For a second, she can feel Clarisse angling her body towards hers, and when she pulls away it's almost violent, but not in a way that's directed towards Ellie. No, that seems- inward, and that more than anything makes Ellie's skin crawl a little.

She knows that place, too. Even if it's not the same.

Ellie makes a low sound in answer, not quite trusting her voice as she looks down at the man Clarisse executed, the slack expression there. Death doesn't really rattle her the way it used to. It occurs to her that maybe she's in the place Clarisse thinks she ought to be.

Fuck.

Ellie steps over the corpse on the ground, to the half a foot away in the tall grass, and leans down to dip out the man's gun. His slack hand is still outstretched towards it. Had Clarisse not shot him, he would have used it on her.

Ellie uses a little more force than necessary when she puts her boot into the corpse's side, rolls him over to dig spare bullets out of his pockets. They search the dead quickly, loading up, and Ellie starts leading the way back.

She doesn't speak until they're in sight of camp. When she does, it's quiet.

"He was going for his gun."