Matrim rushed forward and knelt by the young man, acting as quickly as he could. He grabbed a piece of the man's shirt and cut it with the blade of his axe. As he tied it about the shoulder as tightly as he could to halt the flow of blood, Matrim called out, "Someone, get a healer, please! This boy's life is in danger!" He avoided pulling the bolt out; that would simply allow more blood to spill onto the ground. The bard pressed down on the stricken body part, trying to restrict the flow long enough to allow the bleeding to slow. "Come on, kid, it's just a stick, you'll be fine." Matrim wasn't sure if he was even conscious any more, but he continued in his efforts to comfort the lad. He looked up, just now remembering the girl. "Please, go get someone with knowledge of healing magic for him." Damnit, he thought. Why must the church do these things? He recognized the design of the bolt embedded in the man laying before him. Haven't they caused enough death? Tears started to well up in his eyes as the memory of his family returned in full force.