Sarah grabbed Grandma's silver carving knife from the top drawer of the old Tyrolean carved sideboard. She slit the werewolf's throat, and then ran the knife from the slit in the throat right down the beast's belly to his shealthed member and ball sac. It struggle in vain against the vines. She reached into the open wound, and said, "Come on help, we need to find grandma's pieces and put them together to reanimate her before the beast digests her."
Reluctantly, you join in the morbid task. You grope around, and feel something. You say, "I think I found something."
The werewolf is dying. The hair shrinks back to reveal pink human flesh. The massive body is shrinking. The muscles fade into smooth skin. The skin begins to wrinkle, the black hairs become silver. The beast's male organs shrivel and vanish into the flesh, you cringe at that sight. The eyes grow smaller and change from yellow to blue. The wolf speaks, its voice now frail and broken in death, "Child?"
"Grandmother!" Sarah screams in horror, as the bloody mess becomes her that of her dear old grandma.
You look at the object in your hand, at the bloodied, naked, old woman, and back at Sarah, you say, "If that's your grandmother, whose hand is this?" He olds the object up in front of her. She faints.