Alana follows closely, looking around as they go, nervously rubbing a hand over her own arm. There's something instinctive and sort of primal in looking for anything that looks remotely familiar in your surroundings, and she's experiencing it right now.
But there's nothing, and it's awful.
After a while of walking, before they get anywhere, she finally speaks. "Thank you."
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But there's nothing, and it's awful.
After a while of walking, before they get anywhere, she finally speaks. "Thank you."