Beads of sweat dripped relentlessly down Lanik's face, his breathing hoarse and strenuous, every limb succumbing to a numb ache at every movement up the cliff. If the situation were favorable Lanik would have constructed some sort of contraption to bare the load of Finnigan's dead weight more efficiently, but time and resources were all but limited. It took the best of him to scale to the top, and when he finally reached, he collapsed, suffocating in his fatigue. Finnigan, still unconscious lay limp on the rocky surface. Lanik could feel exhaustion overtaking him, but he had to keep moving, at least to an area that afforded more shelter. Catching his breath, the Captain grabbed Finnigan from under his shoulders, pulling him slowly into the safety of the brush.

He kept his pace for an hour before finding a clear space in a grove that offered some semblance of concealment. When Lanik finally arrived, he was spent. Resting Finnigan against a tree, Lanik turned over, puking, straining his stomach from such physical intensity not long before. The Ranger had scaled a twenty foot cliff and tread through the forest for an hour -- all the while carrying the dead weight of a fully grown man. How he'd lasted so long was beyond him, but the thought must have came upon too quickly for not long after his vision was starting to blur.

Night was slowly rolling over the sentinel mountains, beckoning the shadowy wildlife and critters to cry their telling voices. As the sun set and the stars winked vixen promises at the earth, Lanik could feel the temperature quickly dropping. He toyed with the idea of a fire but that would be wickedly obvious and easily alert any discerning tracker for miles around. What else could he do? As he questioned this he heard a shuffling sound beside him, Finnigan was coming back. Lanik watched him awake all in one swoop, Finnigan's eyes flashed wide open, pain overwhelming his senses, he wailed into the dark night.

"Shut up! Shut up!" Lanik hissed, jumping to his side and covering the injured's mouth.

Finnigan whimpered but could fully understand the intent behind his officers command. The two men eyed each other closely, and after a moment Lanik released his death grip over Finnigan's mouth.

"My legs, my fucking legs," Finnigan gasped in horror, looking down at the mangled mess that was his lower limbs. He winced in pain, grunting, and craning his neck back, anything to offset that pain that jolted through his body.

"God damnit," Lanik looked back into the darkness of the forest, then to his man that lay before him.

He needed help. And he needed it soon.