[Sorry, Mom. Sorry, God. --> Ema Ryan]
More fun hiking, more fun heavy lifting, and more fun paranoia at every sound she heard. Yup, the island was turning out to be a whole load of fun for Ema alright. "Fun" in massive
sarcastic quotes, that is. She hadn't had the heart to ask Hayley to help with her bags, as it had been her own fault for forgetting earlier, and so, cursing her selective politeness, she's spent the entire trip along the coastline with aching shoulders, not at all helped by her right hand's refusal to loosen its grip on Ema's new weapon.
On the way, trying to take her mind off of the weight pulling her down, Ema found herself wondering why her grip was so relentless. At first, she'd assumed it was fear, driving her to cling to the chance at self-defence for dear life. But since then, she'd begun to think it might be more. That she was afraid of the sword itself, of what it meant. That if she kept it in a more... casual manner, so to speak, it would make her all the more casual about using it.
"You're thinking about this too much, it's just a weapon you don't want to lose."
she told herself, hushing the pseudo-philosophical internal debate for the time being. Besides, Ema had never liked wannabe philosophers - pretenders to the throne of pretense - or actual ones for that matter, and had no intention of becoming one herself.
Caught in the daydream-like trance of introspection yet again - even after constantly telling herself to stop doing it, and never succeeding - Ema suddenly became aware that, by a combination of the weight she was carrying and the ponderous pace she'd slowed to in her thinking, she was lagging quite far behind Hayley and Kyle. After the luck of meeting up with them, and forcing herself to ignore the events of the previous morning, she had no intention of losing her again. Them
again, even. Two people, Hayley and
Kyle. "Two of them, Captain Desperate." "Shut up, I know."
By the time she caught up, the couple had stopped at a small cliff, if it could really be called that, overlooking the Hut they'd been heading towards. The vertical difference wasn't the problem, though, it was the group of people at the bottom of it, and the one of them that was dead. Unsurprisingly, Ema didn't recognise a single one of them, given her non-existent social life, and how they'd been expecting a bit of a wait before Madelyn and the rest arrived. It seemed evident from Hayley's and Kyle's respective barely-caring reactions that they didn't know the people either. Odd, really, that only three days in it seemed perfectly normal not to care about a corpse, so long as you didn't know the person very well. Scientists did always say that the young adapt faster...
"What do you think...? The others could be in the hut, but I don't think going down there and trying to get in is in our best interests at the moment..."
Unlikely, unless the others had left absurdly early in the morning. And even if they were, she had a point, barging in through a group of very-likely-to-be-killers wasn't a great plan.
"I don't think they are down there. If I remember the map correctly, they have a further distance to walk than we have- so unless they set out at first light, I doubt that that that they would have arrived here before us. Besides, considering the poor state of Alex's health and Maddy's... general lack of strength, really, no offense to her... there would probably be more than one body down there, even with Charlene's help."
Exactly what Ema had been about to say. The distance part, at least. She did't even know who Charlene was, and could only vaguely remember an Alex. The Scottish guy? Possibly. Memories of life in the States already seemed so long ago, somehow, that Ema had trouble recalling much that wasn't everyday stuff, utterly embedded into her mind. Culture shock? Possibly.
"We should avoid confrontation. However... Hayley, can I talk to you? Alone?"
Wait what? It didn't take even a modicum of attentiveness to notice that Kyle was averting his eyes, no, his entire face, from Ema as he said it, as well. Something was up, Ema wanted to know what. But, true to form, she said nothing, waiting for whatever was happening to pan out. Passive in the worst possible way, that's Ema Ryan.