By midday, the barrio had come alive.
Children ran barefoot through narrow paths, laughter echoing between nipa huts. Women washed clothes by the river, gossip flowing as freely as the water. Men returned from the fields with tired shoulders and familiar complaints.
And Mau—
Stayed at the edge of it all.
She sat quietly beneath a mango tree, grinding herbs with slow, careful movements. People passed by, some offering small nods, others whispering just loud enough for her to hear.
"She's strange."
"Too quiet."
"But skilled… they say she healed Mang Isko's wound."
Mau kept her eyes lowered.
Not out of shame.
But because she preferred it that way.
Invisible was easier.
"Maureen."
She looked up at the sound of her name—her full name, rarely used.
A woman stood before her, holding a child whose arm hung limp at his side.
"He fell," the mother said, worry tightening her voice. "He's in pain."
Mau stood immediately.
"May I?" she asked softly.
The mother nodded.
Mau knelt in front of the boy, her movements gentle, her touch light as she examined the arm.
"It hurts…" the child whimpered.
"I know," Mau said, her voice soothing. "But I'll help you. Just stay still for me, okay?"
Her tone was so calm, so certain—
The boy nodded despite his fear.
Mau's fingers traced the swelling carefully.
A fracture.
Clean.
Manageable.
She inhaled quietly.
Then—
crack.
The bone slid back into place with precise force.
The boy gasped—but Mau's hand was already steady on his shoulder.
"Breathe," she whispered. "It's okay. It's already better."
Her other hand worked quickly—binding the arm with strips of cloth, securing it with practiced ease.
When she finished, she looked up at the mother.
"He'll need rest. No running. No climbing."
The boy sniffled. "No climbing?"
Mau tilted her head slightly, a faint smile touching her lips. "Unless you want to come back and see me again."
He shook his head quickly.
"Good choice."
The mother's eyes shone with relief. "Thank you, Mau. You have… a gift."
Mau shook her head gently. "It's just practice."
But as they walked away, the whispers returned—softer this time.
Respectful.
Curious.
Uneasy.
Mau returned to her spot beneath the tree.
Her hands resumed their work.
Calm.
Unassuming.
But when she lifted her gaze—
For a brief moment—
There was something in her eyes that did not belong to a quiet barrio girl.
Something sharp.
Something calculating.
Something… dangerous.
—
That evening, back at the hut, the air was cooler.
Mau sat beside Tay Eming, carefully preparing their simple meal.
"You worked well today," he said.
Mau smiled faintly. "The boy was brave."
"You were precise."
She shrugged lightly. "You taught me."
Tay Eming studied her.
"You hide yourself."
Mau's hands paused.
Just for a second.
Then continued.
"It's easier," she said softly.
"For whom?"
She didn't answer right away.
The fire crackled between them.
"For everyone," she said at last.
Tay Eming leaned back slightly, his gaze thoughtful.
"Strength is not meant to be hidden forever, Mau."
She glanced at him, her expression gentle.
"I'm not hiding it," she said.
A small pause.
Then, quietly—
"I'm waiting."
"For what?"
Mau looked toward the darkening forest, where shadows stretched long and quiet.
Her fingers brushed the red mark beneath her ear.
"…I don't know yet."
But something inside her—
Deep, instinctive, undeniable—
Whispered back.
You will.