After scrounging through the dirt and leaves to find the sturdiest sticks he could manage, Noah reached for the hem of his shirt.
With a sharp tug and the use of his teeth, he managed to tear a long, thick strip of fabric from the side of his garment.
He gritted his teeth, sweat beaded on his forehead, as he carefully positioned the sticks around his swollen left foot to act as a brace.
He began to wind the cloth around the wood, pulling it as tight as he could bear to ensure the bone wouldn't shift further.
The sensation of the binding pressing against his injured flesh was excruciating, sending jolts of agony straight to his brain, but he simply had to deal with the pain.
There was no other choice. Once the makeshift splint was secure, Noah took a deep breath and forced himself to stand.
He wobbled for a moment, his vision swimming as his ribs throbbed in protest of the movement.
