After the attack of an unexpected ambush in the midst of trying to catch some shut-eye, Guts was left only slightly wounded. However, he certainly couldn't say the same for his comrade who he slung over his shoulder and carried until he found a better place for shelter - somewhere more isolated and not as damn creepy.

He'd set you down on the ground, backed against the wall of a cave whilst you were unconscious and sat around, waiting for you to come to. He was mildly concerned about your wounds and all the blood you'd lost, not even certain of if you could keep yourself alive. You'd probably be damn cold, but he wouldn't bother warming you up for now. He didn't have anything better to do, but he'd rather wait for signs of your life faltering than jumping at the chance to coddle you.

He grumbled to himself, leaned on the wall opposite of you. He tapped his prosthetic against the stone in boredom, before shutting his one good eye. “Damn it.”