It was a good thing that Carson decided to stay and make sure nothing else went wrong, or no more stupid decisions were made, because Malia was planning to make a big one. She knew the direction the hostile ran off to, she could tell by how many times Carson would look in one direction while still out in the woods. She wanted her revenge, she wanted whoever, or whatever, that thing was to pay. But right now, she was angry and irrational. She needed time to actually come to her senses, and she needed someone to keep her on track while she grieved.<br/><br/>She was beginning to become overwhelmed  with the numerous people that surrounded her while she sat, curled on the ground. They kept repeating their apologies and condolences, it was becoming sick to hear and she needed some air. Her hands were covered in Oliver’s blood, and all she could do was stare at them. Stare at what that monster has caused, what<i>she</i>had caused. Her accusatory thoughts were only interrupted by the voice of a familiar strider, crouching in front of her. He, again, offered a condolence, but this one she nodded to with a weak grateful smile, one that hardly counted as anything but the slightest upturn of her lips. She noticed the way that the small crowd of people had quickly shuffled away when he approached, and she found herself relieved for the fresh air.<br/><br/>“It wasn’t your fault,” she shook her head, resting against the wall of the shack. She flickered her eyes up to him, actually getting a good look at him for the first time, before everything went downhill. It occurred to her she didn’t even know his name, but he knew hers. When he vowed to avenge her brother she just sighed, wrapping her arms around her shins. She stayed quiet for a moment before looking up to him. “What’s your name?” She waited for a moment, playing with a rock on the ground. “Thank you for being there, it could’ve been a lot worse.” She admitted, shaking her head at herself. They were always so careful, but today they were so stupid.