Shel sees what Victor/Argor is up to and is reminded of their situation.  No life in the skies, no life in the grass, no life under the rocks, and the grass undergoing some sort of change.  A bit of blood, fresh blood, is a good idea but Shel has something better.

Though she has played beautifully Shel trots away from the Mithra, eager to help test the grass.  He stops at his bag and retrieves a piece of waxy paper with a bit of leftover meat and as he approaches the changeling and the demon/murderer/stowaway he squeezes the package repeatedly to get the fluids moving.

"That's a good idea," he says to Victor/Argor, "Might need more than blood though."

He unfolds the wax paper and pulls the now mashed and sopping meat, stretching it out to make it seem larger.  "Here goes nothing," he says throwing it out a ways into the curious grass.