[ He's not hard to miss, not when Roland is at the edge of stress. Running amok, trying to make sense of what to do, where to go. How to be in two places at once. They wont let up, the demons, even if they've changed up their tactics by sending smaller hordes, one at a time. That's worse, and he knows it. They have unlimited troops to spare, in a place they're already accustomed to; meanwhile, the Voidtreckers were stretching as far and wide as possible.

Speaking of being stretched too thinly. Roland stops his gait, but even when Ken rebuffs him, he doesn't let up. ]

Ken, what's -

[ A hand darts out to his shoulder, lacking his usual grace in favor of urgent concern. Whatever resistance he meets, he adjusts, not wanting to hurt him, but wondering why he's curled up so defensively like this. The answer comes clear enough when even in the darkness, Ken's complexion is paler than pale.

Roland crouches on one knee, the hand on Ken falling back down to his side. ]

Dammit...All right. Let's get you to a tent, okay? Can you walk? Can you point out to me where you're injured?

[ Surely Ken knows he's not fine, that this is the opposite of fine. And they're on a battlefield that demands them to move swiftly, move with purpose. There's no time for Roland to play coy or pretend. ]