Heals with breath

The Bradford kitchen featured hard marble surfaces, bright knives and wooden cutting boards, copper pans dangling from a ceiling rack, and a gas-burning stovetop. Naomi yawned again and her knife slipped on the onion. “Ah!” She clutched her finger, body seeming to fold around the wound. “Shit!”
“Let me see.”
“Could you grab me a towel, it’s bleeding.”
“Let me see.”
She was reluctant to turn over her hand, drops of bright crimson dripping from her closed fist.
Ignoring the blood, Ryn took the auburn-haired girl’s hand and let trickles of it pool into her palm. The cut bled freely, so Ryn bent close and gently blew.
“That’s so unhygienic,” Naomi said.
“Better?”
Naomi rolled her eyes, but then furrowed her brow and muttered, “Yes, actually. It doesn’t hurt at all.” Glancing at her digit while running it under tap water, she frowned at a cut now noticeably shallower than before. “It’s not as bad as I thought.”


Chapter 12, Page 181