Ekler: wounds Türü:
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- Glancing toward Billy Lew Simpson saw that he was perfectly cool and had a revolver in each hand, although his shirt was saturated with blood from the arrow wound in his shoulder.
- Alcides--careless, like all the others, with his rifle--was nearly killed that day. His rifle went off accidentally, and the bullet went right through the brim of his hat, just grazing his forehead. But we were accustomed to this sort of thing--it had happened so often--and I began to wonder when bullets would really wound or kill somebody. Indeed, we had a guardian angel over us.
- The fiendish deviltry of the man who had set it was evident. The whole vile scheme flashed upon Carney; it was set where the trail narrowed before it wound down to the gorge, and the man caught in it could be killed by a club, or left to be devoured by the wolves. A pistol might protect him for a little short time against the wolves, but that even could be easily wheedled out of a man caught by the murderer coming with a pretense of helping him.
- "Aha!" He raised his mug into the air. He exaggerated each word with flamboyant motions. "As I say, there we were, dead in the water. With the rope about me waist, I swim past the ship, I did! And I did swim as I've never before, and in the storm, mind you!," he wound it up with a grand finish, "towed the boat off the high seas to the safety of this very bay!"
- It is curious to note that often when game is being stalked it becomes suspicious, although it cannot smell, hear, or see the stalker; instinct, perhaps--call it what you will. And now this bear turned and began moving slowly toward cover. For some time he was hidden from view, and then, just before he would finally vanish from sight, he paused a moment, offering a quartering shot. The lower half of his body was concealed by the grass, but it was my last chance, and I took it, aiming for the lungs and rather high in order to get a clear shot. I saw as he bit for the wound that the bullet was well placed, and as he turned and lumbered across our front, I fired two more deliberate shots, one going through the fore leg and one breaking a hind leg.
- The night encroached around them, covering the team as it wound its way through the field. 12 pairs of regulation army boots trundled along the dew-soaked grass.
- "Demons are blessed with the ability to heal, but are cursed to take the wounds upon themselves, even if it is just psychological pain they feel. Lycans walk between the Elder/Human world and the world of the animals, yet they pay a price each time they shift. The pain of shifting can cause them to become comatose for a time. That is why most of them do not shift anymore. The pain is unbearable. The Fey have a fractured breed, more diversity, more infighting over their differences. We all have weaknesses, it is a trade off for whatever amazing power we have."
- Come, doctor, cried Reg, as between them they hauled the struggling man to a sofa. Reg smothered his cries, and a few minutes later he was under chloroform. Reg's stern determination acted like a spell on his assistants and swiftly all the accessories for the operation were brought. A small block was placed under each ear; Reg firmly held the die upon the piece of flesh, and with a single blow from a mallet calmly branded the device on each ear. Then he handed his victim over to the doctor to dress the wounds and, giving a deep sigh, sank into a chair, and buried his face in his hands. A wave of relief that his task was accomplished, that his oath was fulfilled, passed over him. Pity for his victim he had none, only satisfaction that an act of stern, pitiless justice had been done. When the doctor had finished his bandaging Reg straightened himself.
- Dismounting, he wound the horse through the rubble, careful of his footing. He could not afford for his horse to go lame. At the edge of the rock door he knelt, scraped his hand across the back of a small, sandy rock that had been formed by wind, water and time to resemble a ladder. He felt the sharp prick of the metal latch, cursed softly, and then tripped it. Taking two paces back, he waited.
- "Well, I believe you neutralized most of it. I took a good look at that rather remarkable piece of jewelry of yours and I believe that any threat to your well-being may be gone. The wounds on your chest suggest that the wards served their purpose to neutralize the greater part of the demon's power and influence quite well."
- Now for the bodies, and Ham caught hold of Quinley and turned the body over. "Wal, I swun!" and he stared down at the left hand. The little finger had been recently shot away and the wound was still roughly bandaged. "So y'ur th' feller that I owe a finger tew. Wal, here it is," and he thrust his hand into his pocket and pulled out the little buckskin-wrapped parcel, containing the little finger that he had shot from the unknown hand the night they were encamped on the shore of Goose Neck Lake, and laid it down on the corpse.
- Several interventions, including hospitalization, surgery, and continual care from a wound specialist had proved unsuccessful.
- Two of the men went below and dragged up poor Jimmy, who was quite stunned, and bleeding freely from a wound on the head.
- "Okay. I'll prove it. The strategy I suggested was nowhere near what we wound up doing. I had forgotten that water meant ‘safety' for my family and danger for you family."
