Blake swayed unsteadily on his feet, grateful for Elena's support as she gripped his arm firmly. He could see the concern etched into her features, her eyes wide with fear and confusion.
"I... I was exploring the art cave," Blake began, his voice hoarse with pain as he struggled to find his words. "I slipped and hit my head on a rock. It's nothing serious, just a scratch."
Elena's brow furrowed in disbelief, her lips parting as though she were about to protest. But then, as if sensing his urgency, she nodded, her expression softening with understanding.
"Let's get you inside and take a look at that wound," she said gently, guiding Blake towards the porch. "We'll get you cleaned up and make sure you're okay."
Elena's voice cut through the night air with a sharp edge, commanding and authoritative as she called out to her aide, Drake, with a growl of urgency.
"Drake, quickly, come help me!" she exclaimed, her tone laced with a palpable sense of panic.
