As the werewolf came barreling forth, Sam gripped the handle of his new sword as tight as he could, the point straight out ahead of him, shutting his eyes and wincing in anticipation. Sure enough, the heedless beast stayed its course, impaling itself on his blade, but as he felt the metal slide through flesh and scrape against bone, he felt a sharp pain just below his shoulder as the beast sank its fangs into his arm. Screaming, he kicked and shoved to get his blade free from the wolfman that howled and writhed on the ground, and started to run.
Eventually, he could no longer hear its screams, and took a moment to examine his arm. Definitely big teeth marks, and blood. He tried to tear off a sleeve to tie around it, but quickly regretted the effort and decided to instead just go easy on it. Eventually the path he was on lead towards some sleepy rustic village. Quickly, he found his money to be of no value here, beyond what change he had in his wallet, which at least got him a clean bit of cloth and some strong alcohol for his injury. Still he wasn't worried about it getting infected as he was with, well, being infected. It's not as if Sam didn't have a pretty good idea what a werewolf was when he was looking right at one, and getting some advice on how to deal with that before it got dark seemed like a really important thing.