"Just a bit of emergency treatment," said Faust. He muttered something under his breath. The man's bleeding began to taper off; the wound began to close. Apparently, the damage to his throat healed enough for him to start making sounds that were somewhere between a gurgle and a scream. After a moment or two, the fae's eyes simply rolled back in his head and his body was still.

But he was breathing, and should anyone bother to wipe away the clotted blood, they might even find new flesh grown underneath it -- pink and shiny. Of course, whether or not the wound would scar was another thing entirely. The man had tried to hunt him down like a dog, after all.

Faust stood, beaming. "There we are, good as new. Ready to maraud across the countryside, hunting down whatever the hell it is. Poor fellow."