WHEN: May WHERE: One might say the farm is a mere... speck in the distance @hazelbeaufort
Too many days on an empty stomach leaves one appreciating the ease of a nearby food source. So Clementine keeps the farm in her view and hopes it doesn’t fade like a mirage when she turns around. It’s so damn loud though she can’t make out her own thoughts, or tell the sound of rummaging from the sound of a goat bleating. When something clanks to the ground on her left, she ignores it. She continues trying to patch an old sweater resting over her legs.
A crash, and a pause greet her half a second later. Far too close to be anything farm related. Her shelter isn’t much; it’s a lean-to she spent a couple of hours building until she can plan her next step. But like most shelters in this style, it’s wide open on one side with its covering pinned to the sides. She can see a shadow across the ground in front of her.
Tense, silent, Clementine puts her things aside and straightens. She waits for the shadow to move. It does, and she knocks their legs out from underneath them, slamming them to the ground. Her arm presses into their throat, expression bland. Bored. “Stop poking your nose around here, I’m tired of--”
Her words splutter to a halt as a familiar face peers up at her. One she hasn’t seen in some weeks. “Oh, fuck! Hazel? What are you doing here? I could have had a weapon! Like a, uh, one of those spear things I’ve seen people carry...” she trails off. Huh, she’s never seen Hazel’s face this closely before, but... Her eyes widen. “Fuck,” she repeats and scrambles off her. She rests on her haunches instead, hands up in the air. “I’m uh...” Sorry doesn’t seem to cut it. Clementine winces. “Uh, sorry?”
