RETH
"Put pressure on that wound!" Aymora hissed.
Reth clapped his hand over the other arm, but watched, holding his breath, as Aymora offered the bowl to the beast.
It's nostrils flared and it lifted its head to lap at the blood. Reth's heart flew into his throat—then plummeted again when she shook her head, snorting, and dropped it back to the furs with a soft groan.
"Shit! The herbs are bitter," Aymora cursed. "The blood will congeal soon—"
"Do you have a waterskin in there?" Reth asked, his voice shaky.
"Yes, but water won't stop her stomach from rejecting—"
"Empty it," Reth commanded, crawling up onto the platform. "Get off here and empty the waterskin, put the blood in it, and hand it to me."