Not Until We Are Lost

The first thing that Zera realized, before her eyes even opened, was that it was day. She was not indoors. She did not feel the full brunt of the sun on her flesh - that would have hurt a lot - but she was aware of the smell of it, and the danger of moving even a little. What if she were not under any sort of significant cover and an arm slipped into a ray? She would have shuddered, if she had not been so tense that no muscle was even twitching. She might have been a statue, laying there.

Slowly, Zera opened her eyes. This was mostly because of how bright she knew it was going to be. Her eyes were unused to sunlight these days, and highly sensitive to boot. Strangely, though, the light did not hurt her as much as she had anticipated. It made her recall the days when she'd been alive, walking out of the house into the bright summer.

The vampire noted that she was in some kind of forested area, shielded from the sun by some kind of lean to, and over that, a thick expanse of tree branches. She thought she could probably wander maybe 5 feet away from the structure and be alright. The second thing that she realized was that this did not smell like home. Home smelled like oil and cars, and people, and rot. It smelled of life as it had evolved to be. This was... she didn't know.

Zera pulled herself to the edge of the lean-to and pulled her knees up, hugging her arms around them and resting her chin on top. She couldn't really go anywhere or explore right now, and she didn't feel quite safe enough in this spot to sleep again. So ... she'd wait.