*Morgan*
“Can you please hand me those vials, Cain?” I ask him.
Cain, Tanya, Serena, and I are in my potion-making shed packing everything up. I’ve just finished all the healing brews, mixtures, and salves I can think of.
“I hope this is enough,” I admit nervously to the room.
I look around at the hundreds of vials and containers of creams I’ve whipped up over the last few days. The potions are many different colors, light blue, pale pink, yellow, orange, and even dark red. The ointments are primarily white, but one is red. It’s the color of the sun when it's setting. This salve is to help someone become unconscious if there is too much pain and there’s nothing I can do for them. I very much hope I won’t have to use it.
“Are you kidding me, Morgan? You have enough here to treat hundreds of people. This is more than enough,” Cain replies, and picks up a crate of potion vials. Serena grabs a container of ointments and follows the red-headed shifter.