cured of the affliction." You remember reading somewhere, and that decides you.

Step 1: Hunt down the Bitch who bit you.

Step 2: Execute her sorry and unnatural ass.

Step 3: Get back to your car.

Step 4: Head back to civilization.

Step 5: Convince someone to help you find wolfsbane and eat it.

Step 6: Go back to being a male member of the species H. Sapiens Sapiens.

That's the PLAN going through your thoroughly scrambled brain as you gather some basic gear and set off in search of the pale furred She-Wolf-Woman who bit you, tracking her by her inexplicably enticing arroma, but you know that phrase "No plan survives first contact with the enemy."? It's going to be kinda like that.

You track little miss white hair till well past first light, your newly enhanced olfactory sense complimenting your Eagle-Scout level woods lore from eighteen years of camping trips with your dad and brothers, aided and abetted by the fact that little miss pale fur is making no attempt at all to disguise her backtrail, and right at daybreak your athletic physique and long experience with hiking and hunting catches up with the fugitive.

That's when the new plan starts going pear-shaped too...