Caro reaches her chosen backpack, staying low to the ground as she picks it up. It happens so fast she doesn't know whether she heard it or saw it or felt it somehow with some sixth sense, but she whirls around and slings the backpack up just in time to stop an arrow. She shoulders her the backpack and runs for the treeline, zigzagging and keeping low.

She hasn't checked but she really hopes the arrow stuck. That would be one less arrow for whoever's shooting, and a nice sharp thing for her.