Ellen took up a position where she could see the thieves around their campfire. It was mildly disorienting to see them from this location versus where she had been before, but Ellen was able to take a few moments leaning against a tree to re-orient herself to the situation, and the gun in her hand. Would she actually use it?

She thought that she would, if she needed it. After all, she had used a gun before and fired at a person.The fog began to set in and Ellen saw the men seem to argue with each other. One fell to the ground. They disappeared from her view before she heard the gunshots. The shots came quickly, and Ellen expected to hear shouting, and an exchange of gunfire perhaps, but there was nothing. Had they really taken care of [i]everyone[/i]?

A few seconds passed and then it was over--or nearly so. The fog lifted, and Ellen went from straining to see anything to realizing there was a man running at a near full-sprint right at her. She straightened, aiming her gun for the man. 

It was only in that instant she knew how different this was. This wasn’t defending herself and her friend from someone who had already tried to kill her. This wasn’t adrenaline fueled--it was fueled by a more complicated fear. One she would have to process later.

Ellen fired her gun, and if the man did not halt in his steps, she would level the gun again and fire twice more, aiming for his center of mass. 

She continued to look at him for a while after he fell. She probably should have re-grouped with the team and made sure everyone was alright, but she was likely in her own state of shock. She took the life of a person who...might not have meant her any harm. She didn’t know for sure, and now she never would.