Without any fanfare, the female doctor wrapped a tourniquet around the girl’s forearm, about midway up. Unlike the tourniquets in the Boy Scout manual, this one had a thumbscrew to tighten it—although he supposed they’d call it something else, since the doctor was turning it with her mouth. She left it slightly loose and grabbed a bottle between her hooves, using her teeth to pull the cork out. Instead of dipping in a coffee-stirrer, though, she dumped some of the liquid on a bundle of rags the zebra was holding. She re-corked the bottle, set it aside, and took the rags from the zebra, using them to spread the fluid It turned the girl’s skin a bright orangey-red. Is that Mercurochrome? His mother had used the stuff liberally— it hurt more than the wound. He hadn’t seen it in stores for a while; it had probably been replaced by some kind of no-more-tears type of antiseptic. 