CIRCE
"The blood reserve is running dry, Luna," the head healer informed me, wisely taking a step back. "Once all the Gammas have been healed, there will barely be anything left to produce a cure for the other packs."
The reserves of my trump card were running dry, but the other packs did not need to know that. My army was my first priority.
Footfalls pulled me out of my reverie as another messenger scurried in. That was rarely ever a good sign.
"I am here to report on the red fever," he announced, shaking. I gestured for him to continue, bracing for the bad news I knew was coming. "There have been forty-six more incidents of the red fever." He swallowed hard. "Families are asking for a cure for their members before their symptoms worsen."
