“Hello ma’am,” Nana mutters, entering the healer’s chambers, carrying a tray of herbs. Her palms are cold, she is panting. She realized she had been tired for some days now; the previous night was even worse. Her sheets were wet with sweat, and there’s an odd sensation that was tingling in her lower belly which made her restless all night.
“Are you sick?” the healer asks, her sharp eyes narrowing at Nana as she places the tray on the wooden table.
“No,” Nana mutters, trying to sound convincing, though her voice lacks any strength. She feels weak, her legs wobbling as she stands.
The healer clicks her tongue and walks closer, her gray hair tied back into a bun that doesn’t soften her stern demeanor. “You look like hell,” she says bluntly. “Pale as a corpse and shaking like a leaf. Sit do
