Darina could tell that the man didn’t exactly want her around. Either he had distrusted her from the get-go, or he just was sore over the fact that he wasted ammunition to save her hide. She’d probably feel the same.<span style="font-style: italic">Quite the pleasure, he says.</span>She smirked genuinely then, only because of his lie. Still, might as well. “’Scott’. Pleasure’s mine.” She trudged on beside him, her legs shaking from the life-and-death sprint earlier. Now that adrenaline was dying down, all she had left was fatigue. God, what she would give for a bed.<span style="font-style: italic">Moscow. And then we’ll see about shelter.</span><br/><br/>She put on a sheepish expression when he brought up the demons and asked about her business. “Got lost from my own crew,” she answered, her eyes flickering briefly to his makeshift weapon, “I, and the two poor bastards those Imps tore apart back there, were scouting for a new place to set up camp. But if they know about the commotion, they’d know to pack up from our meeting place and head back to our other fallback places. Moscow should take us close to one of them.” All true, anyway.<br/><br/>While talking to him, Darina walked a little more slowly than the others up ahead of them, on the pretext of her exhaustion—which was slowing her down a great deal, anyway—but in reality for want to keep some distance between herself and the de facto leader of the whole group. If Scott distrusted her now, it would probably be best to make herself scarce, at least until she had sized up the rest of their company. “Say, speaking of my crew, would you happen to have come across another—”<br/><br/>The redhead stopped as a scent wafted towards her, making her stomach turn and grumble. Blood.<span style="font-style: italic">No, not now.</span>There was blood shed nearby. Even before the group spotted it, she smelled the carnage. Darina stepped back, pulling one of her knives from its makeshift sheath. “There’s dead up ahead,” she said, trying to keep down the sourness creeping up her throat. It was the moment in a day she feared the most: the Hunger. How could her body want something it couldn’t stand? She hadn’t eaten raw meat in a while, not for the trek they made to the outcropping they had come from earlier, and now the hints of fresh kill in the air were calling to her. She was not look forward to this.<br/><br/>Soon enough, they came upon a slaughter. It looked like the porcelain girl with the soulless eyes knew these people. Shit, if Darina had been any more superstitious she would’ve thought that there was something unnatural about this girl, even more so than her own heightened senses and cravings. Darina looked about, straining her ears and taking in the scents, trying to distinguish any trace of what had done this to them. There were what could be demon-smells laced with the reek of dead human and spilled Redwood sap, but whoever did a number on these men were long gone.<br/><br/>“I’ll help you,” she offered, going over to the bodies. It wasn’t the first time she had seen corpses, but rarely did she find them torn apart like this. With her sense of smell stronger than before, such things became a lot more unbearable. It didn’t help that she still needed to eat. She had to find a way to kill an animal fast, or else she would have to try and stave off the Hunger with chunks of these harvesters.<span style="font-style: italic">Maybe I can get to the turtle, or tortoise, whatever.</span>