Emma had quickly found that her decision to split from the group was a dire one on her part. An old, worn-down cabin in the woods had become her only refuge. Over the ringing in her ears, she could hear the groaning and shuffling of the zombies outside, signifying that she couldn't leave. She was stuck, injured and fatigued, blood staining her jeans over her upper thigh. But she wasn't alone.

Emma had parted with Regina and Henry while they'd been out scouting, on the grounds that she thought she'd seen someone. Someone living, that she didn't recognize. She'd told the two she'd be right back, but an unexpected attack from a group of undead had falsified that statement. A swift slash across the thigh had left Emma wounded, the struggle rendering her exhausted. She'd hidden out in the old cabin for coverage.

Without supplies, Emma used her jacket to try and slow the bleeding, tying it around her thigh. It wasn't the most effective, but it was something for now. Scrambling to stay on her feet, the Saviour gradually explored the cabin. Her footsteps neared a room that looked like a bedroom - when a figure jumped out from around the door, a blade clutched in their hand. Emma stumbled back, choking on a scream as she scrambled for her pistol and aiming it at you.

"Who the hell are you?! Wh-What— What are you doing out here?!"

She demanded, trying to sound tougher than she felt. She was using the wall to stabilize herself as she glared at you. A flash of recognition flickered through her eyes - it was you that she'd seen out there in the woods.