The moment she sees the houses in the distance, Clara knows she most likely ran in the wrong direction and probably isn't going to get a damn thing. But at least she's alive for the time being, that's what really matters.

A thudding off in the distance catches her attention, though she can't see where it's coming from with how dense the fog is. She momentarily considers stopping and trying to figure out who or what it is until she remembers the clips of the beginning of previous arenas. How people were slaughtered by their competition. She doesn't want that to be her. So she keeps moving, noting the fact that the sound is just getting louder and that there's a person's silhouette appearing in the mist. At least she thinks it's a person, she can't be sure. And it's coming fast. She stops and manages to get out of the way, noticing the briefest flash of silver and is about to run off when she hears him say her name.

Clara feels as if her heart's leapt into her throat as she slowly turns to face him. Alex is miles away from the way he was the last time she saw him, the matte black exchanged for silver and the fact that he sounds so much more like himself than he did as he left the station.

She really doesn't want to know what it says about her subconscious that she's dreaming about being yanked away from home, spending a few days to deal with that and mentally prepare for a death match while grieving over Alex, and then finding him also fighting in said death match.

Even if this is a terrible nightmare that her brain's cooked up as a way to deal with her grief, there's a selfish part of her that's simply enjoying the fact that the version of Alex in front of her is closer to the man she knew and loved than the version of him that's popped up in her other nightmares as of late.

"Hi baby," she finally manages to get out, almost completely at a loss about what to say.