Andrew braces against the nearest branch of the shrub and hauls himself to an upright position with Secret's help. He totters there for a few seconds, gritting his teeth at the fresh wave of pain from his side and leg. Looking up, he sees Daine crouching in front of him and puts two and two together. "My chariot awaits," he mutters to himself under his breath. Out loud, he says, "I appreciate it, Daine, but my grip isn't as good as that. You'd probably have better luck holding me in your feet, if you can manage it without poking any holes."

Irony.