Terrence's heart leapt when he saw she was still alive, though he would admit to feeling pain in his heart to see her injured. He allowed himself to be taken and helped her along too.<br/>That was a hard fight. Sure, it was over quickly, but the injuries sustained were big. Maybe not before the fall, but in the days where medicine wasn't a common find, things were different.<br/><br/>But with Terrence's gunslinger training included treating wounds. Terrence reached into a pocket and pulled a needle and thread. Sure, it wasn't surgical and it wasn't sterile, but he'd take his chances.<br/>He washed the wound out with water from one of the skins, winced slightly at the sting. Then he started to stitch the wounds closed. It took a while, but in the end the wounds were closed tightly. To prevent the stitches from breaking, Terrence would not be able to use his arm for a while. Not until the flesh could splice itself back together. Luckily the wound was in his left arm, and not the dominant right.<br/><br/>Wetting some cloth he scrubbed at his face to get all the congealed blood off it. To finish it all, he spat an unhealthy glob of phlegm, blood and saliva to the ground outside.