- Then in the red glow of the setting sun the girl laid aside her wooden gloves, rose from the ancient keyboard, wound up the drum, and, her duty done for the evening, came down out of the tower among the transparent evening shadows of the tree-lined village street.
- Micol had moved, apparently. She now had her headquarters at Bury St Edmunds, and no longer at Stowmarket, which is only a village. Bury St Edmunds was a centre of power, one of those places that connects through all the layers of the Realms. We drove though an ancient stone arch and into an expanse of park. The driveway wound up a slight hill. The car drew up outside a massive, chaotic-looking pile of stones.
- How shall I describe what we saw? On the bed lay two men, Lucas and his mother. The latter lay farthest in, and he was covered with a white sheet, the edge of which had been blown back by the drought through the broken window, showing the drawn, white, face, with a look of terror fixed upon it. By his side lay Lucas, with face white and still more drawn. The flowers which had been round his neck we found upon his father's chest , and his throat was bare, showing the two little wounds which we had noticed before, but looking horribly white and mangled. Without a word the Professor bent over the bed, her head almost touching poor Lucas's breast. Then she gave a quick turn of her head, as of one who listens, and leaping to her feet, she cried out to me, 'It is not yet too late! Quick! Quick! Bring the brandy!'
- "By going to sleep, Martin. "Your wound is well-nigh healed, sleep is all you need." And sleep I did; though at that time and for many nights to come my slumber was haunted by a fear that the Indian was back again, and others with him, all stealing upon us to our torment and destruction. But in this night I awoke parched with thirst and the night very hot and with the moon making pale glory all about me. So I got to my feet, albeit with much ado, being yet very feeble when her voice reached me:
- Talon interrupted him. "I do this because I have to, I need to serve. Feel nothing, my Prince, but feel proud that I am ready for this. Time will heal my wounds, but there is no reason for me to be wasting my time on this farm. You can count on me, but I do thank you for your concern."
- "I got ya, trooper!" Billy said before dropping him on the grassy shore. "Let me take a look at that." As the guy howled in pain, Billy bandaged both leg wounds to stop the bleeding. "You're not going to walk for a while, but you will probably fly again."
- Not knowing what else to do, he followed the creek round the foot of the hill, and so onwards for a mile or more. This bank was steep, on account of the down; the other cultivated, the corn being already high. The cuckoo sang (she loves the near neighbourhood of man) and flew over the channel towards a little copse. Almost suddenly the creek wound round under a low chalk cliff, and in a moment Felix found himself confronted by another city. This had no wall; it was merely defended by a ditch and earthwork, without tower or bastion.
- Twelve hands with crumpled-up dollar bills rose to the ceiling as she wound up making more money at her day job than she did at the night job. It must have been her destiny to pay off her boob job months ahead of schedule, and then have enough money left over to pay for the preventative maintenance that came with injected fresh saline into her fun bags.
- The fiery tail opened a fissure on the iceworm’s back, a deep fracture that spread from side to side, zigzagging across the full width of the white ribbon. In front of the wound was the iceworm’s head and several yards of her body; but behind the break lay all the rest of her in coils half a league long. Within seconds, the two parts severed completely. The twisting highway of body shuddered and jerked in great spasms, then lay still and slowly turned into a winding river of water.
- Gently Chester lifted Marquis' heavy weight up in his arms, holding him so that the blood would not flow so rapidly from the gaping wound in his throat. Marquis looked up into the lad's face, and uttered a low, painful bark. His tail wagged.
- The wounds were mostly inflicted by cutlasses and pistol shots; but two of the bodies, apparently those of officers, had the heads almost severed from the trunks, the gashes having been evidently inflicted by a keener weapon than a ship's cutlass. These bodies had the arms lashed tightly behind the back.
- Cindy was in agony. Burned and scabby, her wounds throbbed and itched under the dressings. She screamed for pain pills, and got the doctors to write her nice prescriptions for OxyContin and Darvocet. She took double the recommended dose of each the moment she left the pharmacy, waited twenty minutes for them to kick in, then took four more in her driveway. Then it was time for a nap. But first, she hunted around and took a little cocktail of antidepressants and beta blockers with an amphetamine high-note and a vodka chaser.
- No! I confess, not at all, replied Pencroft; "and the wound which the dugong had in its side, a wound which seemed to have been made with a sharp instrument; that can't be understood either."
- In the main hall, Alastor can see Mikha'el much clearer. At first he thought Mikha'el was simply cut upon the forehead, as blood was running down his face, but after another moment of looking, he can see that his friend has suffered a terrible wound to his left eye.
