Blood indeed was heavy on the air. The worst was the laceration on her forehead, but skin had been ripped in many areas from the fight previous, as well as Vicki's wrist still being bandaged across the bite from having fed Henry earlier in the night. Well, in her night. Night where she was. Who knew how late it was in this strange area.

Still, she was unconscious. Whether her body hadn't realized the change, or the concussion was still settling it wasn't entirely clear, but she didn't move upon the grass. As one grew closer, they could see a fit woman probably in her early thirties. She wore a pair of dark blue jeans though they were ripped ragged in a few areas from the fight. Dark sneakers hid her feet and matched the black tank top and black leather jacket that she wore on her upper half. Though her body lay twisted, it was clear she was quite fit, possibly some sort of trained athlete or military woman.