Looking at her incredulously, the shifter-now-tiger-man stood up to steady her, hopefully guiding her back down to the floor, "You shouldnt be doing anything, just sit there and try to not go to sleep..." Trying not to panic, he holds himself together as he looks around, until he finds a box of what looks like clean rags. 

Grabbing some, he carefully tears them into strips. Calm, slow, movements carefully wound the fabric around the wounded arm. His field dressing would be impressive to anyone experienced. As he works he murmurs softly to her, in a tone light enough to try to not make everything seem as problematic as it could be, "Try to keep your blood inside ok? Cant tell you how bad spoiled blood smells later..."