My attention was diverted and anger suppressed when I perceived my friend lying the ground a few feet away. I rushed over to inspect the damage.
The light and environment did not lend themselves to a thorough or condonable inspection, but with my combined eyesight and touch I was able to get the gist of things. He was overall the worse for wear, but his ankle was the worst visible injury. It was smothered in a sickening amount of blood. I ran a hand over it and felt the warm blood, eliciting a small moan of pain from Watson.
He opened his eyes, which had been squeezed tightly shut until then, and a look of immense relief passed over his face when he saw me.
I wordlessly helped him up, wrapping his arm around my shoulder to take weight off of the injured leg. The voices and lights were getting far too close.
Watson hobbled along bravely beside me, but I knew he could not keep this up much longer. He inhaled sharply at every other step he took, and leaned heavily on me.
My fears that he would not hold up much longer were confirmed as soon as we were out of danger. If it were not for my protective grip on his shoulders, he'd be flat on his back.
