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"My fingers," he cried, "my fingers hurt!" One of the humans by the wall, a girl, knelt by him, holding a cloth, trying to stanch the bleeding. - (Priest-Kings of Gor, Chapter 29, Sentence #24)

I took a long run and with a great bound cleared the ditch by perhaps two feet and was soon speeding on my way to Misk's workshop. I passed a group of huddled humans, crouched behind the remains of a wall which had been sheared away about two feet from the floor for a length of a hundred feet. I saw one man who lacked an arm, lying on the floor, groaning, the limb having been lost to the unseen beam of the ships above. "My fingers," he cried, "my fingers hurt!" One of the humans by the wall, a girl, knelt by him, holding a cloth, trying to stanch the bleeding. It was Vika! I rushed to her side. "Quick, Cabot!" she cried, "I must make a tourniquet!" I seized the limb of the man and pressing the flesh together managed to retard the bleeding. Vika took the cloth from his wound and, ripping it and using a small steel bar from the sheared wall, quickly fashioned a tourniquet, wrapping it securely about the remains of the man's arm. - (Priest-Kings of Gor)