caged-sparrow:
“Thank you,” Triel nodded, her eyes flickering to the vial. She recognized the herb, but couldn’t help the paranoia that told her that just because it was willowbark didn’t mean it couldn’t also be poisoned. But that was irrational, wasn’ it? Even if she had been eavesdropping… it wouldn’t make sense to kill her before learning what she knew. Triel took the twig, chewing on it slowly.
“A bit,” she whimpered, and it was true. She had a feeling it wasn’t broken; that was one of those things where people always said that if it was broken, you’d know. She wasn’t sure how, if you’d never done it, but she trusted the anecdotes. “Where’d you learn how to do this?” When in doubt, learn more about the other person than they knew about you.
The woman took the willow bark and started chewing it, and Nan smiled encouragingly. She went back to studying her injured ankle. Perhaps it would be best to cut the root away? It would be easier than trying to unhook her ankle, if it hurt as badly as she said. She chewed the inside of her cheek thoughtfully, an absentminded gesture that showed she was considering something.
At the question, she looked up. It was common for patients to make small talk, to try to distract themselves. Had the question not been asked, Nan would have asked her something. So she said, conversationally, “My mother taught me. She was the village healer before me, and she passed her skills on to me.” She kept her voice calm and pleasant, the automatic tone she used when treating people, and then reached out to gently place her hands on the woman’s ankle. “I was trained by her for my formative years, and then she and I served in the war together. I’ve taught myself ever since, after she left the village.” She gave the woman an encouraging smile. “My name’s Nan, by the way,” she said. “What’s yours?” That was a good, simple, place to start.















