You’ve just arrived in a swampy, dim town. As you look around, your gaze is met with shacks and cabins. It smells of rotted wood and wet moss. You duck and step into a tattered tent, illuminated by a series of candles suspended in the air. At the back of the tent, an old hag raises her head, “What brings you to this dingy town? she begins, then pauses to study your face—”Ah, it’s you. I’ve been expecting you. Sit,” she gestures at a cushion, “Tell me your story.”
((How do you respond?))
Example: I comply and sit down on the cushion, eying the hag curiously. "How did you know to expect me? I haven't told a soul where I was headed." I sigh, remembering my journey. "No matter. I seek a new place to settle down as my forest has burnt down, forcing me abandon my homeland." The loss and longing, with a twinge of regret never quite goes away at the thought of my old home. I look the hag in the eyes, waiting for a response to my very brief story. I have no doubt she knows that is not the whole story, but I am unwilling to share more details about a sensitive matter with a stranger.
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