Extend the Story - Add a Room

You curl up beneath the tree, not bothering to seek for more shelter. You feel utterly wretched and pathetic, but it's somehow therapeutic to you to feel sorry for yourself at the moment.

Your ankle is constantly nagging at you, but nevertheless you drift quickly to sleep. Your slumber is dreamless, and although you feel far from safe, you sense no specific danger.

You awake with a jolt some time later. At first you don't notice much amiss; it seems like a fairly normal way to awaken on the off chance you find yourself somewhere in the woods. More distressing, however, is the tall form towering about you.

The man was not a native, at least. That much you can tell on sight. He might be part native, on second thought, you think, but he's certainly got some French blood. You stare at him in shock for a moment, and he grins down at you. It's a threatening gesture, though you don't think he means it as such. He's dressed in a long, French-style shirt, but wears only the loincloth and leggings of a native from the waste down. He's unshaven, and his hair is rather long and grimy.

You're not quite sure what to do. He doesn't seem to think you're a threat to him, or vice versa, but you're always better safe than sorry. You're in no condition to run on your ankle, so you'd better be able to work this out with words.

Plead, cower if you must. Ask for help.