The barbarian stole my socks.

I didn’t know before this moment that I would ever utter those words aloud, but it wasn’t I who prompted the words. It also was not I who asked a creature ten times my size to jump out from behind the tree and scare the living poop-snacks out of me. I will admit that I didn’t put up much of a fight once he removed my shoes.

His breath was so bad I needed to pinch my nose with both hands, leaving me defenseless. Once he divested my socks, he implored me to stay where I sat on the dirt path. If I dared to follow the barbarian in an attempt to retake my socks, he would take something even more valuable next time. I obeyed and he made his way off into the forest.

I’m not sure why you are looking at me like this now. How should I know what a barbarian ten times my size wants with small socks?