They sit together like that in silence for a while. Rubbing Clarisse's back helps Abby too because all she has to do is concentrate on that movement, keep it going, slow and even. Up and down. She can feel Clarisse's breathing starting to slow under her palm and if she thinks about that, lets it fill up her mind, she can walk herself back from the edge of needing to scream.

She tunes back in inelegantly, hand stalling but remaining, tethered, to Clarisse. Oh, fuck. "Yeah.

"Tomorrow." There's no way she could figure something like that out right now. She eyes Ellie's bag where she left it, sitting in the tent. Opens her mouth to tell Clarisse that she went through it before and took things out of it to keep, that she can have the rest — and closes it again. She doesn't need to know that. And what if she asks Abby to give it back? She has the better claim to it but Abby feels oddly possessive over the Ellie that existed before she came through the rift, even the Ellie that, in the early days of them being here together, stabbed her in the marketplace.

She has so few things to remind her of it. Scars and old notebook pages.

"We'll figure it out tomorrow."