There isn't much weight to Roland, considering his height - but there is height there, and muscle too, wiry but dense. Roland is not heavy, relatively, but neither is he light. But desperation and will can help a man do a great many things which he'd otherwise never be able, and Alain has both.

So, luckily, does Roland. He grasps the rope tightly, trying to take most of his weight from his hand rather than his forearm, and the only other thing he can do is kick at the trunk of the tree to help Alain pull him up.

Once he gets there he perches carefully, because there isn't much room and Alain's leg needs a lot of it. "Only have knives, don't we?" he asks, trying to shake the rope off of him and one-handedly pull it off of the branch it'd been hanging over. As he does, he takes stock of what's below. The fire, the trees, and the wolf - for that's what it must be, although he's never seen one this size. Useless as it is to think, it does pass through Roland's mind that a bow and arrow would be particularly useful here. But there is no way Roland would be able to use one, and with Alain's leg as it is standing still long enough to aim would be impossible.

"Up," Roland decides, watching out the corner of his eye as the wolf paces up to the tree. He holds the rope out toward Alain. "Same way we just climbed. That branch looks strong enough."