Sal followed the people as soon as they set off to some place on the other side of the steam. They were awfully quiet throughout. They were like ants making their quiet procession, no word of gossip or conversation. As the silence grew so did the discomfort on the soles of Sal’s feet and the dusty feel on her arms. Sal banished those thoughts away. What is in front of her is a quiet procession but perhaps a celebration, its quietness she rather liked.

Sal angled herself behind a thick, sturdy tree. The people stopped at a clearing in the woods where a small hut stood in the grass. The men carried the boy inside. The village head and the constable and Lea disappeared onto the side of the hut. The people who stayed outside did not utter a word.

Sal closed her eyes to focus better on the sounds. A low whisper, the faint creak of feet against a bamboo floor, faint conversation, an escaped shriek, a hush, rustling, louder rustling. A light breeze.

Lea stood a hand’s breadth away from where Sal hid, her back turned away from her. Sal kept her position. LEa left perhaps as quickly as she came, swifter steps. Not a word spoken.

For the next few days, it has seemed to become a habit of Lea’s to cross the stream at sunrise. By the second day, Sal followed her there, perhaps to get away from the noise of the villagers or to be the hero in a dangerous adventure, perhaps both? She followed LEa who came upon the hut in the middle of the clearing. She knocked twice, calling to a nameless figure from where she stood before leaving a small basket at the foot of the hut’s step ladder.

“ Manang Meda bought this root-” And there she went with her spiel about its benefits. Sal guessed what she’d say next.

The scene did not change for another two days.

At the third day, Sal followed Lea as routine to the hut. It was rather a small hut, its wooden posts rotted a bit on its end and the hay on the thatched roof frayed. The door has never seemed to have been opened and the windows looked smaller that it seemed just enough to fit your head in.

Lea left the basket at the door step as always. She stepped away turned to go and it was quiet. No sound of a breath.

Sal skittered from the tree where she hid into the space directly under the window. With a few gingered steps on the hut, She climbed on the wall.

What welcomed her was a wasteland. The first thing you see inside was the amount of furniture. Boxes of clothes stacked haphazardly on the space where the entrance should be. On one side of the house was a neater door, devoid of knick knacks. The door to the room angled open for a little.

When Sal angled her head inside the window, the stick holding the window popped off and it hit her in the head. She let off a small shriek before losing her balance barely holding herself up until she landed on the soft sand.

“ Bastards!”

Sal scrambled on her feet and crawled under the crawlspace under the hut. Foul smell of duck feces assaulted the senses. Sal held her breath more as footsteps sounded across the hut and down into the ladder.

“ You bastard! Show your fucking cowardly ass right here. I’ll split that head of yours like a fucking egg. Show up, you b-”

Wood clattered. A thud. The step ladder thudded onto the sand followed by groans.

From where Sal hud, she could see the stepladder laying on the sand. Lea’s departing figure turned back. She rushed forward until Sal can only see her skirt and her feet. She set the stepladder back in place and climbed on it.

“ Are you alright? Did you hurt your back? Your wrists? Do you feel any tingling anywhere?”

“ Get lost! You bastard, planning to steal from this old lady, huh?”

More creaks.

“ I’m not. Alright, your left foot first. Hold onto me and okay. Put your weight on me. Alright then, do you feel anything?”

“ You think I’m an idiot?”

An audible sigh. “ I’m not a thief. I haven’t stolen anything. I am not stealing anything. I will not steal anything.” 

A creak, footsteps. “Mang Ildo and Manang MEda just sent me to give you these. Turmeric root. It’s good for your health.”

“ I can handle myself. Ain’t no need help from anyone.”

“ Okay, I’ll just prepare this. It’ll make good tea.”

“ I know your kind.”

Sal paused. It’s as if she can imagine the scene, the old lady looking straight at Lea’s muddy green eyes.

“ I studied medicine. Not poison.”

“ As you should.”

“ Doctor Vittorio made sure his assistants are all careful on that matter.”

Sal took note of the name, conjuring an image of a physician, well-dressed, in a neatly-ironed coat, a black tie and slicked back hair and carrying a suitcase of his implements. She should use that name again.

“ I know poison from medicine. “ The old lady piped in.”

“ All right, if you need help.”

“ I am not so feeble as to be looked down by the likes of you. Don’t think that the title of a physician’s assistant gives you the right to look down on us.”

Sal stifled a sound. PErhaps, she should climb up there, tell her that she was mistaken. They were not looking down on them.

“ Everyone knows Doctor Vittorio by name. Just because you can boil water with leaves, it doesn’t mean you are special.”

Sal waited for Lea’s reply. Anything, no matter how foolish or harsh it may sound. Say anything, turn this scenario around.

“ Come back when you’ve shown some real accomplishments.”

The door slammed shut. Lea stepped down the ladder, and walked back to the village with the basket of herbs still on hand.

Sal did not have the courage to tell her to go back.