- At daylight the boats moved off on their return; and soon after the sun's bright orb had sunk into the same vast dead level from which it rose, we reached the entrance. Being anxious that the surgeon should see Mr. Gore's hand, I sent the gig on with him to the ship; next morning, as we crossed the bar, he rejoined us, and I was very happy to find the ablution in brandy had been of great service to his wound.
- He slowly returned his automatic to its holster, thinking in the meantime how he could dress the creature's wound; but no sooner had his hand left his weapon than the ape sprang at him with the utmost fury. It landed on his shoulder, wound its legs about his neck, and with its long arms made a wild grab for the revolver.
- I put my drained member away, zipped up the fly of my jeans, rinsed my hands quickly, and walked out of the bathroom. My vision must have been slightly impaired by the dim lighting and the beer intake, because I bumped into someone as I entered the hallway. I wound up pinning the girl against the wall with her back to me; the hallway was dark and warm from the heat coming off our bodies.
- Edgar uttered an exclamation of alarm. There was a large dark patch on the sergeant's trousers. In dressing after their bathe the bandages had shifted a little, and the bleeding had recommenced. It was evident at once to Edgar that a great deal of blood had been lost, for Sergeant Bowen lay faint and exhausted upon the ground. Unknown to himself the action of the camel had set the wound off bleeding during the night, and although he had said nothing to Edgar about it, he had with difficulty walked up from the river to their hiding-place. Edgar ran down to the river with the two water-bottles; when he returned he found his companion insensible. He unbuttoned his tunic and got at the wound, from which blood was still flowing. He washed it, made a plug of wet linen, and with some difficulty bandaged it tightly. After some time the sergeant opened his eyes.
- While yet the candidate's wounds are streaming with blood, he is required to run with lightning speed for two or three miles and fetch back from a given spot a kind of toy lance planted in the ground. Then, having successfully passed the triple ordeals of fasting, stabbing, and running against time, and without food and water, the candidate, under the eyes of his admiring father, is at length received into the ranks of the bravest warriors, and is allowed to take a wife. At the close of the ceremony, the flow of blood from the candidate's really serious flesh-wounds is stopped by means of spiders' webs, powdered charcoal, and dry clay powder.
- Emily took the root, still in its protective leaf covering, and gently rubbed it over the wound and its environs. The whimpering ceased within seconds, then Emily, remembering her first aid classes, applied pressure to the area where the bleeding was fastest.
- The altered voice of the rector removed a part of the load that oppressed me, and I left the room, though with no little sensation of despondency. In about half an hour the apothecary came down. He had had a conversation with the rector, who I found could not endure the sight of me again, under my present forlorn or rather accusing form. The remembrance however that I had saved his life was predominant. How his casuistry settled the account between his two oaths I never heard; on that subject he was eternally silent. He was probably ashamed of having taken the first, and of having been tricked out of the second. His orders were that I should go home with the apothecary, with whom he had arranged matters, should be new clothed, wait till my wounds were healed, and then, if he possibly could, he would prevail upon himself to see me.
- It had been in a skirmish with one of these venturesome enemy vessels that the Queen Mary had received injuries that necessitated her going into dry dock for a few days, while she was given an overhauling and her wounds healed. True enough, she had sent the foe to the bottom; but with a last dying shot, the Germans had put a shell aboard the _Queen Mary.
- The words began to do their work, though weakly. Slowly she felt the gash begin to close beneath her fingers, but not completely. She spoke the words again, and again. Each speaking brought the wound closer to disappearing, and brought Myranda closer to collapse. The last trickle of the blood escaped the wound as the apprentice wizard finally passed the breaking point, falling forward. Large, icy flakes of snow began to fall with all of the force of a blizzard as the world faded from her view.
- A sense of increasing excitement gripped him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d thought about Olwen and the little ones, so wrapped up had he been in Longsword’s near fatal wound and the necessity to get him back to full strength. And now the quick pace through the forest, the dull, steady clomps of the horses and the jangling of hardware—tack and weapons—all served to revive memories of previous journeys and campaigns, memories which had nothing at all to do with his current familial obligations. It was suddenly as if Olwen, his children and the manor had ceased to exist; he belonged solely to Longsword and could think of nothing he’d rather be doing than avenging his lord’s wounded honor.
- Now whether through pure accident--in other words, the "sheer cussedness" of Fate--or whether it imagines that its master's last word was a command to itself, the white dog at this juncture gets up, and leaving the protecting shadow of its master begins to slink away over the veldt. This and the swaggering insolence of the Kafir is too much for Carhayes. Up goes his piece: there is a flash and a report. The wretched hound sinks in his tracks without even a yelp, and lies feebly kicking his life away, with the blood welling from a great circular wound behind the shoulder. The poor beast has run down his last buck.
