Roland's legs still work. Maybe the only part of him that does, and it's enough to help Alain in dragging the two of them away from the remains of the fire. He tests his good arm, curious, and finds some resistance there. Looks over and - ah. The fire. Of course. Isn't feeling that yet. Might never feel it, he thinks, and pays attention to how it feels as he shifts, getting the ground under his feet and trying to push himself onto Alain's lap. If other wolves come, they come. Roland isn't thinking of that. He wants to be close to Alain, wants to feel his friend underneath and around him, and that is the only thing right now with which he is concerned.

"Tears." He murmurs it, because the unnatural sharpness the world had gained during his fight with the thing is beginning to fade, and whatever's happening on the side those huge teeth had bit into him is starting to - well, nevermind what it's starting to do. Roland locks those sensations away and does not look down at whatever it is that's causing them, because there is no point. He looks up at Alain's face, instead.

"That's two now who've wept over my deathbed." If ever there was a concept that needs a moment to chew over it's that one, and Roland takes it. "Strange. Better this way 'round, maybe. Already giving me a much better send off than the one I gave to you." The more he speaks the more his murmur slows, his words beginning to wander and his mind beginning to wander with them. "Remember? Must be why you're here, show me how it's done. You ever were the best of all of us at grief."