[Her tone of voice is such that he knows better than to argue, or to insist that he can manage this on his own. He allows himself to be guided to the remains of a sad little campfire, and even in his current state, watching the campsite bloom into being as a result of her efforts brings a faint smile to his face, regardless of the pain.]

That really is some remarkably useful conjuring— damn!

[He cuts himself off again as another jolt of pain takes him by surprise, and he hisses through his teeth as he lets her aid him in settling onto the cot, though despite his injury, he tries not to let too much of his weight bear on her.]

I believe I can, now that you've helped me this far. Thank you.

[Lest she think him ungrateful for her aid. Far from it. Exhaling to steel himself, he takes hold of one edge of the cot with his uninjured hand and eases back until he's horizontal, making a low grumbling sound as he looks miserably towards the ceiling.]

Not my finest moment. Hardly my worst, either, but it's difficult to say which injury is worse, the arm or my dignity.