"Él ha ido por infierno!" Asa Cortez exclaimed as she motioned Dormand and
Morsley to bring Brogan Marchent in. "But I have seen worse. We can clean
him up muy rápido." Her dark eyes caught sight of Penelope and Pearl,
instantly commanding them to go wash up without any words.
Penelope was unnerved. She had seen the look on Asa's face. She trusted Asa-Healer Cortez was one of St. Mungo's finest. But the terror that had swept over her kind old face did not generate much confidence. Oh, Marchent would be fine. But Asa, of all people, wouldn't have expected to see such an injury out here.
Pearl seemed to hear Penelope's thoughts. "There are dragons around," she said simply. "Accidents do happen."
"I guess we should have seen it coming," Penelope agreed. But the fear remained with her as she helped prepare a place of Marchent and pulled out the necessary spell books. Dragons. Dumbledore had mentioned them, even after the mandatory warning of St. Mungo's. These people were out here for a reason. Her urge to write to the Order doubled.
As a precaution, Asa had prepared one of the rooms of the tavern as a healing room. Just in case something would happen. They were Healers, or were going to be, and needed to learn to always look ahead. It wasn't much, just a small corner room with tables and a cupboard full of potions. But it would do. Dormand and Morsley motioned the stretcher over the table before letting it fade. Marchent gave a low groan, the first sign that he was still alive. Asa muttered something to herself, yelled at someone to get her such and such potion, and cast a cleaning spell over Marchent.
"Whatever happened to him?" Pearl asked.
The men looked at each other.
"Dragon attack," Dormand finally said. "It does happen up here."
"Don't you have any small hospitals?" Penelope asked. The question was stupid. Why have a healer's hut when it was so much easier to quickly move someone to St. Mungo's?
"We usually don't have incidents like this," Morsley said quickly. "But it's dangerous as of late. . . there are many things out there.. . "
Pearl giggled nervously, her face reddening. "Besides dragons?"
"Oh, yes-"
"Shut up, Winston," Dormand muttered.
Pearl smiled at Morsley. Penelope winked at her. She had to agree with her roommate: this Winston Morsley was kind of cute.
But there was something else. Dormand and Morsley weren't telling everything. The hesitation had made that quite clear.
"Healer Cortez," she said suddenly. "Maybe he should be transported to St. Mungo's."
Asa gave a sharp gasp, and even Dormand startled-a strange reaction for him. The two exchanged a look, barely perceptible. "It won't be so bad, chica. You'll see, when he is clean. Think of it as practice. Hands on experience. Una educativo hilly. Gavin! Continue this spell!"
Dormand and Morsley turned to leave, now sure Marchent would be cared for. Yet the speed of their departure once again surprised Penelope. They were anxious-anxious to bring the poor man here and anxious to return to whatever they were doing.
I shouldn't pry, she thought. At least not while I'm working. There will be plenty of time for that later. So she stood where she was, watching patiently, mentally copying everything Asa said of burns and cuts.
Asa was correct. Sort of. The injuries weren't quite as bad as it had seemed, once the blood had been cleaned away. But there were many, more cuts than burns thankfully. The cuts were not exactly mere scratches, but he would live and a little salve should prevent scars. The dragon had indeed had fun with the man. No one said so out loud, but the question was still there. Was Dormand sure it was a dragon? Of course there were burns, but burns could come from anything. Things weren't always as they seemed.
Why did Percy suddenly invade her thoughts? She bit her lip and concentrated on the healing.
An hour passed before Asa declared the patient ready for rest. He was breathing now, looking more asleep than dead.
"Well, now," Asa said with the cheeriness of someone who had done nothing more serious than garden. "Wasn't that fun?"
A few people actually dared laugh.
"You wouldn't be laughing were it you, insensible niños. Who would like to clean up?"
Penelope found herself volunteering. She wasn't sure why. To keep her mind off Percy? To see if Brogan Marchent would regain enough awareness to tell her anything? Neither reasons came to action. She hummed to herself as she tidied up, but there were too many questions. What had happened to Brogan? Should she contact Dumbledore? And what should she do about Percy?
She had just finished when Brogan stirred and groaned. She flitted to his side and grabbed his hand. Warm. He was doing better.
"Mum?" he murmured innocently. His eyes remained closed.
Penelope gave a small laugh. There was something charming about a patient calling for his mother. At least a patient who would be fine.
"Just the healer," she said softly.
Brogan didn't take it in. "It's not a color, Mum," he whispered. "I told you. Brown's a thing. And a color. Color of redemption."
A color of redemption? She frowned and stroked his hand. What sort of dream was the poor thing having?
"It's not what you think, Mum," Brogan continued. "It's not what most people think."
Percy again. Damn it all to hell, couldn't he get out of her thoughts.
"It's not what most people think at all, Mum. Brown isn't. Dormand isn't. But there is a lot of death. Huh? I'd love some biscuits, Mum, thanks." He gave a weak smile and drifted back into deep sleep.
Penelope held his hand only a few moments longer, but it felt like decades. She squeezed his hand, her own heart squeezing and pounding as well. She didn't even know what he had been talking about in that fevered dreams. There was no sense to it. And it meant nothing to her, whatever it was.
