She can't do much else but gasp and paw at the ground and the blood pours out of her. Bubbling at her lips, soaking down her throat, the quickly sodden scarf that he peels away to show the extent of the wound. Ripped ugly, sinew and flesh dripping from it like horrific garlands. Sasha bracing her head to keep her still as she gasps against the rushing feeling in her ears.

She keeps her good hand on him, grasping tightly to his shoulder, pulling at him to yank herself up to drink in a desperate sucked in breath that has her choking a moment later. Thick and dark against her mouth, can hear Sasha's half-formed question as she swims in and out of her vision. "What is that- "

She doesn't hear the rest of it as she swallows, one mouthful all that she needs. The sip thick and the only sustenance that floods with her, and the last bit of sense she has is to grasp Daryl's hand. Not for comfort, never for comfort, she does not how to take it nor ask.

But in the second that the flesh begins to knit itself back together, her back arches is an animal sound of pain that is smothered against his palm. Head rolling back, wet and splattering blood, life thick and ugly coursing through her body as she feels it flood through her. The red - to gray - to white place between life and death. Pulsing like agony and twice and bright in her eyes that she screws up tightly against it to keep it at bay.