Maybe he's telling you this is his land, or that your pants are really ugly. It could be a threat. You figure the best way to diffuse the unhappy creature of fiction is just move along so you give him a wave and a tight lipped smile while you drop what berries you've picked into your paron pocket. Casually you walk from the clearing and back into the forest. The troll watches but doesn't follow.

Back in the shade of the trees you find even more bushes with those wonderful berries and begin gorging yourself on them once again. After several handfuls you hear the crack of a branch behind you. You turn, slowly so as not to make the troll suspicious, but it's not the troll behind you.

"Those are nightshade berries," says the strange man who has found you inhaling berries as fast you can. Those are words you don't want to hear and you starting spitting out the ones already consumed while pndering if she induce vomiting. He laughs. "It's a less potent strain, you'll be fine." There is not an addendum of it you haven't eaten too many or cooked them first.

You glance between the berries still in your hand and the cloaked man who has joined you. He is tall and muscular with black hair and twinkling brown eyes that you don't fully trust. Words fail you; two days in the forest has robbed the ability to speak from you.

"I'm looking for a troll." the man talks slowly, as though you may be slow or stupid. "He has green skin, blue hair in a mohawk, and tusks about this long." His hands measure out the appropriate amount of space from his mouth. "Have you seen him?"

Nope.

Back that way.

Which one?