"Yes", he agreed dully, and then a mild reassurance; "I've seen worse." Djura was a war veteran who'd been in multiple battles, and had tended to both his own wounds in the field and others — though not as a medical practitioner, of course. He was undecided on whether this young woman seemed like a professional, though she was evidently confident. A mother, perhaps, with boys prone to grazed knees and knocked elbows.

Then as if from nowhere, the wind caught up once more, and a nearby tree swayed menacingly, seeming almost to flex its branches. Djura frowned. Had he inadvertently wandered into some "magical" section of the otherwise innocuous suburban woodland?