
Some learned to hawk wares, reshaping cries into human speech; others mimicked gentlewomen, smoothing sleeves and pacing softly. At times, the healer shouldered her satchel and walked the alleys, mending the world one wound at a time. Her steps were hurried, cyan robes darkened by rain; her heart steadfast, pale hands lifting the wounded. She set out with morning mist and returned beneath the stars.