"Good. Fingers are always a bitch to come by," she says over her shoulder while heading back upstairs. As the front door shuts behind him, there's a charge in the air as the warding spell reseals.

"Bring him into the front room, yeah? There's a tarp for him and food for you in the fridge." And a shower, too, if he wants it. "You know what got him? S'it just injury or poison?"

As she's already mentioned, the front room where she usually does the majority of her work has space on the floor cleared and covered with a tarp. The shelves are lined with bottles filed with all manner of supplies - herbs, roots, minerals, oils, animal parts, and a great many unlit candles of various colours.