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She has heard from the local villagers that a large pack of wolves has been hanging around the area. She has decided to track them down to thin the numbers and encourage the rest to move elsewhere.
She keeps a number of eyes and ears out. One can hardly have too many of those in the wilds.
The kid flinches and folds in on himself, obviously not sure about what to do with that.
The man sighs angrily. "Please, miss. Just move along and let us deal with it how we see fit."
She scoops the kid up, gently but firmly.
"No, I don't think I like your idea of 'dealing with him'."
He lets out a half-terrified sound, but it probably has far more to do with her touching him at all than her personally. He doesn't actually try to escape.
The man seems startled for a moment, then gives a low shout that summons the sound of running feet.
"You should just let us deal with him, miss," he says as another two men, younger than him but older than the boy in her arms emerge from the house brandishing wicked looking farm tools in place of true weapons. "He's wicked."
(The boy curls tighter and may be, a little, clinging to her.)
The kid can have a reassuring squeeze.
Also, some thin but surprisingly strong tendrils emerge from somewhere under her shirt. They defty remove the improvisioned weapons from their wielders.
"I suggest you reconsider the wisdom of your course of action before I get really angry."
The tentacles should have been more of a warning than they take them as - although it gets low, angry murmurs, and another yell that draws more attention from the house - although apparently these two boys were the best of a chance at a threat. But they think they have numbers, and that gives them a false sense of bravery, thinking they have this lone woman outnumbered.
"You really should just put 'im down and walk away," the first man says, clearly trying to be intimidating now. "Really ain't your business."
Oh really. Well two can play the intimidation game. She...stretches, looming over the man.
"And I suggest you quit while you still have all your limbs attached."
(she carefully ensures her grip on the clinging child remains snug)
...Apparently the threat of limb removal does actually get through their surprisingly thick skulls. They back away.
The first man is spluttering, half formed words about evil and wickedness escaping, but nothing massively coherent.
She starts walking away, tentacles lashing threateningly in their directions. The farm implements will be deposited some place where they can have a fun time getting them back later, in a tree if there is any convenient trees available on the premise. Assuming nobody interrupts her first.
Apparently they are suitably cowed. There is indeed a convenient tree. That even better appears like it will be very difficult to climb.
The boy is shaking against her, his form not entirely solid, trying to be something altogether more tentacled.
Well good for them. They get to keep their limbs intact. The farm implements go up the tree.
The kid can be whatever shape he feels like, she will just adjust her grip accordingly and murmur reassuringly.
"M'sorrysorrysorry," he mumbles, clearly struggling to stay human-shaped. "Know m'not supposed to."
It's not entirely clear whether he's processed the fact his rescuer has tentacles herself, or whether he's working on the assumption that different rules apply.
Several small tentacles stroke his cheek.
"Sssh, it's okay. You don't have to follow their rules anymore. It doesn't even work, staying in one shape all the time."
(Another tentacle grabs a stick and uses it to write rude words in the dirt at the edge of the property. In three languages. Not that she actually expects any of those people to be able to read any of them.)
He flinches away from the tentacles slightly (but they don't hurt, they don't hurt, and she's...like him? Except she can't be, because he doesn't think she's evil or wicked.)
"I- I- if- you're sure?"
Abruptly, he is a small ball of tentacles, curled in around himself, eyes barely peering out at her.
He retreats a little, obviously expecting it to hurt and then...let's her. Because it doesn't hurt. And that's...new, and a little wondrous.
He seems to settle against her some, and while most of him stays a ball, one tentacle slides out (perhaps not entirely consciously), to wind loosely around her wrist.
She will stroke him with assorted appendages.
Eventually though they will probably have to move if the don't want to end up in the middle of nowhere in the dark.
The sun is getting lower in the sky, but she probably still has time to make it back to the nearby village if she hurries.
The tentacleball seems sleepy, and is possibly dozing, but will likely respond to any change in motion.
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