<span style="color: #FF4000"><br/>Jace Socair was in quite a predicament. It'd be downright amusing if she'd been anyone else, but since it was her, with her damnable foot stuck in some kind of animal trap, it was particularly miserable. She'd tried to pry the rusted, metal jaws open, but she just couldn't achieve the right angle needed to give her enough leverage. She needed help, and from what the young woman could tell, there wasn't a soul to be seen between her and Tarklon.<br/><br/>"Bloody hell!"<br/><br/>Her foray towards the Northern Wastes had started innocently enough. Relatively so, at least. Some rumor, whispered by some drunk in a tavern...blah, blah, blah...and she'd hastened off in search of the latest get rich idea, not in the least bit prepared, and alone, as was her style. It wasn't <span style="font-style: italic"><span style="font-weight: bold">her</span></span> fault, for the Gods' sake! Who would blame her for not wanting to steal for pittance anymore? Who could fault her for wanting to make a small (ish) name for herself in the circles of those who specialized in procurement, like her? She'd been a nobody her entire life; didn't even know where she came from. Even her brothers, whom she'd idolized, hadn't been able to help her feel like she belonged some place, like she mattered. All that Little Fox needed was a Big Score. Okay, so perhaps 'innocent' isn't an apt description as to her intent.<br/><br/>A string of violent curses flew from her lips. If she wasn't such a klutz, this wouldn't have happened. She had no idea how to get herself out of this. Jace pulled one of her throwing knives from her belt, and tried, in vain, to use it to pry open the trap around her foot, and only succeeded in dulling the thing, rendering it useless. Well, only one thing for it: make a ruckus, and hope someone heard her. Lifting a hand, she pressed the tips of her thumb and forefinger together, making a small circle, and placed them in her mouth, under the tip of her tongue. Bearing down on them with her lips, she filled her lungs with air, and forced out a shrill, and rather loud, whistle that was bound to carry. There was a risk; Jace had no idea who would respond, or what their intent may be, but someone close by, was better than no-one, and that meant a chance.<br/></span>