Abby doesn't know what to do either. Well — she'd love to get out of the fucking tent and maybe go for a hard run, push all thought from her mind, but she can't leave or Clarisse will take a horse out into the oncoming storm. She cracks her knuckles slowly and slumps in place. She feels a bit sweaty, not entirely comfortable. The side of her face aches from clenching her jaw and she's trying to relax it, to stop the oncoming headache it'll give her, but it's impossible right now.

She grunts at what Clarisse says, rubbing the back of her neck. It's equally as impossible to reply to her the way she wants to right now. Seems important to choose her words carefully.

"Yeah." Abby herself doesn't really know if it's not true, though. It'd be easier if it was.

She isn't looking at Clarisse either. "She left her bag here."