The girl grabbed a pair of tweezers and leaned over the totally numbed foot.

“Ok,” she muttered to herself, moving the tweezers through the cut until she found the glass.

If Oliver could feel it would have been horrible. Looking at it was horrible. He closed his eyes and held the book tighter.

“Got it!” she said at last, and pulled out a shard of green glass a little over an inch long from his foot.

Then she grabbed a needle and thread, leaning forward and quickly stitching it up, then pouring on a bit more numbing oil.

“There you go, all fixed,” she said with a grin, standing up. “Oh, and I’m Maxine, by the way. And I suppose you should go out and meet the gang.”

She turned towards the door. “MARCO, GET IN HERE !” To Oliver: “He’s squeamish, won’t come in here at all.”

Marco did come in, though, after being assured that there were no bloody knives lying about.

He then grabbed Oliver and brough him outside where a small gathering of people were standing about.

Sven stepped forward.