"That's a good question," Krem grunts as he's settled down on the ground, looking just a little bit pale, though it's really rather hard to tell through all the muck coating him. "Where does 'there's an arrowhead jammed in my shoulder being held there by my leathers" rate on that chart, do you think?"

The men under his command, or at least the ones that could be spared, accompanied him back to the healers' tents when the worst of the fighting was over and it was time to try and seal the rift that had dropped so many more people onto their figurative doorstep. He was still walking fine for the most part, but he'd been growing unsteady with the blood loss, and he is currently rather woozy, his hands pressing into the ground beneath him to keep him from swaying too badly. He looks up at Adelaide tending someone else, offering her a soft smile when she turns back to him. He hasn't even realized that he's still wearing his helmet, obscuring the majority of his face.