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((Blair Moore continued from Early Morning in the Garden of Good and Evil))

Their campsite was still mostly intact when they returned from the hunting lodge. The night there had been a quiet one, despite Noah and Rene's best efforts to cheer the trio up. Not that they weren't funny; Noah had some great lines and Rene's commentary was enjoyable. But the issue was that the atmosphere was so oppressive and paranoid, and Blair was starting to stress out.

For one, she was getting sick. Like, legitimately sick. Her chest was starting to ache and feel clogged, and her nose was beginning to run a lot. She wasn't sure if she'd get better; without meds, she might be rendered helpless by a crippling case of pneumonia. Even if she did get better, that assumed Blair would survive long enough to recover from whatever ailed her this time. Great. Blair's head hurt, too.

And then there was the anxiety. When they heard the announcements of the previous day, it seemed shootings had been added to the list of causes of death. More beatings and stabbings (Bradley Floyd was an ass, but did he deserve to die? Maybe? Fuck) and a girl got shot. Mitch dying caught her off-guard-he committed suicide too, which doubled the whammy.

Caedyn was still alive though. Typical.

Well that wasn't fair to think. She didn't want people to die. But in a way, it was a good thing for her when they did. Jennifer aside, she'd been relatively okay, and so had her ramshackle company, but other people were in constant danger. She wasn't exactly removed, but she felt safe enough. If fitness meant outlasting by avoidance, good enough for her. If someone with a gun came by they were fucked, though. Wait, no, Rene had a pistol or something. So she could probably depend on them to keep her alive if need be.

But what about Blair alone? She was reliant on Rene's gun and Noah's Sawlaska Whateverthefuck 3000. What if something happened to the others? There was the very real chance she might outlive one or both of them, and if she was unarmed...

Anyway, this whole thing was shite. And to make matters worse (or possibly better) Sandra was nowhere to be found. On one hand, no corpse, but on the other, no sign of the other girl. Maybe Blair had been right about her running off? If so, that was a hell of a time to make a lucky guess.

Blair wiped her nose with her hand, and cleared her throat, having just recovered from another hacking fit. She straightened herself, looking down the beach both ways. Then she gazed out at the sea, with the sun rising into the sky. It was probably around early morning, maybe 10 am? Who knew. She hadn't been left with so much as a watch.

"No sign of her." Blair said loudly, trying to catch the attention of the others. "I think she really did split."
V5: Cut Short

V6: Broken Down

V7: Unprepared
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