When he tried to get more words out of his throat, there was panic in his voice. Gladio was far too hot to his grimy hands and nothing he did seemed to rouse him. Even worse, there was a trail of thick black ichor streaking from the wound that had been treated earlier and there was no way to miss it, even in the dim light of the moon.

Panting, Ignis clambered to his feet, wobbly as a newborn spiracorn. So far, he couldn't hear or see anything approaching but that luck wouldn't hold out. Not for long. One good thing was that in the distance, he spotted the familiar glow from the runes that protected a nearby haven. It wouldn't be the same one that their companions were camped out at, but it would do for the night.

Now, to get them there. Teeth gritted over pained noises, Ignis tried his best to drag Gladio along. He managed, but barely. Gladio was too damned heavy but Ignis was desperate. If they couldn't get to the haven, they'd be dead. Ignis was in no shape to protect them both. Hells, by the look of him, he couldn't even protect himself.