"Head wound," she admits as she carries the cat to the door. "But those always look scary, even when they're not so bad."

Then again, if he's taken a knock to the head - even a relatively light one that he could recover from without too much fuss - he still might be too addled right now to direct Edgar much of anywhere. And that's assuming he hasn't conked out completely.

Thank you, she tells the cat as she gently sets him down outside the TARDIS. You've been a marvelous help. The cat twines around her legs, then picks his way off through the leaves.

Turning her attention to Andrew, she gives him a sympathetic once-over. He'll look a bit weird running around the park all mid-sized with one trouser leg in tatters, but he's already insisted on coming along, and she really doesn't have any way of stopping him.

"I'm going to take dog shape," she decides. That'll make it easier to focus on the dogs in the area without also losing a grip on the shape she's in. "If anyone fusses over me running around, you can just say I've slipped my lead."