Luna was shopping, which in all honesty is a surprise in itself. Most day sshe spent her time snacking from what she had thought to be an endless stash of tea and biscuits in the stable's office. Only it was not so endless, and as of last night she was down to raspberry tea. Which if anyone has ever actually tried - knew was not a substitute for an actual beverage of any enjoyment.
This is what lead her to be out and about in the middle of a quiet Sunday afternoon, meandering about the village with a bag full of snacks and string. Literal string, but that can be gotten to later. The coat was over-sized, fur-lined at the cap and decorated with several buttons and bottle cap pins she had 'found.' It was chilly still, winter not yet ready to give up on it's grip for all of American tradition of gophers, or ground squirrels.
Or perhaps hogs. Were there hogs in the Americas...? She pondered this, and the thought to go find a place that made muffins when a half block behind her a definitive pop took place - only to be replaced by the panting, the heaving of someone either after a great pain, or after a great run, and she turned, looking for the source.
Luna knew that face, the one hidden behind the bedraggled hair and lopsided gait. It was a girl from her school days - a year above her, a Hufflepuff. "Megan Jones?" Luna asked, stepping forward quickly, the bags dropped where she had stood. "Megan Jones, aren't you cold?" The question was irrelevant, as it was obvious there was more dire issues at hand - but that was not what Luna asked first, it never would be. "Megan Jones? It's Luna."