Amos whirls to check their backtrail as she stops, stringing another arrow and straining his mental senses. Nothing: either they've come too far for Amos's limited telepathy to work, or the monster has decided they're not worth the chase. Less likely is the idea that they've lot it, or that Amos's wild shot had killed it. He's certainly not counting on it.

But for now... He puts the arrow back into the quiver at his side and kneels down beside the woman. "Hey, hey, what's hurt?" Chest, lungs, with the way she's breathing, and Amos hopes it isn't serious because he is no healer. He's not even a decent field-medic.

If worst comes to worst, Amos supposes he might be able to carry her, but he's not very tall and muscled more for quick athletic moves than burden-bearing or great stamina.