- Conclusion patients with diabetic foot ulceration encounter more wound healing problems than non diabetics.
- The blaring music rang out from the north, drawing on new reserves to make itself heard over the din. An answering call sounded sharply from the south. The two majestic chords met in perfect unison, and then the sea split apart like an open wound and there gushed forth endless legions of mermen and fantastic armored sea creatures flowing into, over, and under one another with every lurch of frenzied waves.
- Ah! the magician--that Harmachis who overthrew the giant? I remember now. He is welcome. Tell me, Sir Magician, can thy magic mirror call forth an answer to this dream? Nay, how strange a thing is Sleep, that wrapping the mind in a web of darkness, straightly compels it to its will! Whence, then, come those images of fear rising on the horizon of the soul like some untimely moon upon a midday sky? Who grants them power to stalk so lifelike from Memory's halls, and, pointing to their wounds, thus confront the Present with the Past? Are they, then, messengers? Does the half-death of sleep give them foothold in our brains, and thus upknit the cut thread of human kinship? That was Cµsar's self, I tell thee, who but now stood at my side and murmured through his muffled robe warning words of which the memory is lost to me. Read me this riddle, thou Egyptian Sphinx,[*] and I'll show thee a rosier path to fortune than all thy stars can point. Thou hast brought the omen, solve thou its problem.
- Frank had spent his last evening alone, a throng of distressful thoughts crowding in on him. His father was on some official business in town and his mother had not thought it necessary to break her weekly engagement with her bridge club. Frank wandered over to the hangars but he missed Lem and Chauncey and soon returned home. He was greatly excited over the coming trip, and had other and most serious reasons for wishing to go away. So many unpleasant thoughts crowded upon him that it was not until ten o'clock that he happened to think of his watch, still in Lawton at the pawnshop. He had not redeemed it, and the twenty-five dollars reposed in the bottom of his kit bag, in an envelope that had thread wound around it.
- Max pulled himself up to the door sill at the floor level and took a quick glance around the door into the hall. It was still empty. Crouching, he let go of the climbing cord, reinserted his knife into the wrist appliance, turned the recessed crank that wound the springs, spent a quick moment stretching out his injured arm, which had held up remarkably under the exertion, and eased out into the hall, closing the door behind him.
- "Leigh," said Captain Dyer, taking down his white handkerchief--and in the bright moonlight I could see that his cheek was cut, and the handkerchief all bloody--"Leigh, that was an unmanly blow. You called me a coward; you struck me; and now you try to poison the wound with your words. I never lift hand against the man who has taken that hand in his as my friend, but the day may come when I can prove to you that you are a liar."
- ‘Thanks,’ said Ben. He dropped the microphone and gently applied power to the engine. He stepped off the brakes and steered the plane off the main runway to a side road and a holding bay several hundred metres away. A marked Federal Police vehicle pulled up a short distance away as well as several airport emergency vehicles, an ambulance and two fire engines. Ben turned off the engine. The propeller slowed and stopped. The silence was overwhelming. He opened his door and stepped onto the ground. His knees buckled and he fell heavily. Two ambulance officers were at his side immediately. His back was covered with blood, as was the back of the pilot’s seat. Elizabeth knelt beside him, her hands to each side of his head. She looked at the ambulance officers. ‘He’s lost blood. There’s a deep wound in his back under all that black tape.’
- The trail wound its way among some of the biggest trees I’d ever seen. I doubt that all of us arm in arm could have reached around the bole of a single one of them. They were deciduous, and their leafy canopy blotted out what little sun there was and colored the land in eerie twilight enough so that Leanne could safely remove her headdress. The forest floor to either side of the trail was covered in layer upon layer of dead leaves. Occasionally, a tangled root would snake its way along the surface for a while only to dive back beneath the moldy vegetation and lose itself once again. Flowers blossomed intermittently among the trees, some climbing the massive trunks, while others draped across fallen stumps and over crumbling rock formations. There wasn’t an insect whine or bird cry to be heard.
- New alginate and foam technologies have been developed that provide superior absorbency and the ability to lock away excess wound fluid.
- "The fangs rent deep," he said, "and the small bone is broken, but you will take no harm, save for the scars which must remain." Then, having treated the wounds with ointment, he wrapped the limb with such a delicate touch that it scarcely pained me, saying that by the morrow the swelling would have gone down and he would set the bone. This indeed happened.
