Wait and try to sort things out
Still struggling to remember even your own name, you glance over at
the building to your right. It doesn't seem modern. A crude thatch of
hay is primitively doubling as a roof; the building is made almost
entirely of bricks, mud, and straw.
"Did you . . . uh . . . Do you know if anything . . . something .
. . different . . . happened to me?" you slowly ask the girl. She
frowns and quickly makes her way over to you, observing your injured
head.
"Are you all right?" she asks, ignoring your question
entirely.
Dazed, you look yourself over to make sure you're all right.
Everything seems fine, save the fact that your head is now throbbing
even harder from standing up. The girl across from you looks
inquisitively at you, like she would like to say something.
