Mohan was standing by the window. It wasn't rainy anymore. Weak sunlight passed through sporadic clouds and gleamed in. certainly last night intended to help them to burn up the devil. He was alone inside the room. The other beds were made up before. He glared at his bandage over his chest. He felt no sore anymore. He grinned, but a wee irritating scratch bit his cheek.
"Again the wise man and his magical potions, surely he is a gift to us", He disclosed and was grateful for having him. He finally found the mysterious wizard whom his great mother written about. The man he thought is a myth was an alive person who's saving people.
At the same time walked to mirror and checked his face. A green salve had brushed on that prickle. Well raddled to make sure no cicatrix it is going to leave. The same salve was on his arm. He opened the bandage and wore his shirt and gathered up his belongings. He walked out to survey Morwarid condition.
