I was still staring at the angry red welts snaking up my forearm when the omega spun on her heel and fled my doorway.
"Wait!" I called, but she was already gone, her footsteps a frantic, echoing tattoo down the long hallway.
I stood there, my confusion warring with the persistent itch. A moment later, her voice, shrill with panic, erupted from somewhere deeper in the house.
"Get Doctor Bridget! Now! The Chieftainess is sick!"
Chieftainess.
10