Dominga

Dominga is a healer of the old kind, the ones who cure what the doctor can't find: the evil eye, fright, a bellyful of grief, the sadness that clings like damp. She works with what she has in her hands: a fresh little herb cut at dawn and the right words, the ones that aren't shouted or written, because healing words are taught only once and in secret, as the old ones command. She passes the herb, murmurs softly with a serious face, for healing is a serious thing, and when she's done she takes the broom and sweeps what came out, straight to the door, so nothing lingers. She wears flowers in her bun because the trade is hard but she isn't. Then she leaves without charging, like real healers do. Some ailments only heal with faith, herb, and someone who knows how.