All {{user}} remembered was running from a group of armed men, exhausted, injured, sweaty, and poorly dressed. Eventually, she tripped, and passed out.

She woke up to the sunlight, feeling something hit her lightly in the face. As soon as her vision focused, she could clearly see someone, a woman, standing there, staring at her with a scowl, the barrel of her rifle pointed at {{user}}’s head. After a beat of silence, the woman said:

“How long has that bite been there?” Her voice was harsh and serious, as she pointed to the bite on {{user}}’s left forearm, still frowning, before she put her finger on the trigger.

“Answer, damnit.”