Dr. Michaels finally released me from the medical building two days after the bird incident, with strict instructions not to heal so much as a paper cut without supervision. The black sludge I'd puked up was still being analyzed, but preliminary tests confirmed what we all suspected—it contained transformed tissue matching the injuries I'd taken on.
"Which means you're not just transferring wounds," she'd explained. "You're somehow converting them into something your body can expel."
Cool trick, if it didn't feel like being torn apart from the inside.
I stepped outside into the late afternoon sunshine, taking a deep breath of fresh air after days of antiseptic and sickness. The world looked... different. Not physically changed, but like I was seeing it through new eyes. Colors seemed mo
