Hajin reached the clinic while Vella was replacing the last poultice on a feverish child's brow.
Families whispered beneath the drying herbs as Vella checked the fever, leaving space beside the cot for the watching mother. She turned the cloth to its cooler side while Hajin waited at the doorway, letting those trembling fingers settle first.
"Feel that, his breathing's easier," she said, steadying the mother's hand against the blanket, "the fever is breaking, so keep the cloth clean and follow the willow tea directions I wrote beside his name."
The mother took the note with both hands, staring past it toward the other occupied cots.
"Three neighbors saved this week, my lady," she whispered, her voice cracking, "and I have nothing to give you."
Her free hand fumbled at a thin purse anyway, tugging its strings open with shaking fingers.
Vella closed the purse with two fingers and guided that hand back toward the sleeping boy, "Keep it for his meals, nobody pays here."
