"Damn!" Daelin swore. He dumped the crossbow to the side on the interior of the caravan and sprinted out. Drawing his ax he planted it deep in to the back of the neck of the maw hound that had been dragging their guest away for good measure. Satisfied with the gurgle of blood it released as he pulled it back out, he flicked the blood off quickly as he returned it to its sheathe on his back and peered around him for any immediate threats. The maw hounds were occupied with the others and quickly losing but that didn't mean there weren't more alerted by their cries in the distance. These types of beasts often traveled in packs. If they got away soon the corpses from these ones would feed the later beasts and keep them off the caravan, most likely. With a huff he knelt down and grabbed Neale by his good arm and corresponding leg in a fireman's carry. The man was of course heavy, dripping with blood and pure dead weight but Daelin was no slouch in strength. He was used to carrying lumber and this felt significantly easier. Daelin lifted the man into a more comfortable position before he mustered everything he had to sprint back into the caravan, wary of the dogs even as he moved back in.