Claimed by My Enemy Alpha Mate
Ulysses, the wizard, pushed open the door, wrapped in his long black robe, complaining as he walked in, holding two cups, one large and one small.
"Ulysses, how much longer until my wounds heal?" Klaus took the cup, tilted his head back, and downed the potion. He frowned slightly, apparently feeling uncomfortable with the wizard's medicine.
"Don't worry." Ulysses seemed to have anticipated Klaus's question. He put his hand in his black robe pocket and continued, "I know what you're thinking. But I've informed your pack; your people are on their way."
...Your people? What people? I listened attentively, but I didn't understand the meaning of their conversation.