Charlaine bit down and felt the mild taste of mint, then a rush as if someone had swept her pain away.
“How long does this stuff last?” she asked.
“Hopefully, long enough to get you to a healer.”
She tried to sit up, but Teresa used her hand to hold her down. “Don’t rise, you’ve lost a lot of blood. The last thing we need is for you to start bleeding again.”
“Since when were you a healer?”
“Since my parents couldn’t afford a real one. I spent the best part of my youth learning all about plants, particularly which ones you could eat. It’s the only thing that stopped us from starving.”
“So you can heal me?”
“I wish I could,” said Teresa, “but no, I can only lessen your pain, and even then, this will become less effective with time.”
“How does the wound look?”
“You’re lucky, it looks
