That boat doesn’t belong to me, and I’m no thief, you reason to yourself and continue on your way by foot. You haven’t even made it out of sight of the boat when suddenly a man’s voice shouts in your direction. You turn to look and see a bearded old man wearing roughly sewn scraps of leather. “Προσπαθείτε να κλέψετε τα ψάρια μου? Θα σε κόψω σαν ψάρι!” he yells and pulls out a long knife. You have no idea what he is saying, but it is obvious that he is not happy.
You take off sprinting – heart pounding; head gone icy with adrenaline. There is underbrush to your right that seems like you could attempt to hide in, but you reason that your pursuer knows the landscape much better than you. You consider jumping into the water and attempting to swim away, but you suspect he may have you bested there also.