Clara was running west as fast as her legs could carry her when she recognized Dr. Norton. She briefly considered leaving him behind and letting him figure this out on his own so she could try to find Alex sooner. That thought ended up being shot down by her conscious (which...ironic that it kicked in now instead of during the Cornucopia to tell her not to stab someone, she didn't take the time to really notice who, in the stomach with the dagger she had grabbed). "Dr. Norton?"

It's obvious that Clara's seen much better days. Her hair's a mess and some of it has been pulled out of her formerly sleek ponytail, her left forearm has a gash in it that's started to bleed into her cut open sleeve, and her right hand was tightly grasping a bloody dagger. On the bright side (at least to her), she grabbed a weapon and a backpack that, hopefully, had some food or water or anything else of use in it.

"How are you holding up?"