Berek blinked, eyes widened in bewilderment at the muddied and broken form next to the alleyway. "God," he breathed, making sure he tied his foodstuffs to his belt as he made his way over to the woman. At least, he believed it was a woman. He knelt down and tried to wake her, seeing tear streaks down her heart-shaped face. He felt like going back into the tavern and beating the men he'd seen earlier, but now wasn't the time. 

"Come on," he whispered, slipping his arms under her form. He'd wash his shirt later, the mud not the issue at the moment. While he drew this woman a bath, he'd wash the clothes. But for now it looked like he had nearly a mile to walk and an extra one hundred and twenty pounds to carry. Though it was far easier for him than most men, having been at the forge for over half of his life. He wanted to wake her and ask her what had happened to her, but he'd wait a bit on that account. Maybe she'd awake on the way there?

Feeling her legs and body as he carried her, he could tell she was cut up and underfed. Guess he'd lose a few days worth of food to help her out, but he wasn't going to just leave her there. A dog barked and bounded around him as he left the town proper, and a man gave him a curious look at what he held in his hands. But Berek paid them no mind, except a smile to the dog. He had a full night ahead of him.