[Noah spares the horse a nervous glance, like he's not sure if he should be petting Phillip or running away]

This isn't my body. Not really. [He turns, and for a moment, the bruise beneath his eye flickers into a dark hollow of a crushed skull's memory. Then he points, and it's again a bruise. His finger indicates a crowd gathered around a single point. It's the kind of crowd that only gathers at interesting disasters or, perhaps, teenage boys collapsed in the street] It's there.

If you wanted to help, could you maybe scare them away? Or distract them?