GREYSON
The last of the silver's burn faded from my leg, leaving behind a itchy flesh. I scratched it as deep as I could, it did nothing to elevate the itch, all it did was tear open the healing flesh some more.
Son of a bitch! Elma, my wolf, roared in my head. Stop. Doing. That!
My wolf could heal the most fatal wounds...hole in the chest, broken femur.
Hell, he healed the injury I sustained when I was fourteen and decided it was a good idea to get high by drinking alcohol fermented with wolfsbane.
It was twenty hours of excruciating pain but he healed that too.
But for some reason, He was completely useless when it came to itches. I scratched some more.
Stop it! He threatened. OrI will leave you to bleed to death.
"That means you die too, genius!" I reminded him.
Hmm, let's me think about it. Elma said in his high horse voice. Life with a moron or sweet eternal silence in the paradise Elysium with the goddess and Jodie Kraven's shewolf?
