[ She'd always rather a gun, but that opens too many invitations. There are more malfunction possibilities to blow back on the user and run out without another piece on hand to replace it. Her blade might break or twist if the Horizon decrees its fuckery games to do so, but it'd still be a weapon in two pieces, with blades in, no matter how many.

The red lightning is creepy and reminds her of the red smoke in the second forest to take her this week. Forest Kidnappings, who knew they were so fond of trying to eat little girls who tasted nothing of sugar, spices, and everything nice and never went down tame or ever at all. There's no whistling, no cackling this time—yet—but it's not silent out there either; the crack of thunder defeating everything and then snapping it back in makes it easier to tell.

She's not the only thing out here. But she can decide on whether engagement is the better part of valor only after whatever's out there spots her rather than the other way around. It's not running. It's economy. There's like 5% of whatever it is the Horizon has out today isn't down for eating all her inner organs, and she's already lost them twice more than she wanted since this fuckall started raising hell in the waking world and the Horizon.

The sound of an engine, scattered debris only kicked up by tires, surprises her.

The odds don't change, but she's thinking of Ipala always outside the Roadhouse, and she starts making it that way, keeping careful listen on whether the other noise, the other whatever it is decides to stay put or starts following her, too. There's a slightly higher chance that there might be a person with the car, but she won't let that sink hooks into hope until she's got her own eyes on it. She's been made fool enough by the Horizon lately not to leap blind. ]