Henry had been more and less than a man for a very long time. He had stopped thinking of himself as a man sometime in the eight or ninth decade, and it was only recently that the magic that bound him into various physical forms became unstable and unpredictable. In the last three small winters, Henry had experienced the world as Beast, man, and a strange variety of creatures, none of which he truly remembered. He kept expecting the witch to return, but she never did, and he could not identify the cause of the changes, except perhaps to assume it had something to do with the sudden influx of strangers on his lands.
Henry had also traveled out of the boundaries of the spell in the last few seasons as well. There was a short, confusing visit to Daniel's world, and the two men had shared a strange connection for a short period that allowed them to reverse their physical locations.
Therefore Henry was equipped to recognize the strange smoking structure on the ground in front of him. The air smelled odd, like an electrical storm and a blacksmith's forge at the same time. He remembered the shape of the metal tube, recalled that people (brave fools they were) rode in the flying shapes. This one apparently would not fly again.
Henry moved around the shape of the wreckage, realizing as he did so that he was in his leather travelers' boots, and that he walked on two legs, not four. He brushed his fingers across his unshaven chin, and it felt foreign, as did the movement of his hair above his eyebrows and the weight of weapons on his back and hip. He saw the injured woman as he took several steps to one side, and advanced slowly to crouch in front of her.
Henry had spoke with the injured and the dying before. His tone was deeply normal. "Good morning, mistress."