The elderly woman nodded several times, clearly pleased that someone had finally paid attention to her condition.
Her wrinkled hands trembled slightly as she packed up the small bundles of herbs.
Her smile was warm, and though her back was bent from years of labor, her eyes carried a spark of gratitude.
"Thank you, Miss Doctor. I'll be there," she said again before shuffling away, leaning on her walking stick.
Lena straightened up, dusting off her hands as she turned toward Gideon. "At least now we have our first patient."
"That's good," Gideon said. His voice was calm, but inside he felt the weight of responsibility.
A clinic wasn't just about medicine—it was about trust. If they failed their first patients, the village might never open its heart to them.
We can't afford mistakes here, he thought.
