As she had with him, the nurse placed her hoof in the center of the bruise, holding it there for a moment.  He half-expected to see the bruise face away, but of course it didn’t.  He suddenly realized he was looking at an unconscious woman’s breasts and his face reddened.  Was he a lecherous old man for looking?  Or was he doing his duty?  What if she asked him what they’d done if—when—she woke?  Could he say he’d looked away and didn’t know?  What would he want her to do if their positions were reversed?  He might spot something they wouldn’t—or was that just an excuse to keep staring?  Being suddenly thrust into a strange culture had been bad enough; now they were violating his own cultural taboos—not out of malice, but just plain ignorance.  He sighed, watching as the nurse laid her head on the girl’s chest, flattening an ear between her breasts to listen for a heartbeat.  