>>5391944>>5391962>>5391965>>5391966>>5392014>>5392046>>5392193>>5392228>Stand your ground and try to scare her off.You recall one of the key lessons from your textbook–that beasts more often than not flash their claws and gnash their teeth to scare rather than to fight. Of course, DR. GANT had his guts torn out by a bear that <span class="mu-i">did</span> want to fight, but probability is on your side.
You clutch your spear close and stand before your master as the mossperson lunges, a mammoth of muscle, matted hair, and extended claws that leaps from the bushes all at once.. only to stop, hands moments away from your throat. Her hands are like hams, and she could very well palm your head.. Instead, she slowly pulls away from you, eyes still wary.
“Good. Let’s get out of here. Come on.” Sigrid hisses as she bumps your backside with her stock. She begins to stumble back through the overgrowth. You follow close behind, eyes still on the feral woman as you retreat from the clearing.
[...]
“Feral humans like that are all too common in the PRIMORDIAL SEA. Backwater peasants living in frontier towns, too poor to feed a seventh mouth, dropping their brats off in woodlands for wolves to raise.. that’s what they call mosspeople.” The witches grimaces as she cuts through a scrub of itchy greenery. “Perhaps I should’ve done that to you.”
“I doubt wolves have much use for my cooking, my lady.” You shoot a glance back behind you. You still catch occasional glimpses of the mossperson close behind–an arm ducking behind a tree, or head peeking out from bushes. It seems she’s taken to following you.
>Let the mossperson be. She can do as she likes.>Try to scare her off. You’ve got bigger fish to catch.>Attempt to talk to her.>Write-In. 