"Think, Leo, think," he mumbled through gritted teeth.
His first priority was the trail he was leaving. He leaned against the glowing wall and hastily stripped off his jacket, tearing a long, sturdy strip of fabric from the reinforced inner lining.
Biting down on the leather hilt of his stolen dagger to stifle his own screams, he removed the previous dressing around his wound that was already soaked red, and wrapped the makeshift bandage tightly around his bleeding thigh, knotting it with brutal force.
The pain was still as bad as ever, and nearly made him pass out, but the steady drip of blood finally ceased.
He couldn't fight. He had to hide.
Ignoring the main, brightly lit corridor, Leo dragged himself toward a narrow crack in the stone wall, a ventilation shaft or perhaps a natural fault line that was a natural flaw in the dungeon.
