Pulling the knife from your bag and slipping it into your sleeve, you struggle to find your balance as you rise. Your voice is sore and you are too dazed to come up with something to say anyway. Hardly understanding the situation at hand, your only focus is to not look like an easy target. You decide to pack up your things in case you need to run, constantly keeping an eye on the trees. Once you have everything together, a wave of uneasiness hits you. Squeezing your talisman for reassurance, you turn to the trees to let whoever, or whatever it is know that you know its there.