Under his bubbling skin, more muscles and some severe blisters formed. His index and middle fingers elongated, his claws grew thicker, and the base of his hands imploded to reshape itself with a better degree of freedom. Every joints inside his arms gained in elasticity, allowing him to reach even the most far-fetched arrows on his back.
The little bit of humidity his wounds generated was plundered when he did roll on the side, humidifying his skin, that until he found the place of the camp where the river streamed.
The sudden coldness gave Oswald another glimpse of the reality. No more red vision, still the world was orange and yellow as the camp was set ablaze by his runs in between the tents.
Ward was still hiding, even though the place warmed up a little, he was far from ready to exit his great stash. He was in conflict with himself, he couldn't tell whether or not the first howls he heard were the same as the ones he heard in his camp two months ago.
