Certainty of a horrible death, followed by euphoria at avoiding it, on the heels of which trailed a scream and knowledge that turned Abby’s skin clammy and pale. She wasn’t a stranger to the gut-wrenching emotional roller coaster, but she wasn’t sure it was ever something a person could get used to. Her sharp eyes darted to the old man, noting his carefully blank expression. Well, some people were probably just born used to it.<br/><br/>He made eye contact and she jerked her gaze to the fire, recoiling guiltily. Jacob didn’t seem to care as he struggled to his feet, stifling a grimace as he was forced to put weight on his torqued limb. “This might be our chance.”<br/><br/>“N-no way,” she stuttered in an explosive whisper, “They’re still close!”<br/><br/>The retired lawman limped toward the door, his boots sounding excessively loud on the floorboards. “All of them around us would have been drawn to the hunt, and they’ll all be distracted with…” his voice trailed off (unexpected), but he picked up fast enough in his usual gruff, terse tone, “but it won’t last long, and no doubt some will come back this way.” He shoved his grizzled face to a large crack in the door, peering to the area just outside their ramshackle shelter.<br/><br/>“That s-scream wasn’t far away,” Abby pressed, hating the slight stutter and high notes in her voice, “they’re still close, there’s no way we can just sneak past them.”<br/><br/>“This is the only time we’ll have this information on their whereabouts, so unless you’d prefer to stay here and starve, hoping some other moron skips through to trigger the herd again I don’t - ”<br/><br/>“<span style="font-style: italic">You</span>can’t just sneak past them,” she interrupted, eyes flicking down to his swollen knee. Usually Curtis had the hardest time with any stealth, mostly due to his sheer bulk rather than heavy-footedness, but at least neither of his legs would be dragging along behind him like a chalkboard-and-nails alarm system.<br/><br/>Jacob paused, but only for a second. “If you’re right, then it’s a good thing you’ve got the gun.” Before she could come up with a retort, he slowly swung the decrepit barn door open, careful to avoid any of the characteristic this-is-an-old-wooden-building creaking. Abby’s senses, having barely begun to creep downward from the certain death rush of only seconds ago, immediately skyrocketed back up and she strained her ears for any wails.<br/><br/>It was quiet. Not even any shuffling, or sounds of a horrific feast. Just the eternal soft patter of the drizzling rain.<br/><br/>She reached down and pulled her pack over her shoulders, treating every movement as though she were balancing a kaleidoscope of butterflies along each limb. Any sound could reveal that they were not as alone as the old man predicted.<br/><br/>Even the weight of the tiny pistol wasn’t doing much to reassure her.