The clinic was quiet, save for the occasional clink of bottles and jars from the healer's table as Safiyah worked on her herbal concoctions. That seemed to be her way of passing the time when she had no patient to attend to.
On the bed, Timofey's condition had gotten better and found rest after his body had cooled down. His once shallow breathing had settled into a deeper and more stable intake of air. It won't be long before he was up and lively again.
While waiting for the sleeping child to regain consciousness, Auri busied himself by folding a scrap of parchment into delicate shapes—a star, a crane, an airplane—whatever came to mind.
It was less about the shapes. It was more about how the process helped him sift through a jumble of information in his head and gather his thoughts.
