Amelie kneeled down by his side, watching his face for any signs of consciousness. His face twitched, as did his arms - clearly, he was somewhere far away in his head. She didn't want to know where. His leg was what drew her attention. Leaning forward, she gently tore the fabric around the wound to get a look. A broken leg, that was for sure. And very nasty too. Bile rose in her throat at the sight of bone. She'd seen something similar to this, once before. A calf had broken its leg while playing in the pasture. They'd tried to fix it, but it broke again after it healed. Infection had set in the second time. But she knew how to set a leg, and perhaps she could help him.

"Wait here," she said needlessly in French. Then, after a moment, in German, "To stay here."

Hurrying back to Pierre, she swung up onto him and set off at a canter away from the farmhouse. She rode all the way back to her home. Her grandparents were luckily tending to their vegetable patch around the back of the house. She called a greeting to them and said that she was going to have lunch somewhere on the property. The brunette went inside to take a flask, a small chunk of bread and their medical kit, and placed the money from the market on the counter. Then she quietly trotted Pierre out of the yard again and cantered back toward the farmhouse. 

Amelie hoped that she had the ability to help him. If she didn't, then he could die in any number of horrible ways. Murmuring a quiet Catholic prayer to herself, she knelt by his side again. "'Allo?" she tried again, opening the medical kit. That pant leg would have to come off first. Her cheeks were coloured a light pink as she brought out the scissors and leaned forward to start cutting it.