It was her favorite spot, a tiny gem hidden at the base of a cliff where almost no one went. No one except herself. Her mother had shown it to her when she was just a little girl, barely old enough to be trusted on the narrow path down. It was the secret of her mother’s success as a healer; the herbs and fungi that grew down here were especially potent.
Now her mother could no longer safely walk the path, and the task of harvesting was hers alone. It was the one time a week that she could be completely alone, far away from expectations and women’s chatter. The only sound was the soft fall of the water into the pool, and the light which filtered through the heavy canopy turned leaves luminescent and created glittering jewels in the spray.
That she would be a healer was unquestioned. Thanks to her mother she knew every remedy and could find the best and rarest. Her mother’s secret recipes had long been committed to memory. She had no quarrel with her destiny; it was, after all, a much freer life than that of the girls sent to the matchmaker by the time they were of age. And as village healer she was by law protected from a fate far worse, the fate of those who caught the eye of the nobility. She had seen them, their white painted faces devoid of expression above their opulent robes. No feeling or identity could remain in that life; such would destroy a girl more surely than the demands made of her.
No, fortune smiled upon her, and not even the basket heavy with living treasure against her shoulders could make her sorry. She must put other wishes from her mind and thank the ancestors for smiling upon her. But she could not prevent his face from appearing in her mind one more time.
The Word Worker 
Nice work.
Thanks for sharing.
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Nice work. I think it’s got nice storytelling elements.
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Thank you!
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