[Quiet Man Cometh]

Caught off guard by the apparently friendly adress, physical contact, and the hostilities she sensed within the group, Dara reflexively took a step back from the conversation, letting them sort out whatever was between them to sort out.

"I need to get my horse," she said quietly, and slipped away from the core of the conversation the few feet from where Michael John -she wasn't going to bother too much with which- had fallen to where her horse was standing half in a daze.

Without paying direct attention to her, those present might not have realized she had walked off at all, even though she hadn't gone far. She repacked the first aid kit and picked up the horse's reins. She walked him a little closer to where the three men stood standing slightly closer to "John" then either the man who 'introduced' herself and the Nephilim, whatever that was supposed to be. The figure was at once imposing and hideous as it felt familiar in a way Dara was not entirely sure she liked. However, since it had yet to attempt to tear her head off or eat her horse she placed it tentatively above the walking dead and a few people she had met as she wandered so far.

She hadn't a clue what the Nephilim had meant with his words and references to a name. At the moment neither of the newcomers seemed too savory.