Elliott seemed bolstered by the idea of turning this into a heroic tale. A good story was a solid trade off, Evangeline supposed wryly. Not that she could argue with the logic--not if it was working! And the boy seemed calm enough now to answer the healer's questions--Elliott Rowle, with two l's and two t's, and he leaned forward to be sure the man was noting it down correctly. When Eva prompted him to answer the other questions, Elliott held out his left, injured hand, said he was eight--and one-half, which was obviously very important and the man needed to be aware. Clearly.

Evangeline was decidedly more relaxed now that her son was calmer and being taken care of. 'Evangeline Rowle," she supplied, since Elliott seemed sufficiently distracted, which she suspected was the point. Thank Merlin.

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