rthur’s P.O.V. (Continued)
I didn’t get the time to think about a way to communicate with her. Colton told me that one of the nurses tending Skye’s wounds could read lips and succeeded in conversing with Skye a few times during the changing of bandages.
But I neither know lip-reading nor do I know sign language.
I looked at the bowl and frowned.
It was just a simple chicken soup. She was recovering from severe injuries, heavy blood loos, a high concentration of wolfsbane in her stream, and that suppressant.
Was it enough to nourish her body and give her extra nourishment?
It seems that my mother was still taking my anger lightly.
“Did you eat anything else?” I asked her, noticing her tightening her grip on the bowl.
She shook her head negatively.
I raised my hand in her direction.
