Carrie groaned. Moving was bad. Moving from a standing to a sitting position was worse. She shut her eyes and pressed the cloth to her head. The handkerchief was getting wet. "Head wounds are supposed to bleed a lot, right?" she asked quietly. She wasn't that worried. He'd be moving faster and looking more grave if she was in really bad shape.
"One of these days, gravity's going to get it," she said, trying to force a shaky laugh into her voice, once Alfred had gotten in front of the wheel. With her free hand, she went for an ice pack, trying not to move the rest of her body in the process. It didn't really work. She gritted her teeth and laid one beside her thigh.