CIAN
The infirmary felt too small for the number of people packed inside it.
My mother sat on the edge of one of the cots with her hands folded in her lap. She was trying to look composed, but I could see the tremor in her fingers. The way her shoulders stayed just a little too rigid. There was a slight pallor in her cheeks that had not been there this morning.
Fia stood beside her with one hand resting lightly on my mother's shoulder.
Maren moved between them both with quick, efficient steps. She checked my mother's pulse. Then she pressed the back of her hand against her forehead.
"How do you feel?" Maren asked.
"Fine," my mother said.
Her voice came out steady, but I knew better. I had known her my entire life. I could hear the lie underneath.
Maren frowned.
"You should still be resting now. The white moss is keeping you upright but it will not last long. Your body needs time to process what you put it through."
"I understand."
