Arthur’s POV
I climb my way out of Noah’s dungeon. I take in a deep breath of fresh air and only for a moment are my senses cleared. The fresh scent of pine from the trees replaces the smell of metallic blood clogging my nostrils.
I shake my head in hopes to clear my vision, but the sun is throwing off my focus. I can’t seem to see straight and my skin is prickling beneath the warm rays, as if overly aware of each sun beam.
The more I stand still the more I become irritated by it all, so I move. A few people have tried to stop me, maybe recognizing who I am or maybe they’re moved by compassion seeing a fellow being in such a state of frenzy distress, but I brush them off.
I can’t stop to talk. How do I explain whose blood this is? What if I lose control and bite them? Even the thought
