Brandon wasn't sure where to go, but he knew staying in the house was far from the safest option. In fact, it was probably certain death. He headed toward the front door, vaulting over the sofa on his way there.
The werewolf charged at him, missing narrowly a couple more times, once with fangs, and once with elongated claws. Brandon made it to the front door, leaping through it in a fluid motion and running into the street.
Much to his relief, the snarling werewolf stopped in the front yard, already looking like the metamorphosis was beginning to reverse. Indeed, it was, and Brandon looked on with undisguised shock and curiosity as the werewolf began to revert, its fur retracting, and its muscles shrinking away. Soon, it was just Rick again, standing in shredded clothing, looking at Brandon with confusion.