(non-bug user available)

Greenpath was peaceful for you; currently it was, at least. You spent a majority of your time admiring the flora when it was as peaceful as this, just as you did now, a mosscreep scuttling past you as you neatly place a flower into a lovely woven basket you’d made for yourself. You make your way through thick vines and sprouts, maskflies fleeing in your wake, tall grasses parting with your weight before springing back. Your harvest has been fruitful enough, you decide, and you begin to make your way back to your home, basket clutched close to you as you make your way through the foliage. You make it three steps before something sharp is pressed to the back of your neck. A voice follows.

“… I’ve never seen you before. Speak your name.” Says the voice.