It was one way to end a break, but what were two lost minutes when they’d had such a busy few weeks? Rosamund would make them up on some quiet day in five years, perhaps. Instead, she rushed to where she’d heard the shout, finding that she had reached the pair first. The girl was sobbing; the man looked conscious but unsteady, his breath coming shallowly beneath a bubblehead charm. They were clutching at each other, but if the girl said he was dying, there wasn’t exactly time to waste - a little breathless herself from their tangled panic, Rosamund summoned the nearest stretcher and levitated the man on, catching sight of his other hand in the moment with symbols inked upon it. Strange symbols.

Pictish.

“Tell me what happened, if you can,” Rommy instructed urgently, wordlessly beckoning the woman along with her as she headed for the nearest place that was not the middle of the waiting room with all the gawping onlookers so that she would have room to think. “What has he been in contact with?”

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