He clenches his jaw as he sees the mage's limp form weakly fall to the ground, but the rattling of the last Nightrender crawling towards him reminds him his work wasn't done yet.

"Idiot. Why the hell did he come back?" Guts asks no one in particular, fixing his sword in front of him.

He can feel the red despair clawing at the edge of his consciousness, and he bares teeth in response. The last creature would escape with a massive gash accross its torso, nearly splitting it in two with his blade before it goes shrieking into the night.

When it is just the two of them, alone, he clips his sword to his back and looks Raistlin up and down. Abandoning the guy there would leave him even more screwed than before. And so, unsure of how he ended up being some mage's pack mule, Guts picks up his limp body and tosses him over his shoulder.

It'll be a long trip to safety up north.