- I stared into the vanity mirror over the sink. The crater was still there, midchest, raw, red, and gaping. I turned around. Sure enough, the exit wound was bigger. I decided what I really needed was a shower, so I covered the holes up with antiseptic bandages, not because I was worried about infection, but because I didn't want them filling up with water. I'd only been in the shower a couple of minutes when I heard him.
- This is my reward, said he. "From the years of a stripling I have served the country; I have not put the sabre out of my hand! I have neither cottage, wife, nor children; my head is as lone as a lance-point. The most honorable think of themselves, but I have no rewards save wounds in the flesh; nay, I am accused of selfishness, almost held a traitor."
- The shutters lay partly open, as the valet had left them some hours before, on making the astounding discovery, which the partially admitted light revealed. The corpse lay in the silk-embroidered dressing gown, and other habiliments, which Sir Wynston had worn, while taking his ease in his chamber, on the preceding night. The coverlet was partially dragged over it. The mouth was gaping, and filled with clotted blood; a wide gash was also visible in the neck, under the ear; and there was a thickening pool of blood at the bedside, and quantities of blood, doubtless from other wounds, had saturated the bedclothes under the body. There lay Sir Wynston, stiffened in the attitude in which the struggle of death had left him, with his stern, stony face, and dim, terrible gaze turned up.
- Two trials compared wounds cleansed by showering with tap water with wounds that were not cleansed.
- Mr. Elford and his attendants soon came up; and the remainder of the story of poor Mary was, that, being removed and put to bed, her wounds though deep and dangerous were found not to be mortal; that she recovered in a few weeks, and by the influence of Mr. Elford was retained in my aunt's service; to the great scandal of the place, where it was affirmed that such hussies and their bastards ought to be whipped from parish to parish, and so, as I suppose, whipped out of the world; that in two months time she was delivered of a fine boy, whom, when my uncle left the country, she maintained by her own hard earnings; and that in the extremity of her distress, when she thought herself at the point of death, she obstinately refused to declare who was her intended murderer; and though, by his having been known to be her sweetheart, and his flight from the country where he never more appeared, people were sufficiently convinced who the man was, yet her pertinacious theme was--_she would never be his accuser: if God could pardon him, she could_.
- He stepped between his cousins and laid his hand on the foot of his uncle. It brought a snarl from the old man, a snarl that made Bull straighten and step back, but he came again and put aside the shaking hand of Uncle Bill. His cousins stood at one side, literally quaking. It was the first time that they had actually seen their father defied. They saw the huge hand of Bull settle around the leg of their father, well below the wound and then the grip closed to avoid the danger of opening the wound when the boot was worked off. After this he pulled the tight riding boot slowly from the swollen foot.
- He ignored the question. "Lord William is close to death. The wound didn’t heal and he has fever. You must come with us to Rhuddlan."
- A commotion at the door heralded the healer, who pushed through the crowd and hurried down the steps. He knelt beside the captain and examined Blade's wounds, cutting away his clothes to bandage them.
- The men were only in sight a few minutes, then some projecting rocks hid them from view. The man in charge of the sheep-station was questioned, and he told them it would take the men on the mountain a good two hours to get down to the house, as the trail wound around considerably to avoid several dangerous cliffs.
- Hour after hour Crouch held to his task. The sweat poured from his forehead, the blood still issued from his wounds, but never for a moment did he cease.
- The swart-elf prince’s chest rose and fell wildly as he panted for breath. Blood smeared his blade to the hilt. His slain foes lay piled before him. As the clamour of the slaughter echoed and re-echoed from the stone-vaulted tunnel roof, his weary followers took stock of their wounds and their surroundings. It had been a hard battle, and the position they now commanded had cost them dear. But there was no time for remorse. Prince Helgrim strode forward to address them.
- These streams, flowing down from unknown regions in the north, were often encumbered with large blocks of ice. There was but little game in those dismal forests, and on those sear and bleak prairies. The savages were pitiless, and would often give but a meagre portion to their adopted brethren. Father Hennepin often divested himself of his clothes, bound them upon his head, and swam across these streams. Upon reaching the shore, his limbs would be so chilled and benumbed that he could scarcely stand. The blood would trickle down his body and limbs, from wounds inflicted by the sharp edges of the ice. The trail invariably led to spots where the crossings of the swollen streams were not very wide. Several of the Indians were men of gigantic stature. Father Hennepin was a tall man, but his companions were very short, and neither of them could swim. When they came to a ford where the water was over the heads of the short men these tall Indians would carry them across on their shoulders. When all were compelled to swim they would help the unfortunate men across on pieces of drift wood.
