The first rule of healing, according to Tay Eming, was simple.
"Do not trust pain."
Mau blinked slowly, holding a bundle of leaves in one hand. "That sounds… counterintuitive."
"It lies," he said, not looking at her as he sorted dried roots on the mat. "Pain makes people panic. Panic makes them careless. Carelessness kills."
Mau considered that.
Then glanced down at her own finger—currently bleeding from a small cut she absolutely did not notice happening.
"…Fair point."
She wiped it casually on her skirt.
Tay Eming's hand snapped out—not harsh, but firm—grabbing her wrist.
"Second rule," he added.
Mau tilted her head. "There's a second rule already? We're moving fast today."
"Respect your own body before you touch another's."
Her gaze dropped to where he held her wrist.
Not tight.
Just… certain.
She softened immediately. "Sorry, Tay."
He released her without a word, but his eyes lingered.
Mau reached for a strip of cloth and wrapped her finger neatly, movements practiced, almost automatic.
"Better?" she asked.
"Better."
A pause.
Then Mau smiled faintly. "I like this version of you. Less mysterious, more… instructional."
"I am always instructional."
"You once explained something by staring at me for five minutes."
"You understood."
"…Eventually," she admitted.
Tay Eming almost smiled.
—
By midday, the quiet of the forest gave way to the organized chaos of the barrio.
And Mau, as always, was pulled into it whether she liked it or not.
"Mau!"
She turned just in time to see Lira sprinting toward her, nearly tripping over her own feet.
"You need to come. Now. Immediately. Urgently."
Mau blinked. "Did you eat something questionable again?"
"What—no! Well, yes, but that's not the point."
"Impressive multitasking."
Lira grabbed her wrist and started dragging her down the path.
"It's Mang Isko."
Mau's expression changed—not dramatically, not loudly—but enough.
Focused.
"What happened?"
"He tried to prove he's still young."
Mau sighed softly. "That never ends well."
They arrived to find Mang Isko sprawled dramatically on a wooden bench, surrounded by concerned—and slightly amused—neighbors.
"I told them," he groaned, clutching his back, "I can still climb coconut trees."
"And we told you not to," one woman muttered.
Mau stepped forward quietly.
"May I?" she asked.
Mang Isko squinted at her. "Ah… the quiet one."
"That's me," Mau said softly, kneeling beside him. "The quiet one who will fix what you broke."
A few chuckles rippled through the crowd.
Mau placed her hands lightly along his back, pressing gently.
"Where does it hurt most?"
"Everywhere."
She paused. "…That's not helpful."
"Lower. Definitely lower."
She nodded, fingers moving with careful precision.
A muscle strain.
Nothing serious.
But painful enough to make a grown man reconsider his life choices.
"Alright," she murmured. "This might sting a little."
Mang Isko braced himself. "I am ready."
Mau pressed.
He yelped.
"I am not ready!"
Laughter broke out around them.
Even Mau's lips twitched slightly.
"Next time," she said calmly, continuing her work, "we try walking instead of climbing."
"But where's the excitement in that?"
"Living," Mau replied.
That earned a louder laugh.
She finished by applying a warm herbal paste, her touch steady and gentle.
"You'll be fine in a few days," she said, standing. "But no climbing."
Mang Isko sighed dramatically. "My youth is gone."
"Your judgment left first," Lira added helpfully.
"Traitor."
—
As the crowd dispersed, a woman approached Mau quietly.
"My child has been coughing," she said, hesitant. "Not like before. Different."
Mau nodded. "I'll come by later."
The woman's shoulders relaxed in relief.
"Thank you."
Mau dipped her head slightly.
No fuss.
No pride.
Just… quiet acceptance.
But as she turned away—
Her eyes shifted.
Sharpened.
Because healing wasn't just kindness.
It was observation.
And something about that cough—
Didn't feel simple.
—
That night, back in the hut, Tay Eming watched her prepare a different set of herbs than usual.
"You noticed," he said.
Mau didn't look up. "The rhythm of the cough is irregular. It's not just the lungs."
Tay nodded once.
"And?"
She hesitated.
Not because she didn't know.
But because she did.
"There's an infection," she said softly. "Early. But spreading."
Tay studied her.
"You did not learn that from me."
Mau's hands stilled for just a second.
"…No," she admitted.
And that—
That was the part she didn't understand.