((Dacey 'Dawson' Ashcroft continued from: What a day, what a day, what a day.
Dacey hadn't been able to keep Herman safe all that long. Saving someone's life one moment, and watching them lose it the next. That was just how SotF went she supposed. It wasn't always physical prowess, sometimes it simply boiled down to luck and chance. Totally random.
Looking up from the ground (the jungle not being the easiest place to trek through at night) Dacey stopped dead in her tracks. She wasn't wearing her sunglasses at this point, because that would have been exceptionally stupid, and besides, even though her eyes were rather feminine, who would be able to look closely enough in the dark to make that out? As such, she saw, quite clearly silhouetted against the water below, two figures. They looked to be... dumping bodies?
Either that's very respectful or they're trying to avoid people seeing their handiwork. Which could it be?
If they were killers and they caught sight of Dacey she didn't stand much of a chance. Having superior stature wasn't a huge boon when you had an athletic rather than muscular physique - especially when you took into account that women generally weren't as strong as men. A size advantage would only come into play if they both didn't have good weapons and weren't very good fighters. What good would a butter knife do against a gun?
But what if they weren't killers? What if they were good guys just trying to make it out? Dacey would much rather be with other people - especially if they were well-armed, than trying to make her way around the island solo.
Given the position of the pair - lower than her, although she would stand out against the skyline, if she needed to, she would be able to get well away just by fleeing.
It was worth the risk.
"Hey," Dacey paused, then intentionally gruffed up her voice a little - she couldn't let it slip... not now. "It's Dawson Ashcroft. You ... playing?"