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?))
I flinch, "I'm sorry madam, I believe you are mistaken." But after waiting a moment and recieving no response I step over to the cushion. I bend down in a squat, my face clearly displaying the pain I feel in my left knee. I remove my old hat, and nervousl twist it in my hands, "Well madam, I am but a lonely fisherman, had some family, but they've been gone a long time." I pause after saying this, and I seem to disassosiate for a moment, then come back. "Anyhow, I'm just trying to find some good waters full of fish, and maybe somewhere to set up a cabin. Know where any of that is?"
