[color=salmon][b]Sara Weaver
  Sandy Coves Inn, Salem, Massachusetts - mid to late afternoon[/b][/color]




 


 Stirred by the distinctive pop of more gunshots Sara raised her head from her pillow, a trail of drool hanging from the corner of her mouth. Her first thought was of Celeste, the shots were closer than the last causing Sara to fear for the worst. While she hurried to get dressed, a lingering miasma of exhaustion still over her head she couldn't help but question her motives. 

 Earlier she was driven by bloodlust, eagerly charging off to partake in whatever fight was happening outside of town. But now she wasn't so eager, she felt afraid, not for herself but for the innocent woman at the counter that seemed so intent on taking care of her. Why was Celeste making her feel like this? Enough was enough though, Sara could hear the faint sounds of a brawl through her windows. She couldn't waste anymore time.

 Instinct and years of raiding took control of her body, and she bolted out of her room grabbing her rifle along the way. On her way down the hall, her bare feet pattering on the hardwood flooring Sara cycled the bolt on her rifle chambering a round with a distinctive clunk. Within a few seconds Sara was at the counter rifle at the ready, and an extremely worried expression on her still groggy face. Everything still seemed like a dream to her, and maybe it was that would explain why she was feeling the way she was, but the sight of Celeste startled behind the counter brought it all back. 

Sara froze in place, restraining herself from comforting Celeste. As much as she wanted to, she was too afraid herself. Instead she called out to her from where she stood, rifle in hand, maintaining a firm and alert posture. “Celeste are you okay!?”