Young Clara, who was in her twenties then, was a little afraid of that younger girl sitting quietly back to her knitting as if they were not having an unusual conversation in the middle of nowhere.
It had even escaped Clara that the scene she was witnessing should be raising alarm bells in a way; however, because she was desperate, she could not think straight.
She lifted the mug to her lips, her tongue still raw from that burn from the initial liquid. She only realized then that she had finished the mug of tea already.
"Would you like some more?" The younger girl asked gently and, without waiting for a reply, reached out for her kettle. She filled up Clara's mug once again, adding a few more milky biscuits.
