A Sharp Scratch

Isla had almost expected to be interrupted as she worked in the study - it was quiet, it was getting dark and nothing horrific had happened today. It was only a matter of time, really; so when the attendant rushed in to get her, speaking of a blood and torn flesh and the young man who was covered in both, she was half on her feet by the time they even got through the door. Thanking them and advising them to prepare one of the treatment rooms, Isla exited the study and hurried through the ward on quick, silent steps. When she arrived in the waiting area to find the young man at the table, her blue eyes widened a fraction. Clearing her throat, she approached the table to lean down beside him and save him having to move around too much. "I hardly need to ask if you are the one my colleague spoke about," she said, smiling weakly. "My name is Isla. Are you able to stand and walk? There's a treatment room that will be much better suited to looking at you." She would save the questions about what had happened until she was able to take real stock of the injuries. Isla the flesh is weak