But the words had affected her. She couldn't believe what she was going to do.
Penelope was unnerved. She had seen the look on Asa's face. She trusted Asa-Healer Cortez was one of St. Mungo's finest. But the terror that had swept over her kind old face did not generate much confidence. Oh, Marchent would be fine. But Asa, of all people, wouldn't have expected to see such an injury out here.
Pearl seemed to hear Penelope's thoughts. "There are dragons around," she said simply. "Accidents do happen."
"I guess we should have seen it coming," Penelope agreed. But the fear remained with her as she helped prepare a place of Marchent and pulled out the necessary spell books. Dragons. Dumbledore had mentioned them, even after the mandatory warning of St. Mungo's. These people were out here for a reason. Her urge to write to the Order doubled.
As a precaution, Asa had prepared one of the rooms of the tavern as a healing room. Just in case something would happen. They were Healers, or were going to be, and needed to learn to always look ahead. It wasn't much, just a small corner room with tables and a cupboard full of potions. But it would do. Dormand and Morsley motioned the stretcher over the table before letting it fade. Marchent gave a low groan, the first sign that he was still alive. Asa muttered something to herself, yelled at someone to get her such and such potion, and cast a cleaning spell over Marchent.
"Whatever happened to him?" Pearl asked.
The men looked at each other.
"Dragon attack," Dormand finally said. "It does happen up here."
"Don't you have any small hospitals?" Penelope asked. The question was stupid. Why have a healer's hut when it was so much easier to quickly move someone to St. Mungo's?
"We usually don't have incidents like this," Morsley said quickly. "But it's dangerous as of late. . . there are many things out there.. . "
Pearl giggled nervously, her face reddening. "Besides dragons?"
"Oh, yes-"
"Shut up, Winston," Dormand muttered.
Pearl smiled at Morsley. Penelope winked at her. She had to agree with her roommate: this Winston Morsley was kind of cute.
But there was something else. Dormand and Morsley weren't telling everything. The hesitation had made that quite clear.
"Healer Cortez," she said suddenly. "Maybe he should be transported to St. Mungo's."
Asa gave a sharp gasp, and even Dormand startled-a strange reaction for him. The two exchanged a look, barely perceptible. "It won't be so bad, chica. You'll see, when he is clean. Think of it as practice. Hands on experience. Una educativo hilly. Gavin! Continue this spell!"
Dormand and Morsley turned to leave, now sure Marchent would be cared for. Yet the speed of their departure once again surprised Penelope. They were anxious-anxious to bring the poor man here and anxious to return to whatever they were doing.
I shouldn't pry, she thought. At least not while I'm working. There will be plenty of time for that later. So she stood where she was, watching patiently, mentally copying everything Asa said of burns and cuts.
Asa was correct. Sort of. The injuries weren't quite as bad as it had seemed, once the blood had been cleaned away. But there were many, more cuts than burns thankfully. The cuts were not exactly mere scratches, but he would live and a little salve should prevent scars. The dragon had indeed had fun with the man. No one said so out loud, but the question was still there. Was Dormand sure it was a dragon? Of course there were burns, but burns could come from anything. Things weren't always as they seemed.
Why did Percy suddenly invade her thoughts? She bit her lip and concentrated on the healing.
An hour passed before Asa declared the patient ready for rest. He was breathing now, looking more asleep than dead.
"Well, now," Asa said with the cheeriness of someone who had done nothing more serious than garden. "Wasn't that fun?"
A few people actually dared laugh.
"You wouldn't be laughing were it you, insensible niños. Who would like to clean up?"
Penelope found herself volunteering. She wasn't sure why. To keep her mind off Percy? To see if Brogan Marchent would regain enough awareness to tell her anything? Neither reasons came to action. She hummed to herself as she tidied up, but there were too many questions. What had happened to Brogan? Should she contact Dumbledore? And what should she do about Percy?
She had just finished when Brogan stirred and groaned. She flitted to his side and grabbed his hand. Warm. He was doing better.
"Mum?" he murmured innocently. His eyes remained closed.
Penelope gave a small laugh. There was something charming about a patient calling for his mother. At least a patient who would be fine.
"Just the healer," she said softly.
Brogan didn't take it in. "It's not a color, Mum," he whispered. "I told you. Brown's a thing. And a color. Color of redemption."
A color of redemption? She frowned and stroked his hand. What sort of dream was the poor thing having?
"It's not what you think, Mum," Brogan continued. "It's not what most people think."
Percy again. Damn it all to hell, couldn't he get out of her thoughts.
"It's not what most people think at all, Mum. Brown isn't. Dormand isn't. But there is a lot of death. Huh? I'd love some biscuits, Mum, thanks." He gave a weak smile and drifted back into deep sleep.
Penelope held his hand only a few moments longer, but it felt like decades. She squeezed his hand, her own heart squeezing and pounding as well. She didn't even know what he had been talking about in that fevered dreams. There was no sense to it. And it meant nothing to her, whatever it was.
But the words had affected her. She couldn't believe what she was going to do.
