The moment she saw Healer Quirke, Millicent wanted to turn back. She wasn't sure why, but there was something there, something inside her that made her want to run. She didn't though, but simply allowed Orla to sidestep her and lock the door behind her.
Why was there something ominous about the fact that she did?
'The hand is better,' she answered, having almost forgotten about it in her never dying need for potions. She was still shaking slightly, and that one simple sentence, that they were made, there, waiting, had her forget almost everything else.
'How much did you make?' She wanted to ask if she could have some right away. Just a little something. A pain potion to let her slip into the daze that was forgetting, but she didn't dare to ask.