Gently, his hand reaches for hers, fisted in his shirt, and just rests on top of her, like another layer of reassurance. He pushes off of her, kneeling instead, his free hand helping her sit up as well. He looks down at his free hand, covered in mud and grass, and sighs softly. At least it isn't blood.

"Don't mention it. Hope the fall didn't hurt. I'm sorry, got you filthy."

She's got mud all over her, her face, her hair, but at last one benefit from the rain is that it's slowly, but surely, clearing it away. He probably looks no better, but he doesn't really care - it might even be an advantage if they need to camouflage their scent.

"You're okay to stand? We should rejoin the others."

He's not leaving her behind, obviously - there's absolutely no way, but they still need to keep going. This storm has to be dealt with, and she might be one of their best ways to sort it. He really hopes he didn't injure her.