Wolfnine wasn’t the only one— even the usually calm middle-aged Landwolf hurried over to check on Martin. “Where are you hurt? Let me take a look.”
Martin doubled over with a wave of nausea and sank to the ground. He sat there in silence for a long time before he could finally accept one simple fact: he had drunk who-knew-how-much of that golden python’s fresh blood.
Well, what’s done is done. He felt fine, and he’d escaped the golden python alive— unlucky as the whole mess was, at least he hadn’t died. After talking himself down for a bit, the knot in his chest loosened.
“Landwolf, do you think he’s snapped? Or gone simple? How are we supposed to face the Elders and the chief if something’s wrong with him?” Wolfnine grew frantic when Martin didn’t move or answer.
“Wolfnine, shut it.”
