"Enough talking."
The healer's voice cracked, sharp as a door slamming shut on hesitation. Her fingers pressed against her knee to help her rise, then she bent toward the ground. Her steady hands picked up the vessel lying there, still heavy with the raw scent of crushed plants. She lifted it with the care of a priest holding a relic.
Maggie followed the movement with her eyes, unable to move anything more than her gaze. The vessel, crude yet clever, had a narrow spout designed so the liquid would flow straight into the mouth, leaving no chance of spillage. Like an ancient coffeepot, repurposed for another kind of awakening.
