Terezi doesn't notice her attacker's departure. She only notices that there's someone hovering over her, a hand being placed over hers. For a single moment, she's terrified that he's come to finish her off--but then she smells the familiar scent of blackberries. She doesn't know when he showed up or how much he saw, but he's here now.

The hand not clutching her wound is lifted. She grabs onto his arm, the one touching her face. Her eyes are a little too wide and her grip a little too tight. Her breathing is ragged and pained, punctuated by a wheezing noise that indicates the bullet must have punctured a lung.

"Kurloz..." His presence should bring her relief, but the scent of his expression only curls the terror tighter in her chest. She knows her situation is bad, but this confirms it for her. She's dying. No, no, no, no... There's no arena to bring her back this time. There's no Capitol to save her. If she dies here and now, that's it for her time in Panem.

"Help... Please..." she rasps up at him, her hand shaking from her vice grip as she tries to hold on. She feels like a child, begging for him to save her.