[ame="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vdAJHuazlQI&feature=related"]YouTube- Apocalyptica - Pray![/ame]
Evy tried her damned hardest to keep up with the rest of the group, her small, narrow feet padding as quietly as they could through the thick, dark mud; its grip trying to pull her in, it seemed, and would let go with a sucking sound, like a hungry animal, she cringed at each footstep, hoping it would not be heard. She suddenly softly cursed, trying to keep her voice down, a over-grown root that was sticking out of the mud dragged along her calf, gashing it. It hurt, gods, it hurt, but she knew that it wasn't deep enough to worry about, or to stop and take care of. But, even though she tried her best to fight it, those few tears stubbornly fell down her cheeks as a small trickle of blood ran down her leg. She tried her best to keep the pressure off that leg, and at the same time, keep up with the rest of the group. Her fear of infection was not nearly as big as the fear of being left behind and facing what was in this forest by herself.
Evy shifted the pack on her back, trying to keep herself from getting too sore, which was a objective she was quickly failing in reaching. Her bangs were plastered to her forehead with sweat, her eyes were bloodshot with stress. She had been quiet since they had said that they were taking care of this forest first. She hadn't said a word to anyone, which worried her now. Were any of them suspecting her for keeping quiet, thinking that she could be somehow infected? If she was asked, she would tell the truth, She was afraid of wolves.... she was afraid of the pack.... she was damned afraid of getting killed by them more than anything else. And she only had supplies, really, to take care of other people, she couldn't turn a tool used to save, into something to use to defend herself. It would feel wrong to try and use a scalpel to try and defend herself. It wasn't enough, anyways. And she wouldn't know how to... She never took defense classes, really, and she didn't even know how to fight. She knew she was the weakest link, but she prided herself on the redeeming factor of being able to help the other people in the group if they needed tending to.
Evy watches the others in the group trudge through the same muck as her, watching the strain on their faces, wondering about the mental and physical impact that this horrid apocalypse had taken on them, how everyone's mental state had weakened in ways no one could have wished on anyone. How the physical impediments such as wounds and broken bones could have killed them off if not in this group. She already knew enough of how these things felt. Some of her fingers in both of her hands had dislocated or broken, and she had twisted her thumb in a way it wasn't supposed to go. As for mental ailments, she was still twisted up over how her husband had tried to leave her.... taking their only child with him. He had said, that she, SHE was to blame for a failing marriage, for not being at home, with him, trying to help keep everything ok, to help reassure their child that everything was fine. But she couldn't have! She was trying to save lives at the hospitals! Trying desperately to save people! She was doing a job she knew that she could do! She had to do it! But.... he left, with their little girl. Where? There was no where to leave to, no where to possibly go, but still, he had tried. And figures that the last time he came to see her, a mutant has brutally destroyed him and Natalie.... She had no doubt that this all combined, had lead to a very unhealthy outlook on life, but there was a little silver lining in the fact that she wasn't dead yet.