- There was a pause, then Gloria answered. "I'm phoning from some little coffee shop out on Cranberry Road. Don't ask me how I got here. I was inside that mountain, in Sharlain, then I closed my eyes and thought of the sofa in our living room and said the words and wound up here. But don't worry, I think I have it now. I'm going to try again."
- The train wound its way through massive fields of produce… from celery to strawberries. Workers worked diligently over the rows of food, lifting crates and loading trucks, making use of the final minutes of daylight.
- Two smoking revolvers were jerked up, two guns spoke through the clamor as one gun. The men were not ten feet apart as their guns spoke. Norton felt a bullet rip along his outer arm, the sensation that of a whip-lash cutting deep. He saw del Rio stagger back under the impact of a forty-five-caliber bullet which must have merely grazed him, since it did not knock him off his feet. Del Rio, his lips streaming his curses and hatred, fired again. But his wound had been sorer than Norton's, his aim was less steady, and now as he gave back it was to fall heavily and lie still.
- "Well, that’s the curious part, ain’t it?" said the octopus, giving her a queer eye, as if it knew she was hiding a secret. "I heard a wave o’ gossip on the way ‘ere. Seems there’s been some kind o’ miracle back at the castle since we left. There’s a bowl o’ pink medicine goin’ ‘round—a panacea, they say, a pink panacea fixin’ all the soldiers up right as rain. Funny thing is, no matter how many fish drink from it, or how many wounds they pour it over, the dish won’t run dry. How’s that for a bit o’ good, salty cheer?"
- Angel watched the roads and Scotty the mountains, and they got on the Bontoc Road with no trouble. Rick climbed until they could see for miles. It was the only way to follow the tortuous route of the road as it wound between mountains, hugged the side of high peaks, and dipped into forested valleys.
- Kavio held up his wrists, and Father wound a sinew rope around them, pinching the flesh painfully. Kavio swallowed a foul taste in his mouth. There was no plea he could make, no way to save himself. Father tighted the rope into a knot.
- It was later on found that he had only been wounded, and he was brought in, foaming at the mouth. There could be no doubt regarding his condition, for even a tyro might see that he was crazy, perhaps from a wound received in the head in some earlier stage of the great battle.
- He kissed her again before they stepped out on the river trail that wound along the bank. A hundred yards beyond they were hidden by the groves of birch and fir.
- He suffered from four wounds, besides having a spear thrust into his side. Deerfoot has only one hurt in his foot and that does not bleed. He had the weight of the world's guilt crushing his heart. What are Deerfoot's sufferings compared with His? It is my Father's will and therefore the heart of Deerfoot is glad.
- I haven't grumbled, because I knew you lads had about all you could stagger under, he said when we told him that Captain Hanaford was bent on trying to get him aboard the pungy. "I can't stay in this place very much longer, without taking big chances of going under, for the wound needs careful attention; but if I can be with Bob Hanaford everything will come around shipshape, because he knows by experience what a gunshot hurt is like."
- What was through the door, however, was not a group of mercenaries waiting to strike down whoever came through. There were three of them on the ground, bleeding from numerous wounds, but none of them were a threat to anyone, any more. Aiden cautiously moved in to the common room, looking around at the faces of the frightened townsfolk, men and women he had come to know over the time he had spent here, clutching each other in shocked silence.
- Wolves and eagles are the servants of Jagasstai, the Mongol very seriously instructed us. However, this does not prevent the Mongols from hunting them. Once in the camp of Prince Baysei I witnessed such a hunt. The Mongol horsemen on the best of his steeds overtook the wolves on the open plain and killed them with heavy bamboo sticks or tashur. A Russian veterinary surgeon taught the Mongols to poison wolves with strychnine but the Mongols soon abandoned this method because of its danger to the dogs, the faithful friends and allies of the nomad. They do not, however, touch the eagles and hawks but even feed them. When the Mongols are slaughtering animals they often cast bits of meat up into the air for the hawks and eagles to catch in flight, just as we throw a bit of meat to a dog. Eagles and hawks fight and drive away the magpies and crows, which are very dangerous for cattle and horses, because they scratch and peck at the smallest wound or abrasion on the backs of the animals until they make them into uncurable areas which they continue to harass.
- When the dog's owner succeeded in separating the dog from the dead animal, no small task, for the former was made furious by the wounds he had received, Rand saw the prey to be a short, heavy creature with stumpy tail and tassled ears.
- It gently cures man of the wounds inflicted on him by the transience of the world, the ephemeral nature of things and the love of them, and delivers him from the darkness of delusion and fancy.
