I slowly nodded my head, allowing the words to sink into my brain one by one.
So it is the order of things. First, the hunters. Then the guards. The rest of the world—an afterthought.
I immediately thought of the consequences. To climb in this tribe, I would have to become a hunter. At least make them believe I was one.
The thought, however, bothered me. A healer should be above them all—what use were hunters if their wounds rotted? If their fractures were tightened incorrectly? But here, strength is measured through the number of enemies killed, not by the ones saved.
Okay. If they were looking for a jaguar, I would be their one. But when the moment was there, they would realize the truth: the hand that heals is more powerful than the one that strikes.
Even if I am not a doctor, I can offer remedies from my Supermarket Store—medicine for fevers, painkillers for aches. To them, it may well be a miracle.