“I doubt I'm as good at it as you must be by now, but it should be passable,” he said as I raised it to my lips, barely hearing his words. The flat, not-quite right taste of the formula ran past my tongue and down my throat as I guzzled quickly. I drained the bottle completely and handed it back.
“Not bad, actually,” I managed to say, already reaching for the next bottle he was uncorking. I drank that half way, then paused to catch my breath. On the tray beside the bed was a bowl of dark, rich looking broth and a half a loaf of bread. He saw my eyes on it and handed it to me.
“You might want to take it easy, child. You don't want to make yourself ill.” I drained the broth, and sat back with the bread cradled to me like a baby.
I could feel the combination of meals working the magic of h
