He'd suspected it, of course. Mulcahy knows sterilization and he knows a breach of it--as if it was all difficult to tell, after being attacked. Little Peter did what he could, but he can only do so much. Busy as Mulcahy's has been, it's massively difficult to sit and wait in one place for several hours, but... if he's right, there's no use in spreading infection in the clinic he should be helping or on the supplies he should be carrying.

So he sits at the edge of the wood and waits. He watches the birds. Peter keeps him company.

It's when he starts to have trouble breathing that he clutches his sending stone. The nearest shelter is Prague Mill. He doesn't know anybody there except Neil West, but that's... fine, the more he thinks about it. They've spoken, but not enough to make this too harrowing yet.

He hopes.

But he's loathe to ask this of anybody. It's why he hesitates for so long, until he starts to feel a chill, and that is enough to steel his resolve.

"Mr. West?" he calls on the stone. "This is Francis Mulcahy. I... hate to ask of you this. I really do. But I think I may need a favor."