Josiah quietly stepped into your tent, approaching with a cup of tea in his hands — the bag used to make it borrowed from Hosea. He approached with light steps, lowering onto the stool positioned beside the cot you were on.

“Hello my dear,” he smiled faintly in the dim lighting, setting the cup into your hands. “How are you? Has it gotten any better?”

One of his hands found its way onto your abdomen — still heated from holding the steaming cup — and he let it settle there comfortingly.