Rolan and the female rookie exchanged weary stares. Her eyes seemed more relaxed than they were before, while Rolan's grew more stressed.
Gently, he picked her up from the waist and carried her considerately in his arms. Her arms were warm and soft; that much he could tell from the torn bits of her uniform. Rolan had many questions he wanted to ask but held them to himself for the time being.
In addition to her predicament, the unrelenting cold trespassed through the torn bits of her uniform. 'If I don't act fast, she'll either die from her wounds or the cold. Her life or death is just a matter of time.'
Rolan looked around for anything that could help; perhaps among the corpses of their deceased comrades, he could find a first aid kit or healing potion of sorts. First, he set her back down.
Rolan tore off the top of his uniform, ripping it finely until it became a poorly made blanket. Unsightly as it may have looked, the uniform's material would still protect her from the cold.
