Bones The Salt In The Wounds นิยาย & เรื่องราว

she continued to bawl her eyes out. I didn't feel the need to tell her about them. I'll let someone else do it. Instead of saying anything, I took a handful of salt from the jar and rubbed it on her open wounds. She screamed at the top of her voice while kicking and trashing due to the burn. I took my time rubbing the salt. Every time I applied it, I waited for a few moments, allowing the excruciating pain to seep in. Then I took another handful of it. The soldier who was standing behind her took another step back.

Azrion knew what to do and Nox believed in him. “Lyon,” Azrion called out his youngest brother. “You are a doctor. Please suggest what is the best medicine to treat a burnt vampire’s wounds,” he asked, sitting on a chair placed in front of the chained vampire, smoking his favourite cigarette. “Sodium chloride. Rubbing common salt over the wounds would precipitate out the silver,” Lyon replied, fearing the worst for the fallen vampire. “You heard the doc, men,” Azrion ordered his warriors and instantly got it in his hands.

He resumes his climb, using the small trees to propel himself up the inclination. "Salt is a natural antiseptic and helps sterilize open wounds." My nerd side came forward. “The wound doesn’t heal properly if they are infected--" "Bea, spare me the science lesson!" As he turned, his eyes widened, followed by his sharp pull on my arm. We tumble down, Adrian and I rolling in the snow. A predator purring sound surrounds us, no creature in sight. Adrian brings his index to his lips while his other hand conjures an ice sword. Stepping slowly, he aims behind a larger pine trunk, forcing a shadow into motion as the ice blade cuts through the wood. I take the chance to run for cover behind another t

Steam rose, thick and suffocating, the acrid stench of burnt flesh filling the space. The next step in my favorite ritual was to rub rock salt into the open wounds and cuts. Yay~~ The coarse grains of salt embedded themselves into the raw, exposed flesh, each crystal sinking into the torn tissue like tiny daggers. The moment the salt made contact, Jack's body seized with a violent jerk, his screams echoing off the cold, damp walls of the basement. His back arched off the chair, his hand twitching uselessly against the chair as his body fought against the onslaught of agony.

Luke asked. “When salt is added to an open wound…well…” Doctor Tim’s voice wandered. Rogan seemed to have grasped the point and his eyes widened slightly. “It’s going to hurt like hell. Unlike breaking off her limbs, there is a lot more space for this torture. She is going to pack a ton of wet salt and place it on the open wounds.” “Woah.” Luke awed.

I fell into the sky after that deadly hole and landed safely on the rough ground on my knees. Panting and crouching, I watch the drops of my blood falling onto the ground. My lips wring when my wound prick. This mist isn't just for disturbance in view but it's an acid, and when it touches my wounds it's like rubbing salt into it. Regeneration is slowing down because of the effect. I failed to compose myself right away so I stay put while giving myself enough time to heal.

I say, looking at her and feeling revulsion that something’s alive in my wound. “Bacteria. You don’t have as much as Lane had, but his injury was over a week old, as I said. Raif has done a good job so far of keeping the wound clean, but that would have changed over time. With warrior training, running, pretty much anything and everything you do allows bacteria to get into an open wound,” she says. I frown and sit as I look back at the slide, watching the nasty little blob squirm around. “Is that what I’m supposed to be looking at?”

“I’m already on my way there.” I found some fainting salts in Missus Lowry’s stock and knelt next to her. She was elderly and didn’t heal as fast as she used to. The gash was closing, but slowly. I yanked a clean rag from her workbench and pressed it against the wound while I uncorked the salts with my teeth, and held it under her nose. The old she-wolf woke with a scream and tried to sit upright. I threw the bottle of salts to the side, and gently pushed her back down with my free hand. “Careful,” I said and rested my hand on her shoulder. “You’ve been injured.”

Brady and Marcus joined them, forming a protective circle around the rest of us. I lowered Bree to the ground as gently as I could. She was barely conscious now, her breathing shallow and labored. The wraith wounds were bad, deep gashes across her chest that weren't bleeding as much as they should. Wraith claws didn't just cut flesh, they cut deeper, into whatever made us exist. "Medical supplies," I snapped. "Now." Marcus was already moving, pulling bandages and healing salves from our packs. I worked quickly, pressing cloth against the wounds to slow the bleeding but my hands were shaking. Not from fear. From anger.

There are cold metal scalpels in there, alongside the items he’s asking for. When I have them, I kneel by his side. “Put the ointment on the wound.” “What is it?” I twist off the lid. It smells sharp, like alcohol. When I smear it onto the gash on John's side, he shrieks. Blake grabs his shoulders and pins him down. “It’s to kill the bacteria. Wolves heal fast, but wounds can still get infected. Now, sew it up.” “Sew it up?” “Yes. Imagine you’re sewing a dress.”