If Jenna had been able to believe in herself, the target of her attempted comfort might have seen past the irrationality of such a comment and tried to believe it too. Without any faith in her own statement, she elicited very little reassurance from Adam. Instead, he focused on remaining calm with deep -if somewhat fitful- breathing, guessing that flying into a panic would only cause the blood to flow quicker.

A spark of hope did alight in him, however, when she tore off a strip of fabric to bind around his wound. He was just prepared to answer her, thankful for the hint of relief, when another young lady grabbed at her. He stared at her, struck dumb, as she demanded Jenna's hairpin and then fiddled with the button she had seized, muttering vengeful phrases to herself. As this happened, he felt the warm, sticky red running down his leg and staining his sock. "Can...can you...?"

Before he had finished stammering out a plea for Jenna's continued help, Adam was silenced once again as tiny grains began to form in his hands once more. A clump of sand materialized in his palm, and without thinking he shoved it onto his wound, thinking it would help. Instead, he nearly cried out as dozens of pinpoints of pain poked onto the tender, lacerated flesh. The bloodied sand fell to the ground, spattering onto the shred of pants Jenna had left behind. Thinking he would try to bind the wound himself, Adam gritted his teeth and reached for it. Before his fingers got close, however, the sand formed itself into the shape of a doll, which picked up the cloth and held it gently against the skin as Adam carefully wound it around his leg. Once the job was done, the little construct dissolved, and its creator released his stored breath. Enough blood had escaped so that the area was somewhat numb, but with luck the makeshift bandage would keep enough from leaking out to make it dangerous.

He looked to the others for direction.