Neal doesn't stir much. A little, as Raylan lifts him, as his orientation shifts and his center of balance goes with it. There's a brief, panicked moment once he's off his feet where the helplessness would make him fight--but he's so tired. Something in him keeps him hanging on to consciousness, even though his ears are ringing and, really, being out like a light would be the preferable scenario at the moment.

He can tell they're moving. Not really what direction. The wind seems to come from everywhere. The cold scrapes through him, but it doesn't fill those hollowed-out spaces blood loss left in his strength.

"Peter," he says, only half-sensible. He has to warn Peter about this place.