As much as he needed Hila's speed to get out of the way when Valdis shifted, he really would rather not have been thrown that hard. Nothing was bleeding or broken, but his back and elbow stung where he scraped into a boulder.

Possibly he should have been more concerned with the screaming - he noticed it more for it's absence, when the nails-on-chalkboard, battery-to-the-brain rending cry was replaced by growling.

He didn't waste more than a second or two on those thoughts, springing to his feet at the urging of instincts that, thankfully, still existed even if his other abilities had gone. A century of constant, brutal training defined his motion now, weaving between limbs and claws. With sure hands, the vampire looped the fabric, slipped it up one of Valdis' legs and tightened the knot closed as he spoke the command word that activated the effect.

It would work, or it wouldn't. He darted back as quickly as he could in case his improvised magic failed.