- Not permanently. It causes a local sore or a cyst, like the tiniest kind of a blister, in the middle of which the larva of the mussel is safely curled up and stays there until fully developed. Then the cyst breaks, the mussel drops out, and the tiny wound heals rapidly. Even a small fish, four inches in length, can carry five hundred of these little creatures on its fins and in its gills without serious injury.
- For example, former U.S. Army Captain Granville Fortescue followed the developments of the Gallipoli Campaign from an embedded perspective within the ranks of the Turkish defenders; and his report was passed through Turkish censors before being printed in London and New York. However, this observer's role was abandoned when the U.S. entered the war, as Fortescue immediately re-enlisted, sustaining wounds at Forest of Argonne in the Meuse-Argonne Offensive, September 1918.
- Soon Ben and his chums were in the first of the touring-cars. Dave released the rope, and the automobile resumed the descent of the hill. Then the towing-line was wound up and thrown into the tonneau of the second car, and that also resumed its journey.
- Rhaki stayed sitting by the fire, his brain racing through possibilities as to where Jerak could be. Was the ancient one surviving physically, or just mentally? Was he hidden somewhere like an animal, licking his wounds and regaining his strength? Could Rhaki perhaps glimpse him in the bowl of seeing?
- They left him there a devil, with a thought in him of Cobby's feast, and of how he might make a clean sweep then of all that impeded and hated him, to be off for civilization. He had not interfered with anybody, he said to himself--had been interfered with in his peaceable routine, first by that Master R. K. Rolls, who was well in hell, and then by that Master Cobby, and now by this black beast whom he had deigned to feel tender to, and this white nigger who so lightly doomed him to death for doing nothing. Or not for doing nothing? The theft of the photograph ... she knew of that ... knew the motive.... "All right," he said, "war it is: the quickest lives. I do the killing, I think: no one wounds me with impunity...."
- During each of the following days a number of messengers flew from Vodokty to Lyubich, and each returned with the answer that the banneret was "alive yet." At last one brought the intelligence, which he had heard from the barber brought from Kyedani, that he was not only alive, but would recover; for the wounds were healing successfully, and strength was coming back to the knight.
- Despite his dogged pursuit of her, it really hadn't occurred to me that Porky was the male member that had won Celestine. Before he leaves, he asks me to give him Celestine's phone number and address and I tell him I'll have to think about it. Then after he leaves I'm hit with a panic that wrings my insides and the anxiety keeps building until I'm wound up tighter than a tourniquet on a bleeding heart.
- The footsteps were close. Jacob spun around. Pain! The beast struck again and several canyons of flesh opened across Jacob’s chest. He howled in pain, clutching his wounds before collapsing to his knees. Not your enemy. I am trapped. Not your enemy. I must be free!
- Old "Spotty" drew back astonished, snorted noisily, and rolled wild eyes upon her mistress. Then, unable to believe that her late foe was really no longer a menace to her precious calf, she fell once more upon the lifeless form and tried to beat it out of all likeness to a bear. The calf, who had been knocked over but not hurt in the bear's charge upon Melindy, had struggled to its feet again; and Mrs. Griffis pushed it forward to attract its mother's attention. This move proved successful; and presently, in the task of licking the little creature all over to make sure it was not hurt, "Spotty" forgot her noble rage. Then, slowly and patiently, by pushing, pulling, and coaxing, the two women got the calf up out of the hollow and along the homeward path, while the mother, heedless of her streaming wounds, crowded against them, mooing softly with satisfaction. She was craving now, for her little one, the safe shelter of the barn-yard.
- While passing through the village on the way to Tad Jones' home, Frank had purchased an automatic mouse. Being wound up, the mouse would run swiftly across the room.
- I might bleed too much, stain my bedclothes, get tetanus, have a poorly healing open wound or any number of nasties.
- Eden had produced a coil of rope; Eden never went anywhere without rope. She and Tildamire had begun to busy themselves with binding the moaning, barely sensible Hands. As Shaa moved aside to let them work, he noticed that the Crawfish’s horse, and Eden’s next to it too for that matter, were not unoccupied. The Crawfish’s steed had two bodies slung across its back, with a third slumped over Eden’s. The three leaders of the Hand had already been wound securely with cable and apparently bonked over the head for good measure. Shaa sidled closer and fixed the lolling, upside-down eye of Gadol V’Nora with an affable expression. "Now," he said to Gadol, "about that alliance."
- "You've done a nice job with this place," Baudry said. The hut - it was more of a bungalow, was actually airtight if you didn't consider the doorway, which opened wide into a sort of long hall. You wound around that to enter the living space, which gave it a sense of enclosure. The whole house itself was nearly completely circular, like a nautilus shell with a fire pit right in the middle. A peaked roof opened up just enough for the smoke to escape. The interior walls were made up of ferns and bamboo, and the roofing was composed of layers and layers of banana leaves.
