Remembering the old film, "Monster Squad", you quickly kick the werewolf between the legs, because the wolfman has nards. Sometimes life imitates art.
The wolfman collapses, howling in pain, and you dash out of the room, leaping his fallen form. He futilely swipes at your ankles, attempting to catch you,but you deftly wriggle away from his claws.
You're out of the room, and you can hear the werewolf getting to his feet, his claws scratching on the hardwood floors. You slam the door, bracing it with an endtable in the hallway, which should buy you some time. You take a moment and collect your thoughts.