If she's honest, Cammie has no room to judge—that she's even still in the fray at all is because she ran back in after Saturday helped her, she's made her own share of reckless choices today. But she'll think about that later. Right now she wants to make sure Ange doesn't get herself killed, the people from the tent at least have safety in numbers going for them.

The problem is keeping up physically. She's not unfit, Cammie, not by any means, but she's not super fit and it's been a long couple of days between the rig and here; she's tiring. She has to cut around obstacles the long way, has to be extra careful not to land flat on her face, as she tries to catch up without running into the direct path of the Nightrenders herself.

But it isn't hard to keep track of Ange, what with all the shouting; her rabbit ears are more sensitive than the average hearing person's ears and they can swivel, turn, track sound as it moves. So when she stops hollering? It stands out.

"Ah, fuck—"

Pinpointing where she last heard a shout, Cammie grabs her sword off her back and pushes herself to run a little harder.