- Clinical data exists that looked at rates of wound healing in diabetic foot ulcers during a 12-week period.
- Though the savages kept up an incessant yell, and threw their arrows almost at random into the narrow enclosure, they were so concealed by the darkness and the thick cane-brake, that not one was to be seen. The French kept perfect silence. Not a loud word was spoken. Not a musket was fired. It was very important that every bullet should accomplish its mission and lay a warrior dead in his blood. The Indians were to be taught that every flash and peal was the sure precursor of the death or the serious wound of one of their number.
- Natasha's wound healed in that way. She thought her life was ended, but her love for her mother unexpectedly showed her that the essence of life--love--was still active within her. Love awoke and so did life.
- There was both contusion and suffusion of the brain. His breathing was slow, and some spasmodic movements of the muscles agitated his face. I felt his pulse. It was intermittent. The extremities of the body were growing cold already, and I saw death must inevitably ensue. After dressing the unfortunate man's wounds, I readjusted the bandages on his head, and turned to Captain Nemo.
- An audible pop caught Harvey's attention. The abscess on the oil painting had burst, an infected wound into the world, and dozens of imp-like spirits from some other place tumbled from the picture, falling to the floor. One of the spirits, quicker or smarter than its brethren, bounced on the heads of the entangled pile and bounded onto Grace's desk. It stood on its hind legs like a demonic meerkat. Grey, with white shards of bone protruding from its joints, it shook globs of karma from its body and sniffed the air delicately. More spirits fell from the picture and recovered on the floor, scrabbling over each other to climb the desk and follow the scent of depression.
- Music had played an enormous part in shaping both Rose’s early childhood and later adolescence. Judith’s voice wound within her daughter from infancy and Rose grew up singing as if breathing. The songs were different, but they were always changing. One Carly Simon song had been eliminated, and when Gray moved to Evanston, Rose was introduced to Yo La Tengo. When Dane joined the band, he brought along The Fiery Furnaces, Brendan Benson, The Raconteurs, and Jack White. Rose and Gray sang White’s "Another Way To Die", the first time Rose had ever sung a James Bond movie tune.
- As we wound on our endless way, and the sun sank lower and lower behind us, the shadows of the evening began to creep round us. This was emphasized by the fact that the snowy mountain-top still held the sunset, and seemed to glow out with a delicate cool pink. Here and there we passed Cszeks and slovaks, all in picturesque attire, but I noticed that goitre was painfully prevalent. By the roadside were many crosses, and as we swept by, my companions all crossed themselves. Here and there was a peasant woman or man kneeling before a shrine, who did not even turn round as we approached, but seemed in the self-surrender of devotion to have neither eyes nor ears for the outer world. There were many things new to me. For instance, hay-ricks in the trees, and here and there very beautiful masses of weeping birch, their white stems shining like silver through the delicate green of the leaves.
- I was weak from fasting, worn with hard riding, and faint from the wound in my shoulder, which had been the cause at least of my losing some blood. In addition to all this, I was shivering with the cold of my wet garments, and generally I must have looked as little like that Bardelys they called the Magnificent as you might well conceive. How, then, if I were to knock, should I prevail in persuading these people - whoever they might be - of my identity? Infinitely more had I the air of some fugitive rebel, and it was more than probable that I should be kept in durance to be handed over to my friends the dragoons, if later they came to ride that way. I was separated from those who knew me, and as things now stood - unless this were, indeed, Lavedan - it might be days before they found me again.
- At sight of the wound she looked grave, but made no comment. She had no bandages; but with the woodland skill she had developed in the past weeks of life in close touch with nature, she bound the cleansed wound with cooling leaves and fastened them securely in place with lashings of leather thongs from the banca.
- "Yeah, just a scratch!" he chuckled back. "Well I guess I should be moving on," the mau continued, after a final inspection of his wounds, "I have a long way to go."
- Aiden didn't feel like lying there, useless, when he needed to get back on his feet and sort all this out, but he wouldn't accomplish much if his wounds didn't mend. He was silently thankful that Nellise was with them once again, to speed the mending of their injuries, which they seemed to be accruing with disturbing regularity of late. Aiden wasn't a person of tremendous faith, but he was thankful that Nellise was.
- A stinging medication, jolting him back to consciousness, was applied to his countless wounds by the cool, assured hands of Dr. Howard Friedman, the personal physician of M 33 and 1/3 personnel, the man who had invented the phenomenally successful combination suppository and thermometer with a menthol tip.
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