"Knight Murr, they shall sing legends of you!" cried Lysander as he sprayed down more fire on the hostiles below, his words echoing in the Force. The sight of a machine gun nest and snipers had done much to affect his feelings of technical pacifism. Apparentlyl, Boolon Murr did not concur. Of course, if Lysander had his ability he would be doing the same.
A sniper shot rang out. Splinters sprayed into Lysander's face and he felt a searing pain like hot iron run through his right side. He fell onto his back, wheezing in pain. He felt a slick wetness along his side. Blood. Lysander had been in enough battles to know the feeling of blood running from his body. This was not his first wound.
Concentrating, Lysander reached out into the Force and focused on his wound. He could feel the damage, torn muscles and seared flesh. All he needed to do was stop the bleeding. Repairing the wound in its entirity could wait for a more appropriate time. Right now, Lysander needed to get back into the action. The Light flowed through him, surging with the brilliant energy of life. Lysander gasped and his eyes went wide as his wound began to knit back together. A flap of flesh flowed across his wound, sealing it shut.
Lysander exhaled. It was done. He got to his feet, the new tissue on his side stretched painfully, but it no longer bled. The Jedi padawan swayed on his feet, exhaustion setting in. Perhaps he could have waited for Boolon, but in a battle all was chaos. Lysander needed to return to the fight, even at the expenditure of his own energy. Even at the expenditure of his life.