She awoke with a startle, her heart pounding loudly in her ears as she looked around, finding nothing but darkness and the occasional eerie howling of the wind coming from the open window which she was able to make out after some time. She was still indoors, more than likely in the same cabin from the looks of it. And the space was comfortable, maybe that's why she'd been left there for now. Or maybe she had been abandoned... A terrible thought, but she was wounded, and she knew she would slow down the others. The needs of one don't compare to the needs of the team... That was the mentality from the start, one that she not only agreed with, but accepted. The mattress beneath her was somewhat stiff, making her back and as well as her legs sore and achy. Jane tried to move but the dull pain that she was ignoring suddenly intensified, and even though she stopped to catch her breath, she eventually pushed forward, rolling on her side to get to her feet. She bit her bottom lip, making small grunting noises as she struggled with her own body and used the closest wall for support.

Once she could stand, Jane limped to the window. The air was cool, the chirping of the crickets filling the still night. But there was another sound, something very near. It didn't take very long to decipher what she was hearing, and it eventually became clear. Gunfire and explosions. She didn't move, not at first anyway. Instead, Jane weighed her options. She could stay there, and possibly be killed by the Russians whenever they discovered her, or she could move, and maybe by some miracle, find others to help her survive. 

"I suppose that'd be better," she groaned, talking to herself. Jane pulled her jacket tighter around her body, her arms crossed as to provide some sense of security. She realized that all the ruckus was coming from the opposite end of the structure, and she warily made her way to the other side. Jane then watched from another window, now much closer to the action. But once she was able to listen more closely, she was able to make out some of the chatter. It was English, and not the broken type spoken with an accent. Almost instantly, Jane decided she would slowly make her way across the street. That certainly beat remaining a sitting duck.

Once she'd crossed, she could make the silhouette of a person. Jane took a few more quiet steps, and she realized they were aiming their rifle down at her. Her heart caught in her throat. If she walked off, she could very well be shot. 

"I'm not armed," she said in a serious tone, putting up one trembling hand as the other shielded her wound, "I'm just injured."