"A sort of demi-living weapons that patrol our body. Same size as the bacteria, they fight them, and often win. However, for the body to produce them, it must have been repeatedly in contact with such microbes. You, unfortunately, have been nearly isolated for more than a millennium in a sort of happy island. Healthy like corals you were, but now ...”
"Understood. Then, better hurry with your story."
The wagon felt curtain pulled away and Oksana peeped in, a bowl in hand: "Here it is, Friend."
Paxma sipped it shortly. Excellent. "Drink this, now", he said, handing it to Quilen. "Then you'll be ready for the story."
Feigning reluctance was by now a conditioned reflex for him, but eventually the Chief took the bowl and drank. As a rule, one sip led to another. "I feel better already", he
