Elias woke with his arm already braced for pain.
He had dreamed in fragments last night. The feeling as the massive teeth plunged into his shoulder, the sound of his own bones grinding in his ear, the hot splash of his own blood on his face.
Even now, as he drifted between sleeping and reality, he could smell the stench of the wolf's breath. It was exactly how he knew death smelled…
Like blood and rotten flesh.
Waking up meant that he was going to have to deal with the reality of sepsis, of infection, swelling, maybe the start of necrosis. He braced for all of it as his eyes cracked open.
Instead, there was nothing.
He flexed his hand, expecting the nerves to be completely severed and his fingers to not work.
But his fingers obeyed his commands the first time.
There was no numbness, no pins and needles, no slow delay.
His grip was strong, clean, potentially better than it was before.
That wasn't right.
