Vella tested the supply wagon's last knot while Hajin heaved salt sacks onto the tailgate.
Medical hampers sat between padded dividers outside the palisade, and Hajin checked every sack against Vella's list of three villages. Their patients could never walk two whole days to a clinic with farms untended, so he snugged Ash's harness tighter.
"Salves go to their doors today, Master," she said, pushing a stoppered vial deeper into its padded slot, "before a cough turns into something they can't carry down a mountain."
"Salt first," Hajin grunted, wedging the last village share where nobody must unload everything, "they can save a dinner with salt before deciding whether our medicine is poison."
He shoved the tailgate pin home while Ash sucked a dried apple slice, watching every pair of working hands.
Loccy planted her hammer beside the gate and glared at the guards assigned to the expedition.
