"She didn't like to talk when it wasn't necessary."
She liked grinding down herbs, and concocting potions at Haldra's instruction. Listening through the thin branch walls as Haldra pressed paste into wounds or bound bandages.
She often made her way between the Healer's Cabin, where Haldra saw patients, and the Herb shed, where the ingredients were stored. She retrieved whatever Haldra thought was needed for the day early.
Then she went whenever members of the tribe turned up with something unexpected, like a certain rash or allergic reaction. Some took tonics every so often, like Ira, the woman who seized without them. Haldra had created the brew just for her. Prayed over it, knuckles clasped, on her knees, not an easy feat for a seventy-six year old woman, but still she'd done it.
Mora thought that was beautiful. But she didn't say anything like that to Haldra. She just asked her what she needed, and got it quickly. Or better yet, guessed before she asked. Haldra appreciated that. She would say, "Good work, girl," Sometimes Haldra gave her things she otherwise would never take from the stores, like a portion of turkey on a holiday, or baked peaches from her home. Those had been really good, she had almost asked Haldra how she made them, but she didn't like to talk when it wasn't necessary.
Sometimes Haldra told her stories, about her life, or herself, and she didn't do that when she was seeing patients. So Mora knew Haldra trusted her. Enough to feel comfortable with her silence, to know not to really push.
Mora had to remind herself it was Haldra who approached her when she was twelve and asked if she would like to work in her service. Asked her directly, like her answer mattered more than what Ata wanted for her.
**
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