<strong>Mary's dream</strong><br/><br/>This was different.  Mary looked around quickly, then down at herself.  Not the desert, not in uniform or nude.  "Shiiiit."  She said almost calmly.  For the first time in years she wasn't dreaming about that night in Iraq.  Enough of that, there was work to do.<br/><br/>"Let me help you."  She spoke not a word of French, especially not medieval French.  Relying on friendly tone and expression she slowly but assuredly knelt beside Joan and started pulling bandages and antiseptics out of her carryall.  Some of the gashes were bad.  those got wound clotting packs as well as cleaning and binding.  From the looks of the Joan, food wouldn't hurt her either.  Mary kept MRE entree packs in her bag,  se tore one open and handed it to the Frenchwoman with a plastic spoon.  A small part of her was wondering just how much of a dream this was.