He has a fair enough sense, even without sight, not to mention there were only so many places one could take someone so afflicted. The sharp and sometimes strange smells of the medical tent are already all too familiar to Childermass and, in here, he can at least find solace in how gloomy Zecora keeps the tent, being a shadowy creature in her own right. He moves his arm once he hears the flap flop back shut, just a little, enough to try peeking out and squinting around for a moment.

Everything's blurry to him, but the lamplight in here turns out to be far more forgiving than the sun outside. For now, anyway. The pain remains, only lessens, and for how long he doesn't know.

"It still hurts," he lets Lambert know, "But I think I can see in here."