Elatha's mouth curved faintly and gently bowed her head as permission was given by the human girl [Nordic Witch].

"Not always," she said softly, her voice carrying the hush of leaves after rain. "It would be arrogant to presume they will answer every call. But today, the they leans."

From a small pouch at her waist, she withdrew a tightly wrapped bundle and pressed it gently into Mira's hand. The wrappings hid its contents from sight, but not from sense—cool fern, soft moss, and something clean and green threaded through it, sharp enough to clear the head when breathed in and absorbent enough to ease bleeding.

"Hold this as you have your professor's handkerchief," Elatha instructed softly. "Just within the nostril. Breathe slowly through your mouth. Let the scent do its work while the body remembers it is safe."

Then she reached again to her belt, this time producing a small vial of clear salve that caught the light like morning dew. She warmed it briefly between her palms before lifting one hand toward the witch's face slowly to give the girl time to settle and accept her touch.

"Nearly done," Elatha continued, as she traced a careful symbol just above the injured nose, the salve cool and tingly against the skin. She then gently pinched the area, holding steady there for several counts before releasing. Her fingers hovered for a moment longer, completing a quiet geometry of the motion before withdrawing. "That should sill the bleeding, but have it seen by humans hands as well. These herbs are tuned for those born beneath wider skies and may not mind their strength when they meet softer vessels."

Did the boy with the bump [Charely Potter] also wish for some immediate care? Her dark eyes danced across the glen, falling on him with a gentle hush and unspoken invitation dancing along the curl of her lips.