Edmund, who had been lazily lying on the bed moments ago, saying he was too weak to move, suddenly jumped to his feet. He stood tall with a straight posture, like a soldier ready to march into battle.
Primrose was caught off guard and shocked to see that her husband had truly recovered from his fever.
When he retracted his wolf ears and marched toward the balcony without any sign of weakness, she knew he had healed completely.
He had probably been fine for a while. All of those pitiful complaints and groans every half hour had only been an attempt to steal her attention.
"What's wrong?" Primrose asked, quickly getting out of bed as well. She didn't even bother calling him out on his little game. "Is this just a drill or something?"
"No. This is real." Edmund's icy-blue eyes narrowed as he scanned the land beyond the window. His jaw tightened, his voice turning cold. "Damn it … I knew something like this would happen near winter. Those fucking dogs."
