She lifted the bucket by the handle from the embers, the metal very hot on her flesh but not hot enough for her to be injured. Steam rose in clouds from the melted snow and felt fantastic on her face. She really hated taking off her coat when she was outside like this. She turned around to face the giant man with the torn stomach, only to see that not only had he not been present for the second half of her preparation (against her advice for relaxation), but he was now returning from wherever he had gone with a very human-looking sack. A bleeding, human-looking sack. As the unconscious figure fell from his grasp into the snow beside her (not a little drop), she couldn't conceal the surprise that flickered across her face. Her eyes widened slightly and she caught her breath, sharply looking up at her original patient. At his words, she couldn't help but pause for a second, though her gut told her that time was of the essence. That's right. One thing at a time. One problem at a time.<br/><br/>She knelt down and placed two of her bare fingers against the man's neck, just under the his jaw. Faint, and thready, but definitely present. Congratulations, she mentally quipped, you're not dead yet. Instinctively her hands found the top of his trench coat and gave a quick pull, opening the long garment so that she could see where the blood was coming from. With access to his body she started touching him everywhere, her hands gentle and light as she tried to find the - there! Her eyes lit on the bullet wound in the man's leg. Without another thought she yanked one of the hide strips that held her coat closed off and tied it to his leg, above the wound, making it very tight. Her mind was racing but her face remained as empty as ever.<br/><br/>Her fingers closed around one of her hunting knives and she gently tore into the man's pants around his injury, doling out a mental apology for the intrusion. Quickly and neatly she had opened a square around the hole, then tossed her knife aside and cupped some hot water in her hands, opening them over the injury. As the hot water washed the old blood away and the tourniquet slowed the new blood. she could see the injury with more clarity, and she leaned in slightly. Damn. The bullet was still in there. An almost silent snort of frustration came from the blonde woman's blank face as she steeled herself. She'd never done this before... but it couldn't exactly be left in there, could it?<br/><br/>Without another thought she reached in the hole with her forefinger and thumb, stretching the skin around the entrance wound as she did so. His muscle and sinew felt slimy and thick against her sensitive fingers, and uncomfortably warm. She closed her eyes for a moment, sending another quick apology his way and hoping she wasn't just making everything worse. Fortunately, she was able to grab the thing (barely); it wasn't as deep as she thought it was, but it had severed quite a few vessels. A fresh wave of sticky, coppery red washed over her hands as she withdrew the metallic ammunition, and she quickly tightened the tourniquet and checked the man's pulse again. Still there. Was it weaker than it had been originally? She couldn't remember.<br/><br/>She cupped more water in her hands, staining the remaining bucket water a light pink. As the rest of the blood rinsed away, she quickly set one hand over the wound, holding off more bleeding while she found the medicine. With the one hand that was not holding the wound she clicked open the small metal box, revealing a thick, greenish-brown paste that smelled strongly of bitter herbs. Quickly she lifted her hand and smeared a couple of teaspoons worth of the medicinal-smelling goop over the hole in his leg (she wondered briefly if she should actually fill the hole with it, but abandoned the thought). Without hesitation she grabbed the length of linen from her arm and held it steady to one side of the bullet hole, and gently bent his leg so that his knee was slightly crooked. Deftly she wrapped his upper leg all the way around, overlapping only a few times. When she was convinced it was well-padded and secure, she leaned over his leg and bit at the linen to tear it. She tucked the end into the wrap firmly.<br/><br/>She leaned back, staring at her handiwork. Well, it could be worse. He could be dead. So there was that.<br/><br/>With a stony face she stood and dug through the pack again, looking for some skins or hide or anything. She only found one; some leather that had been poorly treated. It was thin, but she folded it over a couple of times and set it close to the smouldering embers. Liliana leaned over and grabbed the almost-corpse by his gaunt shoulders and dragged him onto the skin (with some difficulty). With a sigh, she emptied the bucket of pink water and filled it with snow again, taking the opportunity to finish washing her hands and hunting knife, and set it back in the embers. She hesitated, but decided to take the tourniquet off. With luck, he wouldn't bleed to death in the next five minutes due to a botched backyard "surgery".<br/><br/>One down. One to go.<br/><br/>She turned to the larger man, and for a moment just stared at his stomach. After binding the bloody guy's leg she didn't have enough linen to wrap that entire midsection, not with all that muscle. Time to take the coat off... again. Her face remained empty but she was disgruntled on the inside as she pulled off her warmth again and unbound the length of wrap from her right arm, then quickly shuffled back into her cocoon of a parka. Well, at least she definitely had enough now. And the snow had melted already, and even come close to the boiling point. Great. She took the bucket from the fire and walked with no hesitation to the sitting giant. "Might hurt," she said flatly.<br/><br/>She cupped hot water with both hands and gave it a flick toward the injury, hoping to rinse away some of the dried blood so she could see where the deepest parts of the bite lay. A little part of her brain was aware that she was now only inches away from a man literally six to seven times her size, but that was not a part of her brain that she needed right now. She flung some more water and as the dried blood dripped away, she could see very clearly the mangled sinew. Now more than ever she thought it was bizarre that he had merely gone about his business with skinning the bear and fashioning meat-armor with an injury like that. Well, he was clearly a mutant. Maybe that had something to do with it. She pulled out the metal box again and opened it, scooping quite a large amount onto her palm. She leaned forward even more to rub it on the open flesh, her bangs almost touching the man. Despite her bleak expression, her touch was firm and gentle. The bitter, healing smell of the herbs filled the air around them.<br/><br/>Almost done, she thought as she clicked the box shut again and pocketed it. She pulled out the fresh linen, then held one end of it just above and slightly to the left of where the herbal paste had been applied. Her face turned up to his. "Hold this here," she said clearly.