Losing Hope For A Cure

Henry looked at all of the expectant eyes cast in his direction and he took a sigh before looking down at the dark liquid in the cup he carried. Even before he brought it up to his lips, it was potent. The smell was unlike anything else he had ever smelled. 

He had told himself before that it couldn't be as bad as the peasant tea made from bark and skins of fruit, but the smell was enough to know that it was a whole lot worse. 

For good measure, he blew on the liquid before taking a sip. 

However, the moment it met his lips, he realized it wasn't something he could sip down gently. The liquid was more viscous than he could have ever expected and, despite the small amount in the wooden cup, it seemed to hit his mouth all at once. He felt like he was being choked as it passed down his throat. He couldn't escape the temperature of it either.