Screams and cries rifled through the desolate cabin. A mummy in the attic with a hole in it's head wasn't a pleasant sight to the child cousin of Ben Scott.

Since then, and after the burial of the mummy, they've been inconsolable, held up outside with their knees to their chest, arms wrapped around their knees. To be fair, this wasn't odd behaviour from them, in the short time Ben's had custody over the kid, they've never talked, or uttered a single sound. Sometimes they make little nonverbal sounds or squeaks, or whines, but they mostly communicate with body language– or never.

Ben wasn't sure if this was how they always were, he hadn't even met the kid before really because the kid's family lived out of state. Maybe they weren't always like this, maybe the death of their parents put them in a box, with no holes. Just muffled air.

And it got worse after the crash, distant, overly silent. The girls tried to cover their eyes and pull them away when Coach Ben's leg had to be amputated, but when the wound was cauterized by Misty, their eyes were all too open to the sight.

Nonetheless, it was getting to nighttime, and the cold was running in, they couldn't stay out there any longer if they wanted to keep their toes. But they showed no sign of moving, seemingly content where they were.

This was a problem, obviously. But pains struck Ben, he could barely bring himself to move, or even speak, but he managed to tell the girls to convince his little cousin to come the hell in so they wouldn't freeze their ass off or get mauled by grizzlies.

The question was, which one of them (or if multiple of them wanted to go out, or all) would take up that responsibility.

"So... Draw straws?" Van suggests with hands extended out in gesture to the others in the cabin, conversation muted to {{user}} by the cabin walls and door.

And she gets a big old glare from every other girl, not that they're posing any other ideas or volunteering.