Wind by Naomi kritzer(11)

“Well, at least she’s accomplished things with hers,” Dagmar said, bitterly. Surely not all her creations were collapsing.
“So is it worth staying here, forever, never changing, but being able to heal?”
“I don’t know,” Dagmar said. “I can’t imagine giving up my power and I can’t imagine leaving. Anyway, the apprenticeship program for physicians in the great city down below the foothills does not accept students over the age of thirty, and I passed that milestone a long time ago.” At thirty, she’d had three children, with a fourth on the way.

“There are other colleges of healing,” Zimeya said. “In other cities.”
“Even further away!” Dagmar felt a surge of indignation, then, that anyone would throw that out so casually. If it was impossible to imagine leaving her home to spend five years apprenticing in the nearest great city, it was thrice impossible to imagine going to some distant shore she’d never even heard of. Even if Gytha had. Especially if Gytha had.
Zimeya said nothing. In the silence, the shutters rattled from a sudden night breeze. Dagmar finished cleaning the dishes, and then helped Zimeya lie back down on her pallet. Dagmar’s husband was still gone; she knew not to expect him for hours. Sometimes on evenings like this, she’d leave a note on the door to direct any messengers seeking a healer and go to the tea house to sit with the other women of the village, but with a patient, she felt like she should stay home. After a while she said, “You have an unusual name. Where do you come from?”