She cautiously kept to the shadows, only moving at night. She'd encountered a couple of people, but most of them had been locals who were just as scared as she was. The one who hadn't – well, the fight had been long and ugly, but she'd finally won. Bruised and cut, she hadn't even realized, in the first moments after the fight, two things - her attacker was dead, and she had fractured her leg. It was most likely the fibula, as she was still able to put some weight on it. That didn't stop any of the pain, however, although the splint and cane she'd rigged were helping. She'd been forced to put mud on the worst of her cuts, the wounds that wouldn't stop bleeding. She refused to think about the body she'd left in the woods – she wouldn't dwell on that now. And she was hungry – really hungry. How long has it been since I ate? The pain and hunger were taking her focus, but she wasn't giving up. She wasn't even sure why she was still trying; she just kept moving. It's most likely the survival instinct – ow – if I can just find some shelter – and some food, need food…The past week kept replaying in her mind as she headed west, using the stars for navigation. All the workers at the makeshift lab had evacuated several times, and none of them ever unpacked. Even so, the final attack had been a complete surprise. In the middle of the night, they had awoken to gunfire and screaming, and had scattered in every direction. The assault had been so brutal, she hadn't even been able to grab her rucksack, containing emergency food and provisions. Vaulting through the window, she had somehow managed to reach the tree line unobserved. The glow as the camp burned was terrifying – too much light, and she might still be captured. She had forged on in the thick brush, until the light and sound had gone, then dropped where she'd stood, exhausted. Once dawn arrived, she had carefully looked for somewhere better to hide, to wait for darkness. Since then, her days and nights had all been a series of running, hiding and scavenging. I'm glad I found those grubs, and that Fire Weed. At least it was something…but that was two days ago.
Lowering herself gingerly onto a rock, she braced her injured leg on a tree branch, hissing at the fresh wave of pain. As she rested, her mind drifted – to her friends, her work, her partner…I miss them all. I want to see them again. I want to solve crimes, research cases with my coworkers. I want to tell Angela my secrets. Booth…Here her thoughts were jumbled. She had not been able to define her wishes concerning her partner, other than acknowledging the desire to work on more cases with him. Something more, but I don't know what…I wish he was here. Maybe that's it. I wish he was here – I'm getting weaker every day, the hunger and pain are too much. Booth would know what to do. I could normally survive on my own in the wilderness, but not in this condition. Booth could help – Booth would help. But that was impossible. Even if he wanted to come, she knew he could never get here. Stop it, Temperance. Booth isn't going to swoop in and save you – you don't need him to, either. Just keep going. She struggled weakly to her feet, fighting the now-familiar wave of dizziness. Then stopped, silent, her eyes searching the darkness, her body tense. I know I heard something…I need to hide, where can I hide? Every muscle in her body braced as a shadow moved, to her right. Too late…too late…Her hand tightened around her cane – she'd picked a good solid branch, and it would work as a weapon. Unless they're armed. Maybe I can talk to them, maybe they're not hostile…She dug around in her head for the dialect she'd picked up since arriving. "Pamageetyè mnyè, pazhaloosta!" The subject remained motionless, and she tried again. "Pazhaloosta, skaryèyè…" Without warning, the figure rushed her. Bringing the stick up above her head, with a yell she brought it down, hard, as hard as she could. The impact of body hitting body was sickening, and she toppled over backwards, landing roughly on her back, her assailant on top of her. She swung wildly, in a panic, and shoved at him – she could tell it was a man, now – and was shocked when he didn't fight back. She crawled painfully from underneath him, sobbing breaths escaping her as she scrambled, putting distance between them. Finally, she stopped and glanced back, hoping against hope that he wouldn't be standing there. She paused at the sight of the unconscious man sprawled on the ground. Thank God, thank God…The irony that she was thanking an entity in which she professed disbelief never occurred to her. Carefully she struggled to stand, then dropped back to her knees, gasping as the pain hit. Her fingers moved down to clutch her hip – and came up bloody. "Oh, no…" She dragged herself along the ground. If he wakes up, I'm dead. Keep moving, Temperance, keep moving. She got to her feet - slowly this time - pressed her hand against her leg and limped off through the trees.