The words he was muttering made not contextual sense to her. Jacks. Did he mean the childhood game of Muggle children? Or part of the card game? Epsilon was part of the Greek alphabet. Molly wondered if blood loss was making him loopy.
For a moment, she thought the murmur of 'sickle' was borne from the same delirious process, but then he was gesturing to the holes in his body leaking blood. Sickle. Now it was making sense to Molly's horrified brain. Farming tool made weapon in an assault against this man's life.
She needed to act quickly, not just gawk at him. Molly was no healer, but she had excelled in Charms class and was quite competent at healing magic. Growing up, she thought about taking up a post at St. Mungo's when she finished her schooling. Molly whipped her wand out from a hidden pocket in the folds of her dress. Ever since her wand had appeared, she's taken to carrying it around with her everywhere she went, like she did at Hogwarts. It was lucky for this man now that she did.
"Please try to hold still. I don't think you can afford to lose anymore blood." Molly brandished her wand and began the thrice-repeated song-like incantation to heal deep wounds. "Vulnera Sanentur!" She traced over the wounds with her wand, slowing the blood flow to prevent exsanguination. "Vulnera Sanentur!" Another pass to clear any foreign residue so true healing could begin. "VULNERA SANENTUR!" Once more to knit the wounds.