Neville had been almost asleep, the cold in the air soothing him like a lullaby even as it turned him numb. Only the need to keep Dennis off the icy ground and his hands, bloody, over the knife hilt were all that kept him from letting go entirely. He looked up with a wave of relief as someone finally came into the clearing. "No, he's..." he said, suddenly unsure. He hadn't checked for a pulse in a while. "Help him, please," he begged. He recognised the newcomer only vaguely, but any help was welcome. "He needs... hospital wing... there's a dagger..." He shifted the cloak to show the wound.