Shining Spirit Stone
Oh man, please don't call me Flo. Annoying car insurance ladies aside, I spent four years of high school dealing with "Aunt Flo" jokes. Flora if you insist, but in school I had people call me Gale, for my middle name.
As Florence picks her only slightly wobbly way toward the guard station, you have some difficulty agreeing on how best to proceed yourselves. At the very least though, getting the excess blood out of the wound area seems like a place to start. Structures designed for routing moisture through your core are easily modified to shunt blood out of her head. You set to work making the necessary changes.
The guards are still here, and with an inadequate first-aid kit to boot. Looks like a couple of the survivors stopped for help, but only the *really* injured ones. Considering the scowls we got on the way in, I can't say I'm surprised. I don't want to have to rely on these guys for help. I'm nearly there before the one leaning on the fence notices me. They look pretty worn out.
"Oy! Marco! One more commin out."
The other leans around the corner of the gatehouse to get a look at your host. With a tone of surprise barely registering above the obvious exhaustion, he replies. "Whatsat? 'eres no way she was in there. We checked everybody who was far enough out to have a chance."
Florence contrives to frown and look pathetic at the same time. "I was in there, trust me. Please, my head is killing me. Is there anything left in that kit?"
"Sorry doll, unless you need a splint for a broken finger, we're out. Sounds like help is on the way though. Let me take a look at you."
The second one, Marco apparently, leaves his previous patient applying pressure to a wadded up shirt and guides Florence to lean against the fence. He gives her a businesslike once over, stares into her eyes, checks her wound, but if he notices anything, he doesn't show it.
The first guard is not so reticent though. "Hey... I saw you in'air." His eyes appraise your host with a leer she finds somewhat uncomfortable. "You were tha' red-head lying up by the wall. How'sat? Ever'body else up'air froze. This guy 'ere was crawlin out from way closer, an he's frostbit. Yo're barely even shiverin."
Florence, currently watching Marco's finger track back and forth in front of her nose, mutters "Mutation trait" and the guard seems to accept it with naught but a faint eyebrow quirk and a grunt.
By now the parking lot has several emergency vehicles unloading, (still no ambulances though) so the still unnamed guard forces himself off the gate post, which seemed to be the only thing holding him upright, and walks in their direction, presumably to help triage the few wounded who still remain.
Marco simply informs Florence that "You're a very lucky girl, miss," and advises her to "Stay here" while he goes to check on his other patients. She judges that it will be a while before anyone gets back to her.