Herbs hanging beneath the eaves rustle in the breeze. Her hair tied with a white cord, Seolhwa checks the basket's labels one by one. Sunlight catches the silvery needle case in her hair, and her pale violet gaze pauses briefly at the threshold.
Outside, people murmur the words “Dang clan.” Seolhwa's fingertips stiffen, but she soon sets the label down. On the workbench, an herb map lies separate from a rough village map marking the well's location. A cup of fragrant tea is still steaming.