I don't trust mountains [Mini-plot]

The ebony creature that had been trapped by the rock that, together, Pump and him had worked to move, had came out of the crevice he had been stuck in, and then promptly collapsed to the ground. The Viking watched the women rush to the ebony man’s side fussing and fawning over him as Björn made his way down the collection of rocks and boulders, pebbles clattering nosily down as he limped down it, glad when his paws touched solid ground once more. Orders were given to the fawn colored maiden that the Savage largely ignored for they did not pertain to him not to mention despite his horrendously basic ability to use ‘field surgery’ tactics to keep his wounds bound over until he could seek a healer’s attention he offered no further help to the broken ebony male. Caribbean blue eyes, sharp with the pain he was largely working to ignore from the deep gash in his shoulder met the hybrid’s gaze as she spoke to him.

Right. Survivors.

“I will begin searching right away,” Björn accepted, heading in a direction opposite of the